On break

We've been out of school for a week.

It's been wonderful.

I can take my sweet time getting going in the morning.  I can visit with friends.  I can take the kids places to play.  I can shop for, wrap and send Christmas cheer.  And I can help direct the building of the house.

Not surprisingly, it's been more busy since we stopped school than when we were doing school.  'Tis the season for lots to do, and the house project seems to be ramping up with lots of questions to research and decide.

But it's a big relief to have a break from the daily responsibility of schooling.

The electrician started today; the garage and stoop are cemented; the stairs are in.

Most of our Christmas shopping is done.  We have a tree that hasn't made it in from the driveway yet; but I did put up decorations.

I'm feeling thankful for all the good in my life.  Loving family.  Great house(s).  Homeschooling, and school breaks.  Pretty lights.  My beloved to share it all with.  And the Source of all blessing, the beginning and end of it all, the One from whom all the good comes and to whom it all points:  I'm thankful this week to know Jesus and rejoice in His coming.

Hallelujah, the King is here

Given for all men

For today the holy Son of God

Is born in Bethlehem

Third Day, "Born In Bethlehem"

Why we pay professional photographers $400 an hour

When I called regarding Christmas portraits of my children and was quoted the above price, I thought, "That's outrageous! I'll take my own pictures of them."

How hard can it be?

108 shots later, I thought, "We don't pay these people enough."

Fun field trip

Way back before Thanksgiving, I took our first long-distance field trip with all four kids.  

We travelled to a big children's museum, and it turned out to be super cool.

There was a Native American village with traditional instruments, houses, and assorted other objects.


It also had a model which showed houses on land and canoes in the water.

Caleb insisted the boats belonged in the "garages."

Caleb and Lizzy both got a kick out of the toddler area.

My favorite part was a big model river, with boats you could float down it, and canal locks you could open and close, and a waterwheel that powered a light.

(Caleb, of course, wouldn't send his boat downstream; he just clutched it and made sure everyone knew it was "MINE.")

He did play on a simulated boat ride.

There was a whole room of stuff having to do with building and architecture.

Jeddy got to work the crane to put steeples on some buildings.

It was four stories high, not counting the enclosed lookout from the roof.  You could take the light-up stairs from floor to floor, or:

you could climb, slide, crawl, or take the zip line.


The place was huge.  There was much more I didn't get pictures of, which I think is excusable, considering I kept track of four children crawling through different tunnels that led who knew where and didn't permanently lose any of them, despite the crowd.

I fed them treats before the ride home.  They all seemed pretty happy with the day.

Thanksgiving weekend

Caleb and monkey while away the drive to my sister's house.

There was playing on the tire swing

and passing around the newest baby.

Proud daddy and adorable son.

The beautiful family.

The big feast.

Nana admiring her new grandchild calendar.

Baby gets passed around some more.

All nine grandkids.

Baby is passed around some more

...and some more

...and some more

...and some more.

Top Ten Things I'm Looking Forward To About Our New House

10.  I can keep all my math manipulatives in one spot.


Not only the rulers and compass and pattern blocks, but empty gallon jugs and 2-liter bottles and a yardstick.  Then I won't have to empty the rest of the milk into a tupperware container every time we do a lesson on units of volume.

9.  A mudroom.


When we built this house, there were only two people in our family who were walking, both of them adults who value prompt snow boot removal upon entering.


Now, not so much.  Our current floor plan requires walking up the stairs and across the living room before coming to the logical boot-removal location.  Ditto for wet shoes or muddy bare feet.


Hopefully our new floor plan requires effort to avoid prompt boot removal.


8.  The kids' bathrooms are inside their own rooms.


Which means they have less excuse to wander out "for a drink" every time an adult walks by.

7.  Lord willing, a bottom-freezer refrigerator.  


Now, this is one small evidence in how far I've come in contemplating our new house.


Buying a lot was Jason's idea.  Building on said lot was Jason's idea.  Using a new floor plan was Jason's idea.


I don't like change.


But see how far I've come, that I'm not only looking forward to a different house, but voluntarily considering a different style refrigerator than I've ever had!


After extensive research which basically involved quizzing my mother-in-law on her new fridge, I have come to hope that with the freezer on the bottom, not only will the ice cubes stay in their receptacle, but my frozen foods can be filed neatly in categories instead of shoving them into a frosty pile and hoping they don't slide out and clonk me on the head when I next open the freezer.


6.  A deep freezer in the pantry.


The great hope here is that I will use it more efficiently when two doors and a flight of stairs aren't separating me from my freezer.


Every time I have to catch a frosty landslide (see #7), I think, "I should move this stuff to the big freezer."  And then I consider the flight of stairs, and how my children will all burst into questioning tears if I descend it, and probably try to follow me, thus risking their necks.  And then I cram the food back into the fridge freezer.


Likewise, when I make my grocery list I think, "I think I put extra chicken in the freezer once; I should check.  Or..... I could just buy more."


If I get a deep freezer within 15 feet of my refrigerator and I still don't use it, I'll need to seriously confront my laziness problem.


5.  The main bathroom (that Other People use) isn't the one where my kids bathe or brush their teeth.


Oh, the mercy of God, on me and my guests.

4.  I won't have to label all our science experiments with "do not eat" signs for Jason.


It should be a pretty intuitive rule of thumb:  if it's in the school room, don't eat it.


3.  Separate areas for play, school, and civilized society.


The school room will be a recognizable, designated location for activities like coloring and writing.  The playroom will be the place for noise and scattered toys.  The living room will be the place for polite conversation.  Of which we have so much here.

The point is, as much as I love homeschooling, at our house now, there's no telling where the quiet area ends and the noisy toy-scattering begins.


A new floor plan won't change human nature, but maybe it can help compartmentalize it.


2.  No sink in the school room.


When we first talked about floor plans, I thought a sink in the school room would be great for science experiments and cleaning up after art time.


Obviously this was before Caleb.


Here are some things that are pertinent to school that do not mix well with a sink:  science reports, spelling books, sheet music, my phone, my laptop, crayons, library books.


Possibly a straitjacket would be a better addition to the school room than a sink.

1.  No food in the school area.


By extension, no crumbs stuck to papers, no putting books down in sticky spots, no putting everything away only to get it all back out after lunch.


Honorable Mentions go to...


- A master bedroom at the opposite end of the house from the kid bedrooms

- A playroom on the main level (and therefore, hopefully, monster-free)

- A small, flat yard

- A private master balcony

- And of course, the sense of giddy hope that comes with a fresh start

Immanuel

The evenings are getting so dark.


Some people like fall, and even, inexplicably, winter.


Those people are weird.


Yes, there is beauty in the change of seasons, especially in the splendor of foliage.  The beginning of the school year always feels like a fresh start.  Cozy blankets, hot drinks, and pumpkin pie candles are all nice.


But the darkness.  Who doesn't feel melancholy to notice that each day is shorter than the last, that the sun shows itself less and less, that the world is getting ready for a long, lifeless sleep?


Each year tells the same story.  The garden dies, the world gets cold and dark, and life seems to ebb away.  People like me get gloomy.  We're incapable of holding onto summer or keeping the sun shining.


But...  "While we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly" (Romans 5:6).  


The Lord God did not just walk with His people in the verdant garden.  He didn't show up when life was a sunny beach, to join the party.


We celebrate Christmas at the darkest time of year.  This is right and good, because Jesus came to a dark, dark world.  When we were steeped in sin and blindness, when the ground of the garden was cursed and dead, Jesus showed up.  Not shying away from our miseries, He joined us in them, and redeemed us from them.

"The people who were sitting in darkness saw a great Light,

And those who were sitting in the land and shadow of death,

Upon them a Light dawned."

-Matthew 4:16

This, then, is also part of the story--the beginning of the glorious final chapters.  

We have hardly anything to do with it.  We didn't summon a Savior any more than we summon the spring.  Oh yes, we cry out for a Savior--indeed, just as Jill did in C.S. Lewis's The Silver Chair:

"Please, what task, Sir?" said Jill.

"The task for which I called you and him here out of your own world."

This puzzled Jill very much.  "It's mistaking me for someone else," she thought.  She didn't dare to tell the Lion this, though she felt things would get into a dreadful muddle unless she did.

"Speak your thought, Human Child," said the Lion.

"I was wondering--I mean--could there be some mistake?  Because nobody called me and Scrubb, you know.  It was we who asked to come here.  Scrubb said we were to call to--to Somebody--it was a name I wouldn't know--and perhaps the Somebody would let us in.  And we did, and then we found the door open."

"You would not have called to me unless I had been calling to you," said the Lion.

"Then you are Somebody, Sir?" said Jill.

"I am."

May every premature sunset this season, every biting wind, remind us of the Savior who loved us enough to break into our darkness and be with us there.