Livin' in America

Ah, summertime. Lemonade. Sprinklers. Grilling. Vacations. Fireworks.

And nudity.

Oh, America. Sometimes I look at you and think, you are like a hormone crazed junior higher with a big mouth.

But that would be insulting to junior highers.

There is no question that modesty is sorely lacking in our country. Everywhere, and I mean everywhere you look, people (mostly women) are flaunting their bodies. It's not just at pools and beaches. It's in theaters and restaurants and stores and libraries and churches. Shorts are so short these days I wonder how girls keep hot leather seats from leaving burn marks on their rear ends. We flaunt our bodies in the name of exercise, of health, of beauty, of freedom, of self expression.

I can hear all the feminists starting to recoil. "Oh, great, not another woman-shaming post about covering our bodies, furthering our patriarchal society and men's control over our choices."

Yes, this post will have a lot to do with women, because that's what I am. But for the record, and for the love of all that is good and right in the world, dudes, you need to hike up your pants NOW.

As much as the feminists might reject me, I feel the same sense of overwhelming nausea about them.

Some women will tell you that it's their right to dress however they want. They dress for themselves, not for men. If they want to wear a string bikini, it's none of men's business and they can just avert their eyes if they have a problem with it. They dress in a way that makes them feel good and boosts their ego.

But, come on. Let's get down to it. Saying that you wear certain things for you is absolutely true. Saying that it's no one else's problem is a load of crap.

As a woman, it has been my experience that I and the great majority of women want our "right" to wear whatever we want for one good reason: power.

If you can rock a bikini or daisy dukes, you feel empowered around men (and women for that matter). They notice you, and their attention makes you feel like you can control them.

Lest you think I'm a prude, I think the same could be said for virtually any clothing. Intent to control can be behind jeans and a t-shirt just as much as a bikini. Pride is not a respecter of clothing styles. It can lurk in just about anything.

But for the sake of this blog post, I will talk about clothing that exposes us. In our culture, it's not enough just to accentuate the feminine silhouette anymore or wear a pair of heels. Now we have to be virtually naked, or just downright naked really. This is going to make me sound old, but I really cannot believe what some parents allow their teenage girls to wear. Like, really, people? You're okay with your fourteen year old walking around in what is barely more than her underwear?

I had parents who gave a crap. Of course, I tried to get around the rules now and then, but I really didn't want to get into a conversation about modesty with them (how embarrassing, mo-om), so for the most part I kept things tame. There were plenty of times though when my mom said "that's too short" or "that's too low", usually when we were shopping so certain things never even made it into our house. When I was a teenager, there was a fad of wearing strappy tank tops with a "bra" built in. My parents said nuh-uh, no way. I'm glad they did. Because there's no way Homegirl's gonna wear anything like that, and it would be a lot harder to defend my position if she had proof that I was a slutty teenager.

I hear you say, in some cultures, women walk around topless. In some cultures, women are required to be covered from head to toe.

But we aren't those cultures. We are America, a sexually obsessed country. We're not able to see breasts as baby food. And women in those cultures aren't flaunting their bodies like we American women, even in their semi-nude states. They aren't attempting to control men with their sexuality. Sex is king in our country. We want it to be easy to find, easy to access, and easy to leave behind when we're ready for something new. We want it to saturate everything--our movies, books, tv, social media, relationships. Sex in America is all about self. What I want. What I say goes. What makes me feel good. Sex is nothing more than a tool to control others.

So instead of worrying about what sex looks like in other cultures, we Christians need to figure out how to exist purely in our own culture. If our culture touted long jean jumpers as the most sexy thing a woman can wear, you can bet your bikini I'd be like, death to jean jumpers.

But shouldn't it be a man's responsibility to control himself? Oh, yes, absolutely. One of my biggest pet peeves is that all the responsibility of sexual purity tends to get placed on the shoulders of women. That is not how it's supposed to work. Men are responsible for their eyes, for their thoughts, for whatever lust resides in their hearts. No one can make you sin. Sin is always your choice.

So, I'm not even going to talk about dressing modestly for the sake of saving men from temptation. That's a different post.

Dressing modestly isn't something we do for men. It's our reasonable act of worship to God.

When we have a right relationship with God, we don't need others to notice our clothing or bodies.

When we have the mindset of a servant of God, we don't need to try to control men with our femininity.

When our hearts are consumed with loving God, loving self becomes uglier and uglier.

I'm not saying we can never wear cute clothes or enjoy a little fashion. But we really need to look at our motives. Are they pure? Are they self-serving? And also really look at our clothing choices with an objective eye. Does this reveal too much? Does it fit incorrectly? Is this too much skin?

There will always be someone with a higher standard of modesty than you. And there will always be someone with less. So instead of comparing to others, consider your own heart. Consider how you will make Jesus look. Consider how infinitely valuable you are to Christ. Does what you're wearing express your worth? Does it say "notice Jesus"?

Or does it simply cry "notice me."

Romans 12:1--"Therefore, I urge you, brothers AND sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God. This is your true and proper worship."

For your reading: 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, 1 Timothy 2:9-10, Philippians 2:3-11, Proverbs 31, 1 Thessalonians 4:1-12, 1 Corinthians 10:23-33

My Altar

I can still remember placing the first stone.

It was just an ordinary hill, on an ordinary road, in an ordinary life. And then suddenly, it wasn't ordinary anymore.

One rock, it's cold, sharp edges mimicking the condition of my heart, placed on the hill alone. So small, so insignificant, and yet, I could feel the beginning of something bigger than I could imagine hovering in the air around me.

With one stone, I marked the moment where simple met extraordinary, tumult met peace, chaos met order. I wanted to remember what it felt to be drowning and suddenly feel the hand of grace gripping me, pulling me from my own tragedy.

With one stone, I began my altar.

It would become my place of worship. I'd come there to remember you, to think about what we have been through together. Sometimes I could only leave pebbles--small victories and hurdles leapt. Other times, I didn't feel strong enough to lay the boulder that I felt an event deserved. But my altar steadily grew, my one rock turned to dozens, to hundreds, till it was a mountain that could only be looked upon in awe.

When I considered each rock on its own, it was hard to find meaning. They seemed so random and disconnected. Some smooth. Some gray. Some jagged. Some ugly. They were as varied as they were numerous.

But together, each stone wove a pattern, a beautiful design traced by the finger of an artist. Together, they meant something. Together, they were a map of my life, my trials, my heartaches, my sins, my struggles, my failures. And the map led me to you time and time again.

My mountain towers now, and it keeps growing. Where once these were stones that wounded my heart, now the only tears I shed are of joy, of being awestruck with the beauty of my mess.

This altar exists for you. Because of you.

Without you, there would be no meaning in my mountain. There would be no story in the stones. There would be no reason to be filled with wonder.

I visit my altar often, my fingers tracing the stones as my worship pours like an offering to you. I imagine the countless other altars like my own, each one containing hundreds of stones of remembrance, outlining the myriad of ways you changed a life for the better. Our altars are our way of remembering and honoring the only one who could love miserable creatures such as ourselves.

Thank you for my altar. Thank you for giving me stones to build upon. It stands for you. May all who see it wonder at the one who can take ugly stones and make them into something beautiful.

Ten on Ten: Special Edition

Today's Ten on Ten comes to you straight from my wonderful hometown of Oglesby, Illinois. It was a special treat to be able to spend my 31st birthday recapturing my childhood. It was hard to choose just ten.

Adventures of the Right-Brained Homeschooler

So, here's the fabulous thing about homeschooling. You can totally take a second spring break if you need one.

I wasn't planning on taking most of this week off. In fact, I had written out a strict schedule detailing exactly how much we needed to do each day so we could be DONE on May 31st. Every morning lately has been work, work, work.

But we're not taking a break because we're burnt out, we're taking a break so I can get my ducks in a row.

Last week, I just happened to be on Pioneer Woman's homeschooling section, and there was a question from a homeschooling mom about how to teach her child with Dyslexia. I started browsing the comments, because that's what I do. I'm a dedicated blog comment reader. As I read, other moms were using terms and websites I wasn't familiar with, but in between the jargon I started to notice something very familiar. They way they were describing their dyslexic children's learning styles sounded exactly like Thing One.

So, I did another thing I always do: internet investigation. First, I read about the symptoms and characteristics of Dyslexia and was surprised to discover that Thing One had every single one. Then, I read from several sites that it's one of the most inherited conditions, and if there is a family member with Dyslexia, every child has a 50/50 chance of having it too. I reread the symptoms and it dawned on me that Seth had a lot of them as well. In fact, all but one. Huh. Interesting. So, I decided I needed to learn what this condition actually is.

I knew very little about Dyslexia, other than that Cosby episode where Theo is diagnosed, and I thought it just had to do with switching letters. Here's some new information about Dyslexia that really struck me:

1. Dyslexia is much more than letter switching. It has a lot to do with language comprehension, and students with Dyslexia process information in a completely different way than "regular" kids. It affects much more than just reading, but spelling, writing, memorization of rote facts, penmanship, test taking, and grasping arbitrary concepts like the rules of grammar.

2. It's estimated that 40 million people have Dyslexia, and only something like 2 million are diagnosed. The rest just think they struggled in school because they were "bad students".

3. Dyslexia affects more boys than girls.

4. I wouldn't necessarily label Dyslexia a "disability", except in the sense that nearly every mainstream school is not prepared to recognize and help dyslexics. I've felt for a long time that brick and mortar schools are geared toward girls in particular, and are focused on meeting certain state standards. Their goals lean toward teaching to the test, seatwork, and aren't able to embrace different learning styles. I don't   blame teachers for this at all. I can't imagine trying to tailor a lesson to a room of 30 students with an array of learning styles. It would be chaos. I had a friend tell me the other day, and it rang true for us as well, that she and her spouse were on equal ground intellectually, but she did better in school than he did because she was a girl. She enjoyed the school environment and taking tests. He would have preferred activities and hands on learning.

5. There's a long list of famous dyslexics, including several inventors, geniuses, musicians, athletes and entertainers. Roughly half the staff at NASA is dyslexic. This is because dyslexics are often able to grasp large concepts in a way the rest of us can't. One of the bigger symptoms of dyslexia is a student who is extraordinarily bright in some areas, but still struggles with reading and writing. They also tend to have an area of natural ability in athletics or arts. Studies show dyslexics actually use more of their brains than the rest of us.

6. There is a vision component to dyslexia that I still need to do more research on, but it has to do with tracking and muscle fatigue of the eyes. Black letters on a white page will often dance around to a dyslexic, and seeing a special optometrist is recommended.

Here are the symptoms that made the scales fall off my eyes where Thing One is concerned. One of the biggest is spelling. I have long struggled to get Thing One to master spelling. He seemed to do better taking oral spelling tests, but even doing that, he would not retain the information. He could just finish spelling a bunch of words out loud, but then fifteen minutes later, if I asked him to write them on his own, he'd miss the majority of them. And when asked to write in sentence form, he'd consistently misspell high frequency words, like where, what, because. Writing a complete sentence was such a trial. No matter how much we focused on capitalization and punctuation and parts of speech, it just wouldn't stick. He could read okay, missing a few words here and there, but he was so focused on saying the words right that his comprehension of what he was reading suffered. He struggled with memorizing lists, even seemingly simple ones like saying all the days of the week in order. Awana was a royal pain in the rear. It was just impossible for him to remember references and tons of verses and questions and answers in order and without helps. (In fact, Awana, I think you kind of suck as far as helping kids memorize Scripture after Sparks, unless those kids are girls and traditional learners. Rant over.) I started hearing him say things like he wasn't smart because he wasn't a fast reader and couldn't memorize things. But I knew that wasn't true and assured him of it. This is the kid that absorbs scientific facts that he hears like a sponge. He has a brain for math concepts and geography. He's great at reading maps and building with Legos and can remember events with crystal clarity.  He's a natural athlete and spends half his time doing headstands and round offs. He's also shown a little bit of natural talent where drums, piano, and guitar are concerned.

There had to be a reason he wasn't grasping language concepts.

I can't tell you how happy I am to have figured this out. I feel like a burden has been lifted. When you're homeschooling, it's so easy to attribute any difficulties to being someone's fault. I blamed myself for not being able to teach him better. I blamed him for being unmotivated sometimes. I felt bad when I'd let him do spelling tests orally or helped him read the word problems on his math homework--guilty because I wasn't doing things the "right" way.

Well, now I can say with full confidence, screw the "right" way.

The great thing about this is now that we know what it is, we can tackle it in the appropriate way. It's not that Thing One can't master reading and spelling, it's that he wasn't being taught in his language. I'm now investigating all the curriculum and programs available for dyslexics, and homeschooling makes just so much sense right now. I'm so thankful. Thankful that I live in a day and age where these things are studied, dissected, and figured out. Thankful for the internet. Thankful for all the experts who have put so much work into making curriculum geared toward dyslexics. Thankful that we are able to homeschool. Thankful that we can totally make this work for Thing One.

So, I'm still trying to figure out what the rest of this year will look like (hence the second spring break) and I'm getting really excited for next year. And now, I totally get these clips from The Cosby Show.



A very helpful website I've been spending a lot of time on: http://www.brightsolutions.us/

Ten Things

Since I didn't do Ten on Ten this month (well, technically, I did take pictures, but only came with 8 so I ditched the post), I'll happily provide a stupid list of ten bites of randomness.

1. Sunday is the only day that Homegirl will sleep in past 8 a.m. Every single other day, she's up at the crack of dawn. I do not appreciate her schedule or her willingness to be such a heathen.

2. I'm still super busy--far more than I prefer to be. I will be so thankful when this school year is finally over. I'm feeling burnt out and so over multiplication tables and trying to get Thing One to spell the tiniest words right. It's an ironic torture that a grammar perfectionist such as myself, who spends so much time judging people for their spelling and grammar on social media, has produced a math brained child who consistently forgets that words need vowels. I feel that he must be doing this on purpose.

3. My latest exciting development is that I have brushed up on my piano playing skills, which are quite limited to begin with, and I can now play (some) chords. I don't play them well, but that doesn't stop me from trying. For hours. My poor family. But I can finally somewhat accompany myself when I want to sing something. You have no idea how happy this makes me. So happy, that it doesn't bother me when I have to skip four or five measures in "For Good" because I'm like those are strange, voodoo chords. 

4. I'm having trouble coming up with interesting things for this list.

5. I'm counting down the days until the long awaited, long pined over mini vacation with Seth to Chicago. I'm even looking forward to the drive there. I love my kids to the point where spending every waking moment (and many sleeping ones) with them isn't awful, but at the same time, four delicious days of just us. No whining, wiping, schooling, cooking, wrangling, or cleaning. For FOUR days! Oh, and the photography. I've been dreaming about it for years. Years! I know, that's sad. But I have lots of photo ideas already set up in my head. I know the reality shots won't be nearly as good as the ones in my head, but I'll love trying.

6. I'm currently wearing Seth t-shirt that says "Trekkie" across the front. It feels like a lie.

7. We've found a show to watch to soften the sting of losing Fringe. Thank goodness for Netflix. It's Supernatural, which at first I was like, no way, this show is from the CW. The actors will be too pretty and not be able to act and the stories will be all teenagery. But I gave it a chance because people I trust liked it. The actors are indeed too pretty, but they can act, and also, the show is made by many former X-Files crew and the writing is pretty decent. Plus, it's the only show in the entire history of science fiction television that has scared the pants off me. It's not for everyone (hard shelled Baptists might not appreciate all the exorcisms) but we're enjoying it. I hope it stays good and doesn't get all blasphemous in later seasons. We just finished season one. My favorites are the ghost episodes.

8. I need to clean my room.

9. Pinterest. It's seriously the one website other than Amazon that has changed my life for the better. Everyone's like, oh it's such a time waster and it makes you discontent with your life and whatnot. But I feel exactly the opposite. Pinterest is perfect for lazy, unmotivated me. I'm more of a copier than a creator and this is perfect for me. Cooking, cleaning, decorating, fashion and makeup, and especially school have all gotten incredibly easier with the ideas I've pinned. If I had to make a choice between Facebook and Pinterest...sorry, Mark Zuckerberg. You lose.

10. It's time for my morning iced coffee. And yes, I learned how to make it from Pinterest.

Have a good one, people!

Being Dragged

My brain is tired.

I haven't been able to find the time, let alone the inspiration, to blog the last few weeks. March was the sort of month that you come to the end of feeling ridiculously exhausted, but everything's a blur so you're not sure why.

"Ridden hard and put away wet" as my mom would say. And then we'd all snicker at her, because she's a hillbilly and we have dirty minds.

I don't do well with business. Not the normal business of life, like getting chores done and taking care of the kids. It's the extra things and the stuff that's not routine that makes it hard for me to focus. Things start to feel cluttered, both physically and mentally, and the walls seem to close in on me. When business starts to heat up, I feel a bit like Homegirl when she's taking a walk. She doesn't want to hold someone's hand, she wants to blaze her own trail. But when the authority takes her by the wrist and leads her, it's a bit more like dragging than walking.

A room project (and the mess that comes with it), sickness and doctor's visits, Seth's work schedule changing a bit, three excruciating weeks of parenting, a busy holiday, and attacking homeschool with everything I've got....whew.

And there are also the mental things that seem to be piling up. As usual, the problems arising tend to deal with money. It's not nearly as bad as it once was (praise the Lord), but there seem to be big expenses looming everywhere we turn. We have a large, dying tree in our backyard that needs to come down asap. We've got our trip to Chicago coming up that we've already put off for two years that I'm really, really, really looking forward to. The van is going to need replacing at some point soon. I'm treating it very gently and doing a lot of "Sunday driving" as Seth calls it. Some (a lot) of things around here need repairing or replacing and the only thing holding up progress is money. And I just found out today that the weird thing on our dog's eye is actually a tumor that needs addressing before it becomes an even more expensive emergency.

I'm trying to calmly tell myself that we've been through worse. But the "what-ifs" keep nagging at me. That tree could come down and not only damage our house but physically harm us. George's eye could deteriorate rapidly and explode all over. The van could die, or worse, stop working while I'm driving it. 

These are annoying, because I'm not usually a fretter. I'm far too lazy to really get worked up about things and I'm far too realistic to imagine every bad thing happening. But every so often, life likes to remind me that I have no control over anything except my response. My kids seem to be intent on me learning this lesson lately too.

I don't want to be stressed. But I also can't ignore the issues.

So, I've been doing a lot of praying. I struggle with wanting to do more than "just praying", because I long for control and a quick fix so I can return to my peaceful, normal pace of life. But it's good to be reminded that God is sovereign, paying attention, and ready to guide me.

I know I'm not the only one here feeling like I'm swimming upstream. Even with my sincere affection for normalcy, life happens, and we're not given a magic 8 ball to tell us exactly how to finagle problems. But we do know the source of peace, the one who can see in the dark and has a firm grip on our hands.

"And we know that God causes all things to work together 

for good to those who love God, to those who are called 

according to His purpose."

March Ten on Ten

A warm and wonderful Sunday full of music, naps, spray painting, and apple pie: