Today I feel like a pimple on Life's face. I am irritated, agitated around the edges, and ready to pop. I find it incredibly ironic that it is now, in the quiet week, that I feel the most emotionally and mentally squeezed rather than during the tumult of end of term projects. Do I thrive under pressure? Or, do I have a hard time being alone with my thoughts?
I feel as though the emotional work that I have been doing over the past four months both with and through my academic work was what they describe in academic methodology "squishy." The boundaries that once seemed so firm and constrictive began to give way. My own concept of my position in life became more malleable as I began to poke at some of my core beliefs about myself. I took it all in small doses as my life continued to run on around me, which may have been a saving grace. Now, the race over, I am trying to determine how much squishy = messy.
I find now, with hours of open time to myself that I don't quite understand what "productive" is. I feel merit in finally just relaxing and breathing; yet as I slow down, I start to go down. I know depression. I have spent plenty enough time with it as a house guest in the past that I can recognize it coming up the drive. I liked the constant pressure of time - squeezing every bit of usefulness out of time. I made sure to squeeze in time for myself in the midst of it all, but never felt such a victim of time now that I have too much of it. Josh likes to use the phrase "playing the victim" which perhaps I am this week. It is Wednesday this week and I am a victim to lost time. Non-regimented time. What stresses me most is not deadlines, it is dead time.
In this emotionally vunerable white space that I am experiencing I am ready to burst. I probably shouldn't take the pimple analogy too far, you can imagine for yourself the white antibodies gathering around the foreign emotions inside of me that are pushing against the surface. Ready. So ready with any little bit of prodding to release the pressure. To pop. Be careful world, this may all just be a result of fluctuating hormones - but being a pimple is not pleasant.
Showing posts with label nancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nancy. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Saturday, April 25, 2015
In the name of procrastination
As it is late-ish on a Saturday night and I have already watched a dumb movie this afternoon - my brain says there is no way that I can do any significant writing for end of term papers - I feel compelled to feel productive. Posting feels productive. As it is the last remaining vestige of journaling that I actively maintain (I somewhat compile my communications in a bit of an archive just in case someday I am famous and anyone cares), it is time to lay down some mortar that might stick together the past months. As it is, I have no evidence online that the Button family continued to exist beyond the year 2014. We are alive. The apocalypse did not hit Indiana (although there are rumors that our proximity to Adam-on-diaman may give us some advance warning) and force us into oblivion. Herein lies the proof:
Whereas I used this blog in one of my research projects on journal writing, which will probably become a theme as I continue to work with family history writing projects, I hope to keep everyone posted. That is, anyone who is still interested in the ancient form of blogging (came out in 2005 and after a decade in the digital world it is basically dino bones). I teach blogging to my beginning composition students of one the original internet writing genres and LOVE it!
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| We packed up and moved into our new house on December 23rd. It was the fastest unpack I have ever done because we needed to have a 'home' atmosphere for Christmas. |
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| In this photo it is very apparent that the elements of tradition that was forcing me to roll sushi on New Years was not personally what I wanted to be doing. But the kids love it. With the speed of the move, I am super impressed that I was able to keep up with any tradition. But with the kids, they are old enough now to keep the guilt trip coming: that is the essence of tradition and as we edit our past when older, each one of those consistent years together will paint a picture of family bliss and fun despite Mom being cranky in 2015. |
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| Josh and I made it to 33. I don't remember what I got for Josh for his birthday and I only remember going to get some hair coloring done on my birthday...wow that doesn't speak well for early thirties! |
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| Through January and February we had plenty 'snow day' cancellation from school which had nothing to do with snow but with a bit of chilled weather. We loved having the ambiance of a fire to do some homework by on some of the chill days. I do have amazing kids. Most of the time we are getting along and enjoy the same activities. |
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| Snow day core strengthening activities. Viv is the only one of us with a strong core. Danny is too ticklish to stay long in an airplane and Faith is floppy. |
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| So impressive - the kids wrote a play about cats and created costumes. Day well spent. |
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| January 14th, 2015 my baby turned 8. Wahoo! I am no longer accountable for her sins! Really, now we are all just accountable for the emotionality of burgeoning independence. |
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| I couldn't have imagined how beautiful this day would be. Faith chose to be baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. She has such a mature soul and perceptive intellect that the choice was deeply felt by us all and I felt something more pure than proud, perhaps it is joy. |
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| While Grammie and Grampie were in town for the baptism we went out for the first roller-skating experience. The kids were pretty amazing. Maybe I am a mean mom, but I wouldn't let them use the walkers on wheels as a crutch for learning. In my opinion, they learned faster than if they had a walker, but I have no proof that there is any correlation. Mostly it was their determination. |
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| Disco baby! |
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| March we took a trip over to Columbus Ohio to visit the Ohio State University. The trip was a combo of PhD program interviewing, temple visit, and most important for the kids - OSU vs Boise State gymnastics meet! We reconnected with a cousin of mine who joined us at the meet. It was really cool to see the women gymnasts do some amazing stuff so close up. We tell Viv were are investing in her college tuition by paying for gymnastic lessons now - no pressure. |
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| I may have gone a bit overboard with the eggs for color, not that the kids minded. And we have a giant yard to hide them in, we just had to make sure we had an accurate count. |
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| With Auntie Jill living with us she makes sure we schedule plenty of outings to experience life beyond our home. We watched the IPFW mens baseball up to the 6th inning and decided we are more excited for the Tin Caps season to open than we thought. |
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| The excursion to the game was worth it for Danny who found a ball in the grass and when he tried to return in to the team, they said he could keep it. Free game. Free ball. |
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| I've been working hard as a student his past semester and have had some academic honors bestowed upon me. Fancy. I presented a couple of my papers at conferences and symposiums and it accumulated in a scholarship award from the department. I am grateful to have the recognition not to inflate the ego, but rather to be able to celebrate what I am doing as a contribution. It is nice to know your work is appreciated. |
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Sincerely yours, me again
I have been laying in bed now for the past hour trying, willing, pleading with my head to turn off so I could go to sleep. Obviously, I have failed. I decided, I would try the old method, one I had spent most of the afternoon 'researching' and reacquainting myself with: journaling.
From the age of 8 through 23 I kept a fairly consistent nightly journal. Through the years I gave different journals names. I called them my only friend and confidant. I finally got the the habitual point that would not allow me to go to sleep without first laying the day to rest in textual format. I say I was 'researching' this afternoon as I was browsing selectively through my journals for references to my sense of identity and family. I will be drafting an 18 page paper tomorrow that deals with that subject, in which I get to be one of my own research subjects - that is, the past me.
The research brain in me was fascinated with seeing how my writing and voice developed overtime. There were elements of my writing style which have never changed - that flow of consciousness that is playful and teasing. Yet there were structural elements that I tinkered with - I can read now how I was intentionally moulding a literate voice full of phrases and terminology that expanded and contracted with my idea of what a good writer was. Being literary person really manipulated even my very personal writing.
Beyond the interest in textuality, which I did get past, I began to sink into the ebb and flow over the years of self-doubt, depression, and confidence that I still struggle with now. I was impressed by the constant struggle with conscious self and mortality. My thoughts and feelings so often were in contest. My desires were strong, perhaps the flesh was weak. I still feel that struggle. Even looking back at myself from that third-person reader stance, I feel empathy for my own self. Still, my desires overshoot my behaviors. I want so much to become that living seems to get in the way. The massive hurdles of priority and balance, coupled so closely together, often trip me up. As evident in this past week.
I have been feeling the mounting pressure of the end of semester. Yet, at the same time, a lot of momentum is building in our family as well. Pressured by our sellers, we moved our home signing up to Wednesday. I had not anticipated this large chunk of time devoted to a new house. On Tuesday the kids got out of school at half day, which meant that I had the remainder of a very important week needing to be devoted to motherhood rather than student work. I coiled the student-self spring tight inside my chest telling myself I could let it release at certain times when the family did not need me to do some powerful school work. The coil is still cocked and I am near crazy!
Since the kids got out of school Tuesday half-day, and it was Grandparents day at school, I stayed at the school to help with the event and visit in the kids' classrooms to avoid 2 hours of driving for 2 hours at home. We had barely recouped from a very stimulating half-day at school when it was the usual racecar rally to various lessons: Faith and Viv start lessons at 4pm, then Danny and I pick up Viv at 5:30, then swing around to pick up Faith by 5:45, come home for quick nacho dinner then all are back in the car to take Danny back to 6:30 tap lessons. It is a regular Tuesday after school relay in order to clear up other afternoons of the week. Of course, no school work was fit into that schedule.
Wednesday the house signing went lonnnng. I then had to take the kids to Grabill for piano lessons since their teachers' car was broken. We got home around 2pm and had a lot of housework to accomplish. I want to believe I was productive with all my time that afternoon, but the state of my stress from the coiled spring inside and unexpected timeline shift and sent me into an anxious shock. I felt good getting a couple layers on the rainbow Jello and watching a movie with the kids.
Thursday Josh was home with us. He was home with us all weekend. His presence at home is wonderful. It was a stay-cation, time devoted to family. We all chipped in to make a Thanksgiving meal that was delicious, although void of enthusiasm. I didn't care to invite people over for the meal knowing my emotional instability of late and I missed the family traditions of old. We at and then digested to "A Muppet Christmas Carol." Unfortunately, at some point during dinner preparations, we clogged the kitchen sink which made Thanksgiving dishes linger....and linger....and linger...
Friday we got to go to our new home, which is purchased but not yet ready to be lived in, to visualize what life will be like when we move in 21 days from now. It was Josh's first time in the home. The sellers took the time to show us the quirks of the home and then left us to measuring and musing. It took the majority of the afternoon. We made a quick stop at Lowe's for some boxes to pack away the wall hangings that Josh and I had been pulling off the walls at our current home. The weekend was devoted to patching walls and painting them to an untouched glory. After a discussion with the sellers, Josh and I made a very late night decision to do some late night Black Friday shopping to help Santa bring a TV to our family for the first time.
Saturday we waited anxiously for a plumber to finally free the kitchen pipes, which did not happen until late afternoon. During the morning's frustration we managed to get the Christmas decorations in place to welcome the holiday cheer into this home for one final (to be cut short) season. Our enthusiasm for preparing for he new home occupied our spare thoughts, considering these three precious days were the seldom few Josh and I had to discuss ideas and purchases in real time. We made a fast trip to a furniture store to verify that online prices were better and made it home to more online shopping. Rugs, rugs, rugs! It becomes a problem when there really are too many choices. I became frustrated by Sunday afternoon that we did not close the deal and move on. I mentally do not have any more time to devote to the new home or Christmas shopping from now until Dec 17th.
Oh boy. That brings us full circle. I am in a position recorded through my own history as all too familiar. I would like to believe that I have trained myself out of procrastination somewhat over the years. Somewhat. Yet the last minute pressures still mandate a lot of my writing. I have learned to do my research and brainstorming well in advanced. Just the writing. Thus, I lay in bed tonight trying to memorize the full and complete paragraphs for three different compositions that came began drafting in the crowded space right behind my closed eyelids. I tried to force them back behind the curtains in order to relax. I remembered my mother's words "at least let your body rest," as I continued motionless under the covers will my brain was doing gymnastics of all sorts.
I began to pray. Many nights I have spoken softly with God, allowing Him to help me sort through the various thoughts and laying my burdens and trust at His feet for one more night. Tonight I remained distracted and in all desperation, unfolded myself from the warm sheets and came back to the computer screen. If nothing else, staring at a computer screen will unavoidably will me fall asleep. With eyes throbbing and head pulsing, my body is finally ready to give up for the night, and perhaps, thanks to SKATALAT, the 1995 named version of journal writing, I can let my mind rest as well.
From the age of 8 through 23 I kept a fairly consistent nightly journal. Through the years I gave different journals names. I called them my only friend and confidant. I finally got the the habitual point that would not allow me to go to sleep without first laying the day to rest in textual format. I say I was 'researching' this afternoon as I was browsing selectively through my journals for references to my sense of identity and family. I will be drafting an 18 page paper tomorrow that deals with that subject, in which I get to be one of my own research subjects - that is, the past me.
The research brain in me was fascinated with seeing how my writing and voice developed overtime. There were elements of my writing style which have never changed - that flow of consciousness that is playful and teasing. Yet there were structural elements that I tinkered with - I can read now how I was intentionally moulding a literate voice full of phrases and terminology that expanded and contracted with my idea of what a good writer was. Being literary person really manipulated even my very personal writing.
Beyond the interest in textuality, which I did get past, I began to sink into the ebb and flow over the years of self-doubt, depression, and confidence that I still struggle with now. I was impressed by the constant struggle with conscious self and mortality. My thoughts and feelings so often were in contest. My desires were strong, perhaps the flesh was weak. I still feel that struggle. Even looking back at myself from that third-person reader stance, I feel empathy for my own self. Still, my desires overshoot my behaviors. I want so much to become that living seems to get in the way. The massive hurdles of priority and balance, coupled so closely together, often trip me up. As evident in this past week.
I have been feeling the mounting pressure of the end of semester. Yet, at the same time, a lot of momentum is building in our family as well. Pressured by our sellers, we moved our home signing up to Wednesday. I had not anticipated this large chunk of time devoted to a new house. On Tuesday the kids got out of school at half day, which meant that I had the remainder of a very important week needing to be devoted to motherhood rather than student work. I coiled the student-self spring tight inside my chest telling myself I could let it release at certain times when the family did not need me to do some powerful school work. The coil is still cocked and I am near crazy!
Since the kids got out of school Tuesday half-day, and it was Grandparents day at school, I stayed at the school to help with the event and visit in the kids' classrooms to avoid 2 hours of driving for 2 hours at home. We had barely recouped from a very stimulating half-day at school when it was the usual racecar rally to various lessons: Faith and Viv start lessons at 4pm, then Danny and I pick up Viv at 5:30, then swing around to pick up Faith by 5:45, come home for quick nacho dinner then all are back in the car to take Danny back to 6:30 tap lessons. It is a regular Tuesday after school relay in order to clear up other afternoons of the week. Of course, no school work was fit into that schedule.
Wednesday the house signing went lonnnng. I then had to take the kids to Grabill for piano lessons since their teachers' car was broken. We got home around 2pm and had a lot of housework to accomplish. I want to believe I was productive with all my time that afternoon, but the state of my stress from the coiled spring inside and unexpected timeline shift and sent me into an anxious shock. I felt good getting a couple layers on the rainbow Jello and watching a movie with the kids.
Thursday Josh was home with us. He was home with us all weekend. His presence at home is wonderful. It was a stay-cation, time devoted to family. We all chipped in to make a Thanksgiving meal that was delicious, although void of enthusiasm. I didn't care to invite people over for the meal knowing my emotional instability of late and I missed the family traditions of old. We at and then digested to "A Muppet Christmas Carol." Unfortunately, at some point during dinner preparations, we clogged the kitchen sink which made Thanksgiving dishes linger....and linger....and linger...
Friday we got to go to our new home, which is purchased but not yet ready to be lived in, to visualize what life will be like when we move in 21 days from now. It was Josh's first time in the home. The sellers took the time to show us the quirks of the home and then left us to measuring and musing. It took the majority of the afternoon. We made a quick stop at Lowe's for some boxes to pack away the wall hangings that Josh and I had been pulling off the walls at our current home. The weekend was devoted to patching walls and painting them to an untouched glory. After a discussion with the sellers, Josh and I made a very late night decision to do some late night Black Friday shopping to help Santa bring a TV to our family for the first time.
Saturday we waited anxiously for a plumber to finally free the kitchen pipes, which did not happen until late afternoon. During the morning's frustration we managed to get the Christmas decorations in place to welcome the holiday cheer into this home for one final (to be cut short) season. Our enthusiasm for preparing for he new home occupied our spare thoughts, considering these three precious days were the seldom few Josh and I had to discuss ideas and purchases in real time. We made a fast trip to a furniture store to verify that online prices were better and made it home to more online shopping. Rugs, rugs, rugs! It becomes a problem when there really are too many choices. I became frustrated by Sunday afternoon that we did not close the deal and move on. I mentally do not have any more time to devote to the new home or Christmas shopping from now until Dec 17th.
Oh boy. That brings us full circle. I am in a position recorded through my own history as all too familiar. I would like to believe that I have trained myself out of procrastination somewhat over the years. Somewhat. Yet the last minute pressures still mandate a lot of my writing. I have learned to do my research and brainstorming well in advanced. Just the writing. Thus, I lay in bed tonight trying to memorize the full and complete paragraphs for three different compositions that came began drafting in the crowded space right behind my closed eyelids. I tried to force them back behind the curtains in order to relax. I remembered my mother's words "at least let your body rest," as I continued motionless under the covers will my brain was doing gymnastics of all sorts.
I began to pray. Many nights I have spoken softly with God, allowing Him to help me sort through the various thoughts and laying my burdens and trust at His feet for one more night. Tonight I remained distracted and in all desperation, unfolded myself from the warm sheets and came back to the computer screen. If nothing else, staring at a computer screen will unavoidably will me fall asleep. With eyes throbbing and head pulsing, my body is finally ready to give up for the night, and perhaps, thanks to SKATALAT, the 1995 named version of journal writing, I can let my mind rest as well.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
LaFoo, I'm afraid I've been thinking....
While driving, daily, to kids school, from kids school, to my school, home again, I have taken to driving with my thoughts as passenger. A dangerous pastime, I know.
Luckily my mind is in a positive spot to talk with me and the dialogue has been helpful. Here is what we have concluded:
I really love Viv. October is a month that used to be about Josh and I and our wedding, but now with Viv being nearly 7, it is even more about Viv than it was four years ago when she took over the month by storm. Viv's birthday is in....2 days. She turns 7. She is still so small and learning so much, I don't accept it well, but I enjoy her so very much. In conversation with other mothers recently they commented on the perfect family: one boy child one girl. We had that with Faith and Danny but it wasn't a perfect family. I haven't recognized as much as I ought how perfectly Viv fits in this family. She is celebrating 4 years in our family, 2 years fully adopted, and a Halloween that isn't scary to any of us. I love her intensely. She is the drama in my life - the type that you see in good movies that makes your heart leap and twist and turn and sigh. SO AMAZING!! You should see her joy and perseverance every day. I love her. I love her.
I love all my family. Family in all sorts of ways. I am fighting academically right now to recognize the struggles that we go through within families as significant as a 'master narrative.' Why do I need society on the outside too? I have a future with fighting in this arena - families are communities. Families are where identity starts and ends. Self is represented in all sorts of social contexts but it is permanently influenced by family. I just gotta get more serious about writing out all these thoughts.
I don't like being told no. If it is for my safety, say no. Otherwise, don't limit me. Don't tell me I can't have it, or become that, or dream it. Don't tell me that. I've been constrained enough. If God wants me to reach my full potential, who are you to tell me I don't have it in me? Give me a chance, and don't underestimate what I can do. I am amazing. And so are you; so take your own advice.
Life is about choices. We all make them and I would argue when know when we are making them. We way the cost and then we just go for it. I have a a pretty strong base for the choices I make but still find myself calling myself into question sometimes. I make mistakes. I am okay with that. I am not rationalizing when I make my choices or evaluate the choices I have made.
I am in charge of my own body. I don't like pharmaceuticals. They make my brain not my own. If I can't communicate clearly with my brain, I'm in trouble. I have physical limitations; it is really hard to hurt. Hurting is not all bad as long as I am comfortable mentally. Always good to feed the body and the mind and make connections with people.
Okay. I was hoping that I could get the writing juices going because I need write a dialogue paper in the next hour and a half. So here's my non-academic voice, at least I can use that in the upcoming paper....
Luckily my mind is in a positive spot to talk with me and the dialogue has been helpful. Here is what we have concluded:
I really love Viv. October is a month that used to be about Josh and I and our wedding, but now with Viv being nearly 7, it is even more about Viv than it was four years ago when she took over the month by storm. Viv's birthday is in....2 days. She turns 7. She is still so small and learning so much, I don't accept it well, but I enjoy her so very much. In conversation with other mothers recently they commented on the perfect family: one boy child one girl. We had that with Faith and Danny but it wasn't a perfect family. I haven't recognized as much as I ought how perfectly Viv fits in this family. She is celebrating 4 years in our family, 2 years fully adopted, and a Halloween that isn't scary to any of us. I love her intensely. She is the drama in my life - the type that you see in good movies that makes your heart leap and twist and turn and sigh. SO AMAZING!! You should see her joy and perseverance every day. I love her. I love her.
I love all my family. Family in all sorts of ways. I am fighting academically right now to recognize the struggles that we go through within families as significant as a 'master narrative.' Why do I need society on the outside too? I have a future with fighting in this arena - families are communities. Families are where identity starts and ends. Self is represented in all sorts of social contexts but it is permanently influenced by family. I just gotta get more serious about writing out all these thoughts.
I don't like being told no. If it is for my safety, say no. Otherwise, don't limit me. Don't tell me I can't have it, or become that, or dream it. Don't tell me that. I've been constrained enough. If God wants me to reach my full potential, who are you to tell me I don't have it in me? Give me a chance, and don't underestimate what I can do. I am amazing. And so are you; so take your own advice.
Life is about choices. We all make them and I would argue when know when we are making them. We way the cost and then we just go for it. I have a a pretty strong base for the choices I make but still find myself calling myself into question sometimes. I make mistakes. I am okay with that. I am not rationalizing when I make my choices or evaluate the choices I have made.
I am in charge of my own body. I don't like pharmaceuticals. They make my brain not my own. If I can't communicate clearly with my brain, I'm in trouble. I have physical limitations; it is really hard to hurt. Hurting is not all bad as long as I am comfortable mentally. Always good to feed the body and the mind and make connections with people.
Okay. I was hoping that I could get the writing juices going because I need write a dialogue paper in the next hour and a half. So here's my non-academic voice, at least I can use that in the upcoming paper....
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Introducing Professor Button.....Instructor, rather
Fall Semester of IPFW started on Monday August 25th, 2014. I began the semester as a student with 7 credits moving closer to my master's degree. I also started a new dimension of my higher education as well, that of being a graduate assistant. I am being paid to practice being a university professor. More thought went into that first week of teaching than did my first week of student-ing.
Truthfully, the first week of the semester blew by faster than a whirlwind. Indefinitely, I had thought and dreamt about that first day and the jovial and personable teacher I would be, thus leading into the Most Influential Teacher of their Semester/college career. I will not empty my optimistic glass quite yet to say that there is still not a possibility I could be the Most Influential Teacher of their Semester, but I will say the glasses are becoming clearer, less on the pink side.
I am a girl and thus did think about my outfit on the first day of school. I have been dreaming of the day that I would become a professor for a long time. Being an "instructor" or "graduate assistant" did not graduate my outfit yet to the professional frumpiness of over-sized sweaters and messy buns, but I did get to consider myself a professional. I looked a my wardrobe as a way to visually show my students that I meant business, but still had a personality. I mashed up the traditional work-place pencil skirt with one of my light weight (knowing I would sweat no matter the temperature in the classroom) colorful blouses. I tied the whole thing together with beige pumps, the color of my hemline although regrettably without a nude pair of "stockings" to reinforce a completely well-bred woman. I am from Idaho after all.
I can accept at this age of my life that I am a bit of a last minute person. I certainly have all the mandatory framework pounded into place, ah! but let's leave the interior design to fall together organically! I had determined that the course syllabus for this first teaching semester would contain my philosophy and major due dates, but the weekly calendar I could just not settle on. I have taught often enough to know that I do not feel comfortable telling my class what they do or do not need to learn without getting to know them. I struck a compromise with my guilty conscience which insisted that every student appreciates knowing what is coming ahead with a calendar and determined I would release the calendar online one week in advance thus giving me room to switch assigned readings, build content the class, and adapt to the students.
After the first day of class, I was glad I had allowed myself such flexibility in the calendar. I asked how many of my students where in their first semester ever of college. All but one of my 23 students raised their hand. Oi! Babies, all of them (to the university experience, I do have one non-traditional student that established early on his persona of being older and more experience in life - we did clear up on day two of class that he was not older than me, by a couple of months, not that I told him that). Although, not babies to writing. After a few journal entries and discussing our class goals and their personal goals, I realized I had played into the negative stigma of the un-learned W131 students. I realize I am blessed to have a class of early risers - setting up classes before noon as a college freshman must be given credit - but will still not undermine how well prepared the are, and eager, to become proficient writers.
I stood at the head of the classroom tied to the computer the first day set apart from them by my access to blackboard as an instructor. I was also setting the precedent that I am the instructor; a person with a bit more experience in this realm of composition that I can induct them adequately into academic writing. I know where my strengths are as a writer and a person. I recognize that my students have strengths in areas that I may not. As it reads in my syllabus, I take my role as an instructor seriously. If I don't give them adequate tools and strategies to succeed in this academic world, I have not done what I am being paid for - more importantly, what I am passionate about.
The second day of class I was among them. We 'circled the wagons' in our tight little room and got to know one another. I took pictures on my iPad for roll call. The pictures was a fine tool to have for reference when reading their initial entries. I wanted to make sure I was attributing their words to the right face. They are each individual writers for sure! I was surprised, from an instructors perspective, how quickly the mood changed when the chairs were all turned to the center. I wish my room were larger, or my class size smaller, to make it more comfortable to circle-up more frequently. We will certainly do it more, for that configuration changed things a great deal.
On Friday the fine glow of the first week was waning. Students were more sleepy. School and all its realities had set in. Thankfully, I had relaxed my own dress a bit and could comiserate a bit with them. My optimism had not faded. I am still impressed and enthusiastic about my students and their potential. College is still exciting for me. I recognize that my "distance over time" affects how I feel about being an instructor to freshmen. I am nostalgic about those first few years of discovery. I remember the good that a university education did for me before embarking in the "real world" for decade before returning. Certainly I am not old and frumpy, but I am well set to be an 'instructor' in this realm. Having left the title up to the students, I am a bit gratified that some students open their emails with a 'Professor Button' greeting despite my obvious lack of a doctorate, for now ;).
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Weighing Measurement
I had a two mile conversation with myself yesterday while on a relaxing jog in the beautiful weather that went something like this:
"Why do you feel compelled to weigh yourself on the scale at least once a week if you are finally at the beautiful point in your life that you can just love your body regardless of pant size?"
"Because I still like knowing how much I weigh."
"Why? It doesn't have any bearing on changing your eating habits or what exercise you are going to be able to do?"
"True. I have dealt with enough fatigue and illness now to know that eating is to sustain life and exercise is to stay strong, not for getting skinny. I don't care about skinny. I just feel more secure when I know what range I am in, and sometimes get a little excited/happy that I have 'lost' weight."
"But you know that your body weight fluctuates 5-8 pounds depending on which part of your menstrual cycle you are in. Scales aren't accurate. The one at the doctors always puts you 3 pounds heavier than the one at home, and that is not just clothing."
"Right, but I use a measured average to know which way I am going. Doctors use your body weight as a measurement of health. Obviously I don't feel obese and I am strong and have good cardiovascular health, we are running right now. I think my tie to the scale is not about my actual size but more about measuring progress."
"You are trying to argue that scales are measurements of progress?"
"In a way. They are like 'To-Do Lists' for me. Early on in my home-making days I would make crazy long To-Do lists and then expect to get everything done. I would push myself all day to keep moving because I had so much "To-Do." Well, then I had kids and through experience got wise. I still made To-Do lists occasionally to organize my thoughts, but used them as a mark toward progress made, not a measurement of my success. A successful day was doing one thing on the 'To-Do' list and staying happy with the kids.
I feel like I have mature and become wise with the scale too. Admittedly, 4 years ago I bought this fancy scale to be daily vigilant of my weight and body fat percentage to get to my 'Peak-Performance.' I got there. And it was cool at that time in my life. My 'Peak Performance' then looks a lot different than it does now. So now I just measure performance. I just step on the scale to see how my body is reacting to life and helps me keep in perspective the goal of staying healthy and within a good range for my own daily performance and average things out overtime without obsessing over the fluctuations or being at the 'Peak' of anything but happiness."
"So why can't you just get rid of the scale if you are measuring happiness not weight?"
"I like numbers. I feel like that on good days I can exaggerate things and likewise on the bad days, when probably the numbers are the same. I feel better having something giving me data as feedback. For the same reason I wear a heart rate monitor and GPS/Timer watch when I exercise. I know when I am working out hard, or pushing it a little, but it is nice to have the numbers there to confirm that I am not placing myself in a delusional fancy place. Sometimes I am surprised that my head and the numbers don't agree, but when I feel my body objectively with the numbers as a guide I see where my brain is being silly. Numbers help measure a lot of things, I suppose even sanity. And happiness is being sane. Is that a good enough justification?"
"As Josh would say, 'You are a lawyers daughter.' But really, what we are trying to figure out is if we have finally come to a point where stepping on the scale is a healthy habit or not."
"I think we are finally there, at that healthy body and mind point. The point where we can look at the numbers and feel where we are at physically and then make a mental note for progress if things are not so positive, or if they are unrealistically positive, keep it in perspective. Fact is, I love my body and fully embrace the mom butt that I have. Changing shapes is weird, and expensive (as we know from this past weekends second-hand shopping spree to size up into more wide hip loving shorts), but it is also part of learning grace in aging."
"Do we want to talk now about how we feel about getting old?"
"We'll save that one for later, for now let's just enjoy the run and the fact that measuring progress is part of who we are and what we like."
"Why do you feel compelled to weigh yourself on the scale at least once a week if you are finally at the beautiful point in your life that you can just love your body regardless of pant size?"
"Because I still like knowing how much I weigh."
"Why? It doesn't have any bearing on changing your eating habits or what exercise you are going to be able to do?"
"True. I have dealt with enough fatigue and illness now to know that eating is to sustain life and exercise is to stay strong, not for getting skinny. I don't care about skinny. I just feel more secure when I know what range I am in, and sometimes get a little excited/happy that I have 'lost' weight."
"But you know that your body weight fluctuates 5-8 pounds depending on which part of your menstrual cycle you are in. Scales aren't accurate. The one at the doctors always puts you 3 pounds heavier than the one at home, and that is not just clothing."
"Right, but I use a measured average to know which way I am going. Doctors use your body weight as a measurement of health. Obviously I don't feel obese and I am strong and have good cardiovascular health, we are running right now. I think my tie to the scale is not about my actual size but more about measuring progress."
"You are trying to argue that scales are measurements of progress?"
"In a way. They are like 'To-Do Lists' for me. Early on in my home-making days I would make crazy long To-Do lists and then expect to get everything done. I would push myself all day to keep moving because I had so much "To-Do." Well, then I had kids and through experience got wise. I still made To-Do lists occasionally to organize my thoughts, but used them as a mark toward progress made, not a measurement of my success. A successful day was doing one thing on the 'To-Do' list and staying happy with the kids.
I feel like I have mature and become wise with the scale too. Admittedly, 4 years ago I bought this fancy scale to be daily vigilant of my weight and body fat percentage to get to my 'Peak-Performance.' I got there. And it was cool at that time in my life. My 'Peak Performance' then looks a lot different than it does now. So now I just measure performance. I just step on the scale to see how my body is reacting to life and helps me keep in perspective the goal of staying healthy and within a good range for my own daily performance and average things out overtime without obsessing over the fluctuations or being at the 'Peak' of anything but happiness."
"So why can't you just get rid of the scale if you are measuring happiness not weight?"
"I like numbers. I feel like that on good days I can exaggerate things and likewise on the bad days, when probably the numbers are the same. I feel better having something giving me data as feedback. For the same reason I wear a heart rate monitor and GPS/Timer watch when I exercise. I know when I am working out hard, or pushing it a little, but it is nice to have the numbers there to confirm that I am not placing myself in a delusional fancy place. Sometimes I am surprised that my head and the numbers don't agree, but when I feel my body objectively with the numbers as a guide I see where my brain is being silly. Numbers help measure a lot of things, I suppose even sanity. And happiness is being sane. Is that a good enough justification?"
"As Josh would say, 'You are a lawyers daughter.' But really, what we are trying to figure out is if we have finally come to a point where stepping on the scale is a healthy habit or not."
"I think we are finally there, at that healthy body and mind point. The point where we can look at the numbers and feel where we are at physically and then make a mental note for progress if things are not so positive, or if they are unrealistically positive, keep it in perspective. Fact is, I love my body and fully embrace the mom butt that I have. Changing shapes is weird, and expensive (as we know from this past weekends second-hand shopping spree to size up into more wide hip loving shorts), but it is also part of learning grace in aging."
"Do we want to talk now about how we feel about getting old?"
"We'll save that one for later, for now let's just enjoy the run and the fact that measuring progress is part of who we are and what we like."
Monday, May 19, 2014
Finding my soul in one semester past
This past semester I have written - composed and typed on the computer, sometimes handwriting them on back pages of texts books - more pages of text than ever before in my life. It should be expected, of course, since I am a composition and rhetoric emphasis in a master's program. Here is there real break through though - I HAVE LOVED IT ALL!
Seriously. When in my life have I ever had to seriously edit back my thoughts so as to not exceed my 20 page limit for a research project? When you have been writing 1-3 page responses on 75-150 page readings for two classes every week for 16 weeks and you are still mega excited about writing your final project such that I was NOT up until the last minute turning them in.
What has been so intriguing Nancy? I feel like I have finally found my soul in writing. Things that I have believed are meaningful and I have wanted to present somewhere in written form are finally finding their niche. Two courses guided me into this happy valley of compositional bliss: Family History Writing and Composing Communities.
The two courses converged in giving me a space to write academically about the influence of literacy on the concept of identity and how communities affect that self-identification as well. The literate world, or the way in which we learn to learn, whether it be by text or other means, is where we shape who we are and cannot be considered in isolation. I have felt this concept so strongly in three places; Myself as represented in years of journals, My family where I have learned the most and still claim the largest parts of my identity, and My faith and religious training throughout my life.
In my final synthesis paper for the Family History Writing course I was able to kick start what I feel will be a massive and wonderful venture for a career:
Over a four month
period, I was introduced to the nuanced and burgeoning possibilities of family
history writing within literacy studies.
As a developing field, our course goals aimed to review and reap as much
academically relevant material to define the scope of this writing
community. Benedict Anderson wrote in Imagined Communities that boundaries of
communities, although defined, are elastic.
He theorized that membership within a community may not necessarily be
based on face-to-face contact, as it once was, but on the largely text based
boundaries that maintain unique identity while encompassing larger more vaguely
defined groups. This definition of
community is useful in looking at the group of people engaging in family
history writing, as well as the communities they are writing about – families.
Because of the
marginalized position of family history writing within composition disciplines
and methodology, much of the synthesis and defining of what family history
writing comes from the contextualization of personal family history writing as
supplemented by the ongoing understanding of where that writing would fit
within an academic framework. Although
the purpose of this synthesis is not to argue the validity of family history
writing academically, it does hope to carve out a meaning and purpose for
writing done within multigenre and multimodal rhetorical and literary
studies. What I feel is most poignant
therefore, is to define the family and theorize by whom it should be written to
emphasize that meaning within academia.
Theorizing and synthesizing family history
writing has allowed me to feel more a part of the community of family history
writers as well as a more aware part of my own family community. Being part of a community is more about the
individual investment in the meanings, values, and relationships of the
community than about defining boundaries.
No specific methodology or theory can teach so many of the intrinsically
felt spaces within a community, even within a writing genre. As boundaries are crossed, extended and
expanded, writing studies are becoming more elastic and stretching the
abilities of our understanding about literacy and relationships. We family history writers make our own
meanings, and in that way, prove to academia that our subject is of worth. It is writing essential to a broader
definition of identity, and close enough to home for all of us to make
changes. What becomes accessible through
the diligent and mulit-modal work of family history writing is more than
stories, lineage, and historical facts, it is the identity that creates us all
from the very foundation up. We give
testimony and permanence to the sensitive and nuanced definition of who family
is and where they fit in a broader spectrum.
That is the beginning and end of 18 pages of passionate writing combining two courses that led me to the gate. Here I finally am, where I start on my real journey to fulfilling one of my dreams to write, and I am passionate about it! I have a list of books to read over the summer, none of which would sound interesting to anyone outside of literacy studies, unless they really loved me and were patient enough to fein interest. One square of that messy wall of cork board (the original Pintrest ya'll) is covered in articles I have found during research that I have read and will use in a thesis paper next year or just enjoy reading. The other squares help keep me grounded and rounded; my dreams and positive statements square, the landscaping and home improvement square, calendaring square, home management, and kid school stuff. I am a well squared person you might say.
At the end of a blissful semester and stressful season of life, my husband ordered me a rad gift to celebrate all the time I had spent typing in front of the home office computer. I think he is finally realizing that I will be doing more writing, not less, and wishes to save my aching back. Although my alley trash duct-taped 3-legged chair was functional in the sense I could sit on it so long as I jammed the 4th leg in at the right angle and sat quickly, this new gift is a fine improvement.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Godly Parenting
Parenting in in this century is hard. Even the definition of what parenting is has me a bit confused on days (I have been trying to create a working definition for my research and it is a kerfuffle). But I don't need to go to the internet to tell me that parenting is hard. I have kids. They let me know every day that there is a lot of work involved in this precious work of developing souls into the people they are meant to be. As I have been searching through the historical literacies to contemporary blogs looking for where mom's are instilling morals in their wee ones, I realize that being a moral mother is a daily battle.
At the end of the day, I am a Bible-based parent trying to be a Christian woman. I think that encompasses as much moral guidance as I can muster for three kids and a lifetime of guilt for not having done it good enough.
There has been as storm of mental hurricanes swirling around my head since Sunday. It all started with the candid conversations with Viv.
It had been a rough week. The kids were out of school for fall break Thurs-Monday. That meant a reintroduction to the types of energy cocktails we have in our little people. Things can get a bit rocky and as a parent, we sometimes get a bit too reactionary.
Here is the document that evolved out of it all by Thursday night:
I look at it now and think - maybe a bit harsh. But when you are dealing with a really, uh.....special child, things are harsh. Friday I went to parent teacher conferences to see if Josh and I were just seeing everything through a tainted class. Yes, Viv is highly distractible and has some rough social patches at school, but everyone is super optimistic. I got a bit of perspective about how she is working at school. Basically the same things at home, she just has a more structured (?) or better (!) environment at school that makes her feel successful. I am so glad!! That is all we want for her as parents is for her to successfully figure out the labyrinth of her brain so that her life is successful.
With Friday's perspective, and help from my sister with Saturday's events (well all tend to push problems aside when family is visiting), we made it through with out any major issues. After some long naps on Sunday we all sat down for some heart warming eats. Josh took the more calm environment to have little introspective talk with Viv when the other kids were finished (Viv is always the last to finish because she gets distracted even when eating food).
Josh opened the conversation with:
"I know we had a few rough days back there. Is there anything you want to ask me about the new expectations?"
Viv: "Why do I have to have consequences?"
Josh gave me a calming glance that had "Chill out, I've got this" written all over it. He knew I was still pretty heated about things and often feel that her questions are a bit, well, manipulated or manufactured. He can often give a more genuine approach to things.
Josh: "Why do you thing we have consequences?" Ah yes, use the best of the communication tactics available from "How to Talk so Kids will Listen & Listen So Kids will Talk."
After appropriate stall for a bite of food and dramatic draw of attention, Viv: "Because that is how we learn?"
Sounds reminiscent of a lesson we may have had a thousand million times. Josh illustrates with the available fork why it is good to learn from consequence instead of continually stabbing yourself in the hand over and over again with the pointed prongs of unwise choices.
Viv: "But I don't like consequences."
Josh: "That's why we have them. Would you ever learn anything new if you knew you could get ice cream by just doing the same thing all the time?"
Viv, with a unwanting air to admit it; "I guess not. I should learn."
Their conversation continued a bit longer with some semi-satisfying results and Josh ends his portion of the discussion with a giant squeezing hug telling Viv how much he loves her and how much she believes in her ('reprove betimes with sharpness and show an increase of love after"+ practicing what he is reading in "Building Confidence in your Child" + Josh's amazing ability to forgive and forget until the next infraction). Josh then nods over her tiny shoulder toward me, the muted observer that I should follow suit and frankly forgive her for the past 4 days of emotional turmoil and confidence destroying tactics that she and I have jointly gone through. Viv suspects that the pregnant pause also means it is now Mommy's turn to chime in on the subject. I gather up all my mothering instincts to be the bigger person, and surrender them to my personal wounds:
Me: "Viv, I have a question. Why should I have to forgive you over and over again when you show no signs of really repenting?"
With a slight tilt of the head and her biggest brown eyed practiced innocence, "Because you love me.?" Her answer was a statement, yet when she saw the skeptical response in my face she retracted her confident body language back into a question, showing me that I was supposed to explain it to her. Josh's eyes also lazer-beamed a grown up look into my person, probably trying to awaken that grown-up I had shoved out of the way earlier.
"God loves all His children, but He can't bless them until they repent."
It was a semi-textual example of how the Bible can truly be used for situational advantage.
In truth, I don't remember where the rest of the conversation went with Viv because I got side-tracked with the fact that I may have just twisted doctrine to suit my preferences. In my personal conviction of religious perspective I really try to keep a textual connectedness to all principles taught from scripture and abhor the extracted use of words for isolated benefit. But when it comes to examples of parenting through the scriptures, it gets rather confusing.
God's adjust for each of His children through time. There is the vindictive role of God in the Old Testament who punishes with candor. Yet, the moments of tender instruction to His prophets illuminates the willing forgiveness on the edge of the clouds for all of Abraham's seed, His chosen people. It makes like children of Israel look like real idiots when they can't get their act together and just get out of the wilderness. And what about the God of deliverance that helps poor Joseph rise from the bottom of the pits and prison to rule over all Egypt? The lesson is that parenting is situational. Or is the lesson that some kids are just better than others so it is easier to bless them?
Within the last years I read a inspiring parenting help book entitled "5 Spiritual Solutions for Everyday Parenting Challenges" by Richard and Linda Eyre, the founders of Joy Schools. Their second suggested solution is "Remember God's Parenting Patterns." They pull 15 patterns out of the scriptural accounts of God's dealing with His children. Some resonate more prolifically with my own nature:
3. God gives clear, simple laws with will-announced consequences, rewards, and punishments.
8. God has a plan of happiness for His children
15. God makes family central to all and the core of His purpose.
And some just seem a bit non-applicable:
11. God sent His eldest son to help and save us.
12. God sends angels.
Others are still in the works for me personally, and obviously stumbling blocks for my relationship with Viv in particular:
1. God grants us complete, unconditional love.
4. God allows His children the chance to repent.
5 God taught us and trained us and held us close throughout the premortal life, and then He gave us choices and let us go.
13. God finds joy in His children and in His relationship with them.
Graciously, God is my Father, and is perfect in those points of parenting I struggle with.
2. God sees (and treats) each child as a unique and eternal individual.
In other words, I needn't worry if Viv is one who needs washed out in a flood or lifted from the ashes, I need to work with the individual she is and figure out how to get a bit closer to God so He can help me with her. In my calm moments, I can see that and feel that. It is in the more mortal moments that I loose my footing. The best lesson in forgiveness will be in trusting that the Lord will forgive me for those moments I really messed it up with Viv. She already forgives me. That is humbling. Because I love her, and I really really do, I will forgive and learn, too. In parenting, we must always remember that we are just as much a child in God's eyes.
At the end of the day, I am a Bible-based parent trying to be a Christian woman. I think that encompasses as much moral guidance as I can muster for three kids and a lifetime of guilt for not having done it good enough.
There has been as storm of mental hurricanes swirling around my head since Sunday. It all started with the candid conversations with Viv.
It had been a rough week. The kids were out of school for fall break Thurs-Monday. That meant a reintroduction to the types of energy cocktails we have in our little people. Things can get a bit rocky and as a parent, we sometimes get a bit too reactionary.
Here is the document that evolved out of it all by Thursday night:
Unacceptable behaviors:
1- Lying
2- Disrespecting anyone in the family
3- Refusing to talking during ‘conversations
4- Willful disobeying
Told us:
-everyone at home makes her mad/frustrated
-she doesn’t like/love Mother or Father
-likes her teachers more so that is why she is better at school
-Doesn’t ever want to have conversations
-when asked why she said “Oh my God!” during play, she first said her Dad says it (which we never take the name of the Lord in vain) and then refused to say where she had heard or learned the term, she is aware that cussing is unacceptable behavior
- says she hits her sister Faith because “she won’t ever listen to me”
- Viv will not self-entertain and when engaging with siblings (her only option at home) has to be in the position of authority, dictating the game, or pestering them to get the attention she wants
- she always answers her teachers immediately and truthfully
We Told her:
-Based on the information we received from school evaluations (PTC)it is clear to us that her behaviors are choices based on audience (home vs. school) and our expectation is equal treatment, at least, in the home
- Because we love her, we will base our parenting on her potential not her current behaviors i.e. we believe she will succeed in life if she eradicates unacceptable behaviors so we are willing to do whatever it takes to help her get rid of them now, including spankings (which is standard with the other children)
- Made it clear that our treatment of her will be no different than her siblings because she is not any different, which will change some of our reactions to her whereas we have given her more options or chances for behavioral change she will now have the same expectations as the other two (comply or consequence)
Catalyst Day (Thursday October 24, 2013):
After many days of counseling as a family, as a couple, and introspection as parents we recognized recurring patterns: All behaviors with Mom were either decidedly defiant and oppositional or manipulatively sweet it draw attention away from other siblings and interactions with Dad were to ‘win him over’. On a day out of school the behaviors were so pronounced at home that we felt it necessary to make immediate changes. We always show a unified front in all decisions made regarding what parenting choices we are making for her, even though now she has made a stand that she is not making any choices with us. As Parents: we are trying to inform before any consequence occurs so they do not seem as unruly punishments but direct result of behaviors. We have decided that she will no longer be given the option/consequence of going to her bed because it has become apparent that she prefers not to have to deal with the issue at hand and seeks to be sent to her bed as soon as possible to avoid processing and hopes the delay will redirect the consequence.
I look at it now and think - maybe a bit harsh. But when you are dealing with a really, uh.....special child, things are harsh. Friday I went to parent teacher conferences to see if Josh and I were just seeing everything through a tainted class. Yes, Viv is highly distractible and has some rough social patches at school, but everyone is super optimistic. I got a bit of perspective about how she is working at school. Basically the same things at home, she just has a more structured (?) or better (!) environment at school that makes her feel successful. I am so glad!! That is all we want for her as parents is for her to successfully figure out the labyrinth of her brain so that her life is successful.
With Friday's perspective, and help from my sister with Saturday's events (well all tend to push problems aside when family is visiting), we made it through with out any major issues. After some long naps on Sunday we all sat down for some heart warming eats. Josh took the more calm environment to have little introspective talk with Viv when the other kids were finished (Viv is always the last to finish because she gets distracted even when eating food).
Josh opened the conversation with:
"I know we had a few rough days back there. Is there anything you want to ask me about the new expectations?"
Viv: "Why do I have to have consequences?"
Josh gave me a calming glance that had "Chill out, I've got this" written all over it. He knew I was still pretty heated about things and often feel that her questions are a bit, well, manipulated or manufactured. He can often give a more genuine approach to things.
Josh: "Why do you thing we have consequences?" Ah yes, use the best of the communication tactics available from "How to Talk so Kids will Listen & Listen So Kids will Talk."
After appropriate stall for a bite of food and dramatic draw of attention, Viv: "Because that is how we learn?"
Sounds reminiscent of a lesson we may have had a thousand million times. Josh illustrates with the available fork why it is good to learn from consequence instead of continually stabbing yourself in the hand over and over again with the pointed prongs of unwise choices.
Viv: "But I don't like consequences."
Josh: "That's why we have them. Would you ever learn anything new if you knew you could get ice cream by just doing the same thing all the time?"
Viv, with a unwanting air to admit it; "I guess not. I should learn."
Their conversation continued a bit longer with some semi-satisfying results and Josh ends his portion of the discussion with a giant squeezing hug telling Viv how much he loves her and how much she believes in her ('reprove betimes with sharpness and show an increase of love after"+ practicing what he is reading in "Building Confidence in your Child" + Josh's amazing ability to forgive and forget until the next infraction). Josh then nods over her tiny shoulder toward me, the muted observer that I should follow suit and frankly forgive her for the past 4 days of emotional turmoil and confidence destroying tactics that she and I have jointly gone through. Viv suspects that the pregnant pause also means it is now Mommy's turn to chime in on the subject. I gather up all my mothering instincts to be the bigger person, and surrender them to my personal wounds:
Me: "Viv, I have a question. Why should I have to forgive you over and over again when you show no signs of really repenting?"
With a slight tilt of the head and her biggest brown eyed practiced innocence, "Because you love me.?" Her answer was a statement, yet when she saw the skeptical response in my face she retracted her confident body language back into a question, showing me that I was supposed to explain it to her. Josh's eyes also lazer-beamed a grown up look into my person, probably trying to awaken that grown-up I had shoved out of the way earlier.
"God loves all His children, but He can't bless them until they repent."
It was a semi-textual example of how the Bible can truly be used for situational advantage.
In truth, I don't remember where the rest of the conversation went with Viv because I got side-tracked with the fact that I may have just twisted doctrine to suit my preferences. In my personal conviction of religious perspective I really try to keep a textual connectedness to all principles taught from scripture and abhor the extracted use of words for isolated benefit. But when it comes to examples of parenting through the scriptures, it gets rather confusing.
God's adjust for each of His children through time. There is the vindictive role of God in the Old Testament who punishes with candor. Yet, the moments of tender instruction to His prophets illuminates the willing forgiveness on the edge of the clouds for all of Abraham's seed, His chosen people. It makes like children of Israel look like real idiots when they can't get their act together and just get out of the wilderness. And what about the God of deliverance that helps poor Joseph rise from the bottom of the pits and prison to rule over all Egypt? The lesson is that parenting is situational. Or is the lesson that some kids are just better than others so it is easier to bless them?
Within the last years I read a inspiring parenting help book entitled "5 Spiritual Solutions for Everyday Parenting Challenges" by Richard and Linda Eyre, the founders of Joy Schools. Their second suggested solution is "Remember God's Parenting Patterns." They pull 15 patterns out of the scriptural accounts of God's dealing with His children. Some resonate more prolifically with my own nature:
3. God gives clear, simple laws with will-announced consequences, rewards, and punishments.
8. God has a plan of happiness for His children
15. God makes family central to all and the core of His purpose.
And some just seem a bit non-applicable:
11. God sent His eldest son to help and save us.
12. God sends angels.
Others are still in the works for me personally, and obviously stumbling blocks for my relationship with Viv in particular:
1. God grants us complete, unconditional love.
4. God allows His children the chance to repent.
5 God taught us and trained us and held us close throughout the premortal life, and then He gave us choices and let us go.
13. God finds joy in His children and in His relationship with them.
Graciously, God is my Father, and is perfect in those points of parenting I struggle with.
2. God sees (and treats) each child as a unique and eternal individual.
In other words, I needn't worry if Viv is one who needs washed out in a flood or lifted from the ashes, I need to work with the individual she is and figure out how to get a bit closer to God so He can help me with her. In my calm moments, I can see that and feel that. It is in the more mortal moments that I loose my footing. The best lesson in forgiveness will be in trusting that the Lord will forgive me for those moments I really messed it up with Viv. She already forgives me. That is humbling. Because I love her, and I really really do, I will forgive and learn, too. In parenting, we must always remember that we are just as much a child in God's eyes.
 |
| Yeah, she's cute and she know's it. Lil stinker |
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