So it’s been two weeks since my last real post and they have been busy ones. Since our Christmas break was extended significantly due to a psycho cold, we have spent the last week condensing two weeks of school material into one week. Doable, but tiring. My brain is absolutely full to the brim with thoughts, too many to adequately sift through and create coherent posts for each one, which means…bullet points!
- I am completely amazed and in awe of God’s creation. Studying the human body (Core 5 Science) and God’s creation (Firm Foundations), has left almost speechless. How clearly He has displayed His power through what He has created.
- I am almost positively convinced that every year about this time, I should set aside 3-4 weeks to withdraw from everything, except church activities and my son’s baseball games, to focus on getting my house in order. OK, I am hopeful that they first year would be the only year that it would need to be that much time, but I don’t know. When my house is cluttered (which it is now!!) it is difficult to keep clean. And when the house isn’t clean, it is so annoying to have to leave it and do other necessary things.
- There is truly a difference in rigidly structuring my home and flexibly structuring my home. Remember these pictures:
And the other one is rolled up on a shelf in the basement. They were both way to rigid. We now use a simple list of things that are essential and must be completed each day. As they are completed, they are crossed off. It has worked much better than the time block schedules.
- Consistent, measurable growth in my spiritual walk, only comes as I consistently spend time in the Word. Period. And no, I don’t mean that it produces measurable changes that I can mark daily, but I think that yearly is a good way to “take stock”. Spiritual growth without the Word is i.m.p.o.s.s.i.b.l.e.
- Time is too precious to waste on dumb things. And there are a ton of things that fall into that category. One that readily springs to my mind is any amount of worry over something that I cannot change. As with everything (and I am *not* happy or pleased to say this), my first reaction to worry/anxiety is the same as it is with every other negative emotion, anger. And that benefits no one. Not me, not my husband, not my kids, not my friends. So I am making the concerted effort to quell those anxious feelings and simply let it go. I can’t change it anyway.
- Politics make me snarky. And a snarky Annemarie is not always a Christ-honoring Annemarie. So, in view of the fact that lasting change will never occur through political change, I am striving to stay out of such debates. Not always successful with that.
- Whenever I am faced with the certainty that something is not permanent, I have begun to notice that I try to separate myself from it. For instance, I recently confided to a friend who was thinking about moving, that when I had found that out I could tell that I started to distance myself from her. Of course, I realize that I do that because I hate dealing with the emotional pain of separation. Doesn’t everybody? But I have also noticed that one way this manifests itself in my life, is that I am constantly “talking down” the stages that my kids go through. Case in point, toddlerhood. Instead on cherishing the wonderful things about this stage, and loudly proclaiming that Boy Number 2 is positively charming and his antics are 99.9% endearing, I choose to verbally focusing on the difficult aspects of this stage. I see that I do this in hopes that leaving this wonderful time of life will be less painful. It won’t and intend to stop this stupid behavior.
- Some of my thoughts and ponderings would positively shock people. Not in a sinful way, but in a way that is not Christian culturally acceptable.
That’s enough for now. 🙂 We received our Sonlight order yesterday and so now I am adding to my long list of things, gearing up for our next school year. Good thing I love planning!
I love this poem. The last stanza wanders through my thoughts frequently.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.