Dear Homeschool Mom

Dear Homeschool Mom (who’s redeemed by the blood of the Lamb) ,

Another school year has come to a close (though for many of you–us–it goes on).  You’ve done a mostly thankless job, and it’s been hard–and good.  You’ve enjoyed your kids, deeply grateful to have spent another year with them.  And you’ve wanted to get rid of them (maybe boarding school is ok, after all).  You’ve kept an orderly house, and a messy one.  You’ve done math lessons and taken breaks from math, sure that it’ll be your undoing.  You’ve woken up in the morning, gotten dressed, done important, educational things, and no one noticed.  You’ve overslept, started the day already behind in your work, gotten through the day only by the grace of God.  And no one noticed.

Except that Someone did. 

God noticed and cared when you felt exhilarated that your child finally understands long division.  He understood when you got behind on laundry, couldn’t get a shower, missed your quiet time, walked around feeling sorry for yourself (Why can’t I wear pretty clothes and grab Starbucks on the way to my shiny, important job).  He loved you when you yelled at your son for wasting your precious time.  He loved you when you created the perfect educational moment and felt like a pro.  When your kids saw you walking in the flesh, and you were ugly, and you came to them and I’m sorry, He loved you.  When you missed a teachable moment because you were too busy worrying about what someone said on Facebook, He had mercy.  When someone asked you an insensitive question about your educational choices, and you answered nicely, He loved you.  When you rolled your eyes and fumed at the limitless stupidity of Some People, He loved you just the same.

You were held every minute of this school year.  You were in his grip of grace.  You were (and are) a sinner saved (!)–and grace is what’s gotten you through.  Your work is important regardless of who notices, or who cares.  It’s important to God.  But He loves you because of His Son, not because of your work, as important as it is.  You are not your work, though it’s tempting to believe you are Teacher-Mom and no one else.  You are a citizen of a different kingdom.  Your identity is hidden in Christ.

So go swim, or watch your kids swim and read a magazine, instead.  Do math.  Or don’t.  Live your imperfect life and love your kids (even when you don’t).  Be who you are, knowing that the goal is to look more like Jesus.  And chill.  Because He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.  And that goes for your kids, too.

You are not your job.  But for what it’s worth, here’s a pat on the back from me.

 

Link

What is Love?

Greater love has no man than this, that he lay his life down for his friend.

A Valentine with Skin

My mother was born on Valentine’s Day,  a little cupid who would grow up and have daughters of her own.  She would demonstrate love by dumping extra frozen vegetables in the Crock Pot, by curling our bangs to 80′s perfection, by reading ‘Old Grumpy’ and ‘Little House’ before bed, by offering us huge chunks of cheese and economy-size spoonfuls of crunchy peanut butter because “you girls need a little protein.”  A work-outside-the-home mom, she said I love you by doing laundry at 11:00 p.m. so we’d have clean jeans, taught at our school so we’d always have an advocate.  She introduced us to black and white movies, musicals, soul seasoning for our popcorn, and Pace Picante Sauce.

This Valentine baby continues to show us love in the most practical of ways.  Last night she met our new puppy.  She sat in the floor and stroked her fur (which was Mom’s way of telling me she loves me) and murmured soothing nonsense.  And then, in true mom form, she said, “I’m going to go get her a bed.  No, no.  I want to.  It’s a grandmother thing to do and this is my grand-dog.”  It was late and she’d worked a full day but she headed to Wal-Mart just the same.

Our dog loved her bed.

Our mother gives Valentines you didn’t know you needed.  And you’re better for having received them.  She believes love is action.

Happy Birthday, Mom.  You are one of a kind.  Your life is a Valentine to the world.

Goodbye, Shanti, and Good Girl

It’s been a long time since I’ve written.  The old year flew by and the new one ripped through my life with a speed that has left me breathless.  And if everything is going ok, it’s alright not to write.  I can handle the thoughts in my head as they jockey for prime real estate at the front of my consciousness.

But things are not alright.

Yesterday, at 3:30 p.m. our dog, Shanti, was hit by a speeding car and killed instantly.  This was the puppy who chewed everything, the one who drove us crazy, the one who made herself at home in our hearts.  This was the one we tried to give away, foolishly ignoring the hold she had on our hearts.  And this is the one who spent all of two hours at the animal shelter before we caved in on ourselves, speeding in our little red truck to make it to take her back in time.

This was the puppy who forced my husband out of a gray, pernicious depression–a formless void with no name and endless symptoms.  As he fed her each morning, as she watched him make the coffee from her crate, before anyone else was awake, she drew him out of his mind and into the world.  She was the one who had chosen him as her own.  She, whose tail wagged her body when she saw his truck pull in the driveway, reminded him of everything good.  This was the one who looked him in the eyes with amber affection, holding his gaze without blinking or barking or licking.  She was his anti-depressant, specially formulated to be his friend.

And we all knew it.

He had slowly started to feel better.  Oh there were days, of course.  Days where he wanted to hop a plane to anywhere-but-here.  But those days were breaking up, becoming fewer.  He was doing well.  We heard him laugh, the kids and I, as we played in the yard with Shanti.  And maybe somehow, in some inscrutable way, it was time for her to move on.

Because yesterday at 3:30 p.m. she did.

The impact was so great that we know she felt nothing.  Husband called me from work, his voice incredulous.  Someone had witnessed the accident and had let him know:  Shanti was gone.  I put down the phone, sobbing, and told the kids to stay in the house, that Shanti was gone and I needed to find her.  They knew she was dead.

I rounded the hill and made my way down to the mailbox at the bottom of the driveway.  I was shaking from the cold, and from the metallic fear that she was indeed dead, that it was not some unfortunate mistake.  Or worse, that she was half-dead and then what would I do?  At first I didn’t see her.  I looked left and right.  Please God, please God, please…Cars zoomed past me at lightening speed, pulling me toward them.

And then I did see her lying by the side of the road like she was taking a nap.  She looked small and round.  I strangled her name out of my throat but she remained motionless.  I moved closer, my legs rebelling against the manic protests of my mind.  I looked into those amber eyes.  They were open but they were not hers.  She was gone.

Husband carried Shanti in a wheelbarrow to a place behind one of the trees she used to like.  He dug a hole, gently picked her up, whispered a broken thank-you, and placed her in her grave.  He cried as he told her she had accomplished her mission–that God must be pleased with her, that she had rescued him exactly according to plan.  He told her he was sorry he had been unable to keep that car from hitting her, that he had always tried to protect her, that he knew she was ok now, that he would miss her terribly.  He covered her with dirt, her broken collar beside her.  Then he placed two stones on her grave and walked into the woods behind our house to be alone.

That’s where I met him.  His eyes were panicky and bloodshot.  He was wordless but I knew what he meant to say.  We stood outside and we mourned together, for another change, another goodbye, another friend we can never reach out and touch.  We cried for our children and we cried for ourselves.  We cried for our dog, for her lifelessness before the age of one.  How funny, how ridiculously absurd that this dog had managed to do this to our hearts.  How did it happen?  We had no answer but it didn’t matter now.  It had happened and we were changed.

And now she’s gone.  She’s not in her crate this afternoon.  She’s in the earth with two stones on top of her.  We heard her scratching to get in the door this morning but we were mistaken.

And that’s why I’m writing.  I’m writing because I need to say goodbye and it’s the only way I know how.

Thank you, Shanti, for helping us to survive America.  Thank you for whining to go potty, forcing us to take you outside when we wanted to do nothing but sleep for 100 years.  Thank you for needing a brush, dog food, toys, and a leash when we were worried about money.  Thank you for nipping our kids and pestering them so that they are not afraid of dogs anymore but will reach out and pet all the different kinds at the dog park.  Thank you for needing to run so that we met new people and were able to share our story.  Thank you for thrilling us with your ability to sit, shake, lie down, and roll over.  Thank you for a wonderful first Christmas back in the States.  Thank you for making us think of someone besides ourselves.

Good girl, Shanti.  Mission accomplished.  Until we meet again.

A Year in Books

I do this every year’s end.  I list the books I’ve read as a way to “see” the previous 12 months of my life.  Sometimes they’re massive lists (like when I lived in India and reading was nearly everything to me).  Sometimes they’re skinny lists (like this year, as I’ve undertaken new job responsibilities and re-adjusted to my home culture).  At any rate it wouldn’t be the end of the year for me without my list, humble though it may be.  I do not recommend every book on this year’s list.  Some are only so-so in style and substance, and a couple are scandalous and stupid.  Most are well worth the time I spent reading them, however.  (This list does not include the books of the Bible I’ve read through this year.  That’s another list altogether).  If you have questions about any of the books you see, let me know and I’ll review them.  And now the list, in the order I read each book.

1. Don Quixote, Miguel de Cervantes
2. On the Road, Jack Kerouac
3. Lady Chatterly’s Lover, D.H. Lawrence
4. Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck
5. 100 Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
6. Give Them Grace, Elyse M. Fitzpatrick
7. Just Do Something, Kevin DeYoung
8. Thinking, Loving, Doing, John Piper, Dave Mathis, eds.
9. How Children Fail, John Holt
10. God in the Dock, C.S. Lewis
11. Classical Education Made Approachable, (author not specified)
12. Expectations and Burnout:  Women Surviving the Great Commission, Sue Eenigenburg and Robin Bliss
13. How the Garcia Sisters Lost Their Accents, Julia Alvarez
14. How to Read a Book, Mortimer Adler (still working on this one!)
15. This Is Your Brain On Joy,  Dr. Earl Henslin
16. The Cult Explosion, Dave Hunt
17. Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis
18. In the Land of Blue Burqas, Kate McCord
19. Life of Pi, Yann Martel

To read an interview I gave about books and reading for the Daily News:

http://www.bgdailynews.com/features/sunday_reader/a-look-at-what-hannah-vanderpool-is-reading/article_0c1ff35c-407e-11e2-83ec-001a4bcf887a.html

What about you?  What did you read this year?  Do have any suggestions for me?

Of Fear and Focus

I won’t lie.  I join a lot of Americans (one out of every two if the data is correct) in worrying for our country’s future.  I spent the last three years living in a place where the government is largely corrupt, where paying bribes and knowing the right people is the way to get things done, where the indigent stay that way, though there are plenty of natural resources to be utilized.  And all those years I kept telling myself that it’s OK because there is a place where things are different.  Oh sure, it isn’t perfect, this place.  In fact, it’s getting worse.  But I reminded myself that there is still hope.  That it’s still the place people want to be because there they can be free.

I don’t feel that way anymore.

I’m back in the US and I’m worried.  I try not to be because, most of all, I’m a believer in Jesus Christ, who overcame the world when he did not stay dead.  But I’m an earthen vessel, you know?  And I catch myself fearing for my children’s future even as I exhort them to live without fear.  Early this morning, in fact, ugly national scenarios worked their way into my dreams and I awoke, heart racing, breath shallow.

If living in Asia has taught me one thing, if He has taught me one thing, it is to run to Him when I am afraid.  Today I sat in my bed, still warm from this morning.  I pulled the covers up around me, cracked open my mammoth ESV study Bible, and began to read.  All of the books I’m reading emphasize different aspects of God’s character, or highlight different periods in history, but today a bigger picture began to form in my mind.  Some thoughts…

Exodus 32:  God’s people miss Moses.  He has gone away to be with God for several days and they can’t wait for him to return and lead them.  As a result, even though God has done so much for them, they decide to create a golden calf to replace Him–an image before whom they can fall down and offer up praise in return for protection.  After all, they reason, Moses is gone, and how can they be expected to wait?  It’s just not reasonable.  But this thinking ends in tragedy.

Lesson:  People need to worship–someone or something.  If they reject God, for one reason or another, they will find a replacement for Him.  It has always been this way and it always will be, until the Lord returns and makes all things new.  Question for me:  Who or what am I worshiping today?

Psalm 49:  Every person will die.  The most powerful, the weakest, and everyone in-between, will see the grave one day.  No one can hold on to his life forever.  We kid ourselves when we feel invincible.  But also, we give other people too much power over our thoughts and emotions when we see them as bigger and more consequential than they actually are.  The Lord knows those who belong to Him.  He watches over them and will preserve them–even after death.

Why should I fear in times of trouble,
when the iniquity of those who cheat me surrounds me…?

Truly no man can ransom another, or give to God the price of his life…                          Man in his pomp will not remain;  he is like the beasts that perish.

But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol, for he will receive me...      (emphasis mine)

Lesson:  Hope, placed in an idea, institution, or person, is no hope at all.  Hope in God.  He is the One who can ransom your life, and mine, from the grave.  Question for me:  Am I hoping in the only One who can rescue me, or in someone else?

2 Kings 22:  The Israelites have abandoned God.  They have disobeyed him time and time again.  One day, they rediscover the Book of the Law.  When the priests read it, they tear their clothes in horror.  They realize how far they’ve slipped from obeying the Holy One and now the wrath of the Lord will surely come upon them as a result.  King Josiah begs, on behalf of the people, for God to turn away his wrath.  God answers that He will respond mercifully to a humble and penitent heart.  He desires to redeem.  So, while He will visit punishment on the nation as a whole, He will spare Josiah the agony of seeing it because Josiah longs to follow the Lord.

Lesson:  Nations rise and nations fall.  God will not be mocked and his Word will stand.  He is merciful and loving, however, and has made a way for those who desire Him to come to Him and to be made right.  The Way’s name is Jesus.  We do not know what is in store for our particular country (obviously, we are not ancient Israel).  God has not made a special covenant with our country.  He has not promised us undying peace and prosperity as a nation.  But He is slow to anger and rich in love.  Today is the day to call upon Him.  There will be a day when it is too late.  Wrath is coming, not only to the US, but to the whole world.  If you haven’t already, humble yourself before the Lord and put your faith in Jesus Christ while it is still today.  Question for me:  Whose kingdom, God’s or the world’s, is the most real for me today?

Psalm 149:  The psalmist encourages the people of the Lord to sing to Him.  They have a reason to be glad.

For the Lord takes pleasure in his people; he adorns the humble with salvation.           Let the godly exult in glory;                                                                                                 let them sing for joy on their beds. (emphasis mine)

Lesson:  The Lord’s people are exhorted to praise Him.  Those who are humble before Him will receive salvation.  (It is our pride, our trust in ourselves, or our government, or our institutions, or our families that keeps us from kneeling before Him in humility).  He saves those who recognize that they cannot save themselves, that they need a Savior.  The Lord does not begrudgingly reach out a hand to humble sinners.  He takes pleasure in doing good to those who love Him.  Question for me:  Will I sing, even in my bed, because of what He has done for me?

This is not the last time I’ll battle fear and a vague sense of doom.  But I will not succumb to it.  Not because I’m strong, not because I have everything figured out, but because I know Who holds my future.

A Post About Something Other Than the Election

Many of you know that Husband (known to his students as Mr. V) teaches English as a second language to (mostly) refugees.  He deals with students who know no English when they enter his classroom.  Some of them have had no prior education at all.  So it’s, you know, not the easiest job in the world, but it’s never dull.  Not for one blessed minute.
Today Husband asked his students to write about him using their very best adjectives.  Then he brought their papers home to read to me.  Sometimes it’s good to see yourself through someone else’s eyes–even if that person’s spelling is very, very bad.  Here are some of Husband’s students’ thoughts about him.

Abdul:

Mr. V is long and huge body!  It white and Blond hair.  Is a man and Handsome.  The wearing of clothing striped Shirts and gray trousers and brow shoes.

Steven:

Mr. V is nice teacher  We love him because. He is good for student He is smart teacher  He is Strong  He tall and big  sometime He is funny  He have two son and one daughter

Ciza:

1. He’s Funny
2. He’s Friendly
3. He’s wearing brack sweater.
4. He’s big
5. He’s tall
6. He’s 35 years old
7. He’s married
8. He’s etc.

Maria:

About Mr. V:

Mr. V. is:  To Tall, fat, White, nice face

he wear:  a blue Sweater, a brown shoos, and a gray pants.

like, Short hair, To big, black wach.

Beatriz:

Mr. V. everyday is happy, have a smile pretty. have eyes color green, have hair color brown, is funny, He nice.  Mr. V. is tall skinny.  Mr. V is my teacher!  Mr. V. is of color Whaite.

Yoandri:

My teacher Mr. V. is height, is white you hair is yellow, is big, is strong is veri good is perfec.  You shoes is brown pend gray, you chaquet is blu.  Mr. V. is good.

Brayan:

1. My teacher is white.
2. My teacher is Big
3. My teacher wears brow shoes
4. My teacher wears grey pant
5. My teacher wears black watch
6. My teacher is smoll

And there you have it, folks.  I pretty much agree with all of the above.