On Summer Nights When Adults Are Tempted to Play Hooky Too

September's twilight creeps green and orange in chill night air. Yellow and pink zinnia flowers stand tall beside rosy sedum.

Smoky woodfires scented the end of a kids' park play date, and now children's voices chirp loudly from trees. They leap, waving sticks, leaning close to growl make-believe battles.

My son races inside to grab a late supper. "Can I take my food outside, Mom?" he asks, wisping blonde hair cut close. "My friends have eaten already."

"Sure, buddy. Careful, this part of the plate is hot." I set his saucer on the front stoop, and watch him balance lemonade and cheesy enchiladas.

Summer has surrendered and fall has flown in! Sharpened pencils, notebooks, and mounding schoolbooks stack precarious in one corner of the dining room table.

And even though I'm the teacher, I admit it. I'm tempted to play hooky. Summer swim dates at the YMCA pool, gardening pleasures, and a slower pace still call me. As a mom and teacher, I'd love to hide away the schoolbooks and schedules, linger long over morning coffee tomorrow, and walk barefoot through wet grass to the swing instead.

Photo Credit: Flickr user John Benson, Creative Commons cc license

You too?

But instead, I'll get an early night's sleep, brew a tall French press coffee, and pull up chairs with my fourth grader tomorrow.

My tall nineteen year old daughter is back in college; grown-man-son and his wife have graduated college and now both work full-days nearby. Youngest son scales trees and joins me most days at the table for fourth grade now, and my husband and I are trying to model this grown up life. Soaking in Jesus, thanking him for life and joys each day, we strive to be brave and watchful and responsible.

Being an adult is much like jogging, I'm learning. Both require the hard work of showing up and laughing at the effort needed some days. For me there is lots of self-talk, mixed with thanking God for breath, life, and his presence.

Crickets in dark sky and black tree branches announce nightfall. The front door squeaks as Daniel comes in, closing up for the night. Grabbing last minute second-suppers, he readies for bed.

I vaguely remember truth from yesterday and stand to riffle through stacked books on the table to find it. Then, there, I see it. Scrawled black gel pen copy words from God's ancient book: "Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." And I'm still learning what that means, but it helps me greet September, and school days, and the coming year with fresh eyes.

Join me? What are you learning and thinking about this month?

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On their First Days Back to School

Photo: cx33000, Flickr user, Creative Commons cc license

An imperceptible noise wakes me and I turn. Red digital numbers gleam 6:44 am and I am grateful, Thanks for waking me up, God. I slip quietly out of bed, wanting to hug and pray for John on his first day back to school.

Yellow kitchen light washes streaks across a dark living room carpet, and I can hear John around the corner.

"Hi," I grin sleepily and hug him, my eyes still creased against the brightness. Tall, broad-shouldered, my twenty year old is packing a lunch. Bagging baby carrots, a ham and wheat sandwich, and looking around for chips, he already has a plastic container of yesterday's fried rice.

"I'll be at school all day today," he says, closing the bread bag.

"There are apples," I murmur.

While he is gathering his lunch, I pray aloud for him, asking God to give him safety in rush hour roads, energy and excitement for his college classes, connections with his professors, and a good year of learning. He stops and smiles, "Mmm, thanks, Mom."

We hug and move to the front stairway entry where he loads his backpack.

"Oh hey, here is a red notebook for you!" I scramble away for a moment, returning with a simple single subject notebook, a traditional gift for my kids each year when they used to journal often. "It's your favorite color."

"Thanks," he grins, flipping it open. "Um..." and he shows me. An assembly error has stapled all the pages upside down. We laugh, and John grabs his bag.

"Have a great day," I say, sitting small on the steps above him. "I'm proud of you for getting up early for your classes, for getting a lunch, and being so organized. You got this! You can do this."

"Thanks, Mom," he says, and he opens his heart up more on his way out the door, and I am so thankful for this morning of seeing him off.

Thanks, God, for waking me up. What a gift.

Transforming Homework Sessions into Home Memories

Wind chimes clang in the ten degree weather, and students everywhere unload textbooks and notebooks across kitchen tables, or toss heavy backpacks onto worn couches.

Artist Hilda Robinson, "Studying at the Table"

What transforms homework sessions into home memories? 

It's the x-factor, that unknown variable that finagles its way into each afternoon. Whether its mixed formulas in Algebra or seismology from Physical Science, there is always a potential for life to be shaken right up, huh?

Class homework seems to be an afterschool event in most families. How do we create happy family environments and memories while flipping pages, erasing problems gone wrong, and keeping everyone on task?

Cutting into gooey caramel-chocolate cupcakes, my teen daughter and I wrote out algebra problems side-by-side on the sunny kitchen table today. I sipped hot coffee and we looked together at the problems she had misunderstood earlier.

"Oh, I see it. I know what I did wrong," she exclaimed, circling a forgotten negative sign. We moved on to other problems, cracking jokes, getting drinks of water, and talking with others in the room.

After one too many interruptions, I became agitated and brusquely brought us back on track. "Okay, let's focus now," I said, sterner than I needed to.

"Mom, we're fine. It's okay. I'm working," assured Morgan.

I paused and remembered. Laughter, calm, and intentionality make the difference. We both visibly relaxed, sinking deeper into our chairs in the sunlight, working quietly on math problems together. Quiet saxophone music played from a corner of the kitchen.

Later Daniel and I read books together, noticing rhyming sounds, commenting on watercolor illustrations, and learning about bats and shadows. We made paper cut outs for shadows, and cast long pictures across the living room floor, before ducking into the bathroom with a flashlight too. Shadow bats, cats, and snowmen wavered in the light, dancing in his hands.

"See how any shadow picture needs the light?" I taught Daniel. "Without light there is no shadow. Where is the light source to make this shadow?"  

Those phrases suddenly seemed much deeper than simple preschool science. To cast a picture, there is always a light. There is always a light. Where is the light source? Without the light there is no image.

Hmm, I snapped off the red flashlight, and headed back to the kitchen. Peaceful saxophone music still played, Morgan gathered up her heavy science books, and I sought out children's videos about bats.

(Also linking up with Emily at Imperfect Prose.)

Confessions of a HomeSchooling Mom

It didn't seem fair to wake them up early for school on Labor Day, after a late night, so I poured myself another cup of coffee, and relaxed my expectations for the day. This was really more of a school introduction today.

As a homeschooling mom to a ninth grader and a kindergartener, with my eldest off in his first year of college, school looks different this year. It is splashy cellophane-wrapped kindergarten kits of calenders and continents, with colorful alphabet banners, twenty-four-piece People Color crayons, and beautiful multicultural faces from around the world. Kindergarten still sits wrapped in cellophane on the table, though, while my ninth grader and I read Physical Science about atoms and molecules, and my kindergartener plays Wii games downstairs.

Confession 1.) Some days, school doesn't start at 9 am. And I haven't taken a shower yet.
Confession 2.) I am as excited as the students are -- often more so-- at the prospect of new books to read and things to learn.

As more people stream in and out of the kitchen and living room where we are reading, Morgan and I sneak away to a quiet bedroom to continue our science.

Confession 3.) I don't always have all items on hand to do the experiments before we read about it.

"Okay, I'm going to need to find two copper wires for this experiment," I admit sheepishly to my Morgan. "Let's read about it now, and then we'll do it later, okay?... Wow, look! We're actually ripping water molecules apart here! That's cool."

Confession 4.) I love learning along with them.

Lunch comes and goes, with family members fending for themselves in between subjects. The scent of grilling cheese and turkey simmer out from the panini-maker, and chunky apple wedges dot the table. Strawberries and chips are a mid-morning snack.

Dirty dishes line one side of my sink, while clean dishes from last night fill two counters to the left of the sink.

Mammoth zucchini boats were shredded down to towering wet mounds of grated green-striped pulp, and folded into muffins last night. The last of those sweet muffins was gobbled up this morning by the earliest risers.

School supplies adorn my kitchen table in glory, while photographic books of India, China, Mongolia and Japan stack in glossy piles according to country on my floor. Legos and plastic army warriors huddle as toys from the night before, scattered between school piles, and I still haven't started kindergarten yet. I think it will be afternoons, three times a week.

Daughter disappears downstairs, clicking into her internet links on Chinese History and Culture, and writing summaries about Chinese school systems, pagodas, the Hidden City, and more.

My husband and college-age son are out playing tennis today on their day off, while I introduce high school and kindergarten to the ones at home. I text both men, asking them to stop and pick up bread, ice cream and maybe some snacks on the way home.

Confession 5.) We're out of "good" food, my kids say, and lunch requires their creativity, or heating up leftovers.

Silence descends on my home as brains are being stretched and used. And that sound of learning? It's beautiful!

Excuse me as I grab some books, open some cellophaned maps and start kindergarten. I can't wait...

Linking with Ann at A Holy Experience.

What to Bring to College with You (& Maybe With Us Each Day too?)

White terry dish-cloths lie haphazardly across orange dish soap, green scratch pads, and his very first "sauce pan" to make pasta and eggs.

"Have I taught you how to boil noodles?" I ask.

We choose four white plates ("Wide enough to hold lots of food, Mom"), two large red-rimmed bowls deep enough to hold steaming Ramen soup packets, and then nestled silverware for four. In between calls to a roommate's family to see about shower curtains, we choose a matching bath mat, and marvel at how cheap the cans of Comet bath scrubbing powder are. We deliberate glassware and finger pizza cutters, laughingly.

Most of all, though, as he leaves for college, I want him to carry with him-- I want all my students to pack with them!-- these truths:

1.) Your worth and identity in Christ is already built, and is forged in who you are in him. You are loved, chased, pursued, created with purpose and imbued with passions and skills. Your joy and fulfillment will blow you away when you are leaning into him, breathing him in. You have immeasurable value, not because of your grades or anything you have done. You can't earn God by your actions, but he has paid everything to buy you life in him. He calls you dearly-loved, the apple of his eye, and he delights in you.

2.) And you know what? He says that about the people around you too. So often, they don't know it. Walking blindly and silently, or blusteringly loud, they may not know their value and worth, nor the One who made them. Stop and really see them --look deep into their eyes and smile--knowing how God sees them. Hear them: their stories, their fears, their dreams, and love them with his clean, caring love.

 3.) True freedom spills past university doors. It's so much more than the unbridled ease of bedtimes, mealtimes, class-times, free time, and the days being yours. True freedom splashes wild and big throughout your entire life. This freedom flows from knowing whose you are, and that all of life is an adventure of running full-tilt with your Maker. Throw your hands wide, grab each moment in strong hands, and live! 

How has your week gone? What do you wish you had known your first year of college, or in your first years after high school? 

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Photo credit #1 to Rochester.edu.
Photo credit #2 to DakDillon Photography.