Today was an interesting day. Someone popped online for a few minutes before their school day began and then forgot to turn me off. Thanks to a perfect location in the room, and no children using me for their studies-gotta love those people with multiple computers-, I was able to observe.
The mom looked fresh, as though she'd just gotten ready for the day but it was after noon. I don't know if they're night owls or if she just 'freshens up' for the school day. The children looked slightly rumpled but the clothing was clean, it fit, and there were no holes or tears. I think they'd been wearing them for a few hours. All of them had nice clean faces and 'done' hair.
The room was very cheerful. Tastefully decorated, it was homey without being cluttered. The 'students' assembled on the couch, around a table, and in nearby chairs. The mother settled down in a nicely padded recliner beside a low bookcase. One by one the older children filed by receiving their assignment sheets and asking simple questions about different subjects. As the younger children drew near, she handed worksheets to each one. How she did this, I thought, was interesting.
She would hand the sheet to a child and say, "What do you do on this sheet?" The child would look at it and tell her the answer. Sometimes she'd say, "Excellent, go do it!" but other times she'd say, "You didn't read it very well. Read it, don't guess." Usually the child would reread it, get a silly look on his face like he can't believe he didn't read that right, and go do it. One child didn't understand. She reread the instructions several times but still misunderstood. The mother showed her by doing one of the items on the sheet. I could see the lightbulb go off from across the room. The child raced to the table and did the worksheet in record time.
At this time, after a quick assurance to a child asking if they were doing a problem right, she pulled out a science book and flipped through the pages. She took notes on what they'd need for some experiments and then put that book back. She pulled out a grammar book and flipped to the current page. She then opened the pages of three workbooks and called for three of the childrn to come into the room. They read the instructions aloud, she gave an example of how to identify a direct object, and told one of the scholars to identify the direct object in the next sentence. Once each of them managed to successfully complete the task, she sent them to work on their grammar assignments.
Later, after a few minutes listening to a new reader read and explaining how to find what an integer is, she opened the science book. Three students came rushing to listen and take turns reading from the book. They did an experiment, each turning out similarly but slightly different, and then assembled the necessary materials for the next one.
The mail interrupted at this point and mom called several of the children to see the new piano instructional DVDs. Two of the children immediately took a laptop to another room and in a few minutes I could hear the instructional video and their tentative striking of keys. Before mom could begin correcting work, three of the younger children were finished with all of their work. Mom looked at a list of books and movies and sent them to another room to watch a science video.
The mother then pulled me from my perch. I couldn't see anything anymore but I could hear the sounds of a toddler waking and squealing with joy. The mother snuggled with the little girl and read a short book from low bookcase. Full of security, suggles, and energy to burn, the toddler dashed away to find her siblings and woo them into a swing on the swingset.
Now mother went to work recording grades, correcting work, taking notes, and I think working on her own curriculum that she is writing. I saw her glance at the computer clock. "It's almost four, finish up whatever you're doing and let's get this place in shape for daddy. I'l start dinner."
Children climbed out of the woodwork replacing books on shelves and sharpening pencils. One little girl squealed excitedly when she realized that the next day was 'art'. The mother, unfortunately, closed me at that point. I don't think she ever got to actually read anything I had to share. I hope she comes back. It was a nice experience.
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Today I was startled as a face looked back at mine. It was a young woman. She wore chunky earrings, sported spiked hair dyed black, and ugly dark lipstick. Her t-shirt was black and somehow I guessed her skirt or pants and shoes were black too. I wonder at my boldness.
I must confess, I had some preconceived ideas about this girl. I saw her as hard. I wondered if she'd open her mouth to reveal a pierced tongue. I guessed that her ankles or lower back sported a tatoo or two. I felt sorry for her mother. The little girl she'd probably dressed in ruffles and bows looking so sweet now looks like part of the new rebellion.
I wondered what she would read. She read my words and opened a new window. She opened her email and sent the link to a friend with the words, "Maybe this will encourage you today. I know you are hurting. I am praying for you."
I was humbled. I assumed she was a wayward child! I assumed that she was seared to the things of the Lord. Her face was softened as she read an email from a friend. She wept for the friend's struggles. She sent back encouraging scriptures and a promise of prayer.
I wondered again at her appearance. Why the desire to look like a counter culture group? Was she a recent convert? Did she have a time of rebellion? Were they weaker Christians? Or was I focusing too much on what she looked like? Maybe she just thinks the look is 'cool'. Is it a sin to wear black, dye your hair and wear chunky jewelry?
I know there is a lot of truth to the argument of avoiding the appearance of evil, and that we're to be light in a dark world. But there is also a lot about showing the love of Christ to those who are hurting. This girl sure did that. I watched as she read encouraging blogs, wept over the news of another school shooting, and wrote her own encouragement to her friends to stand strong in the faith, honor their parents, glorify Jesus in all that they do, and love the Lord with all their hearts, souls, minds, and strength.
I have to admit, I liked her. I closed my eyes and pictured her differently. I pictured her hair curled and her lipstick pink. I changed her ugly jewelry for dainty jewelry and her t-shirt to a purple sweater. It looked beautiful on her. She was so pretty. I saw her mother lean over her shoulder and read what the girl wrote. She beamed with pride and hugged her daughter. The joy in her eyes as she said, "I love you" was so sincere and beautiful.
I jumped. My mental picture had faded into reality and I saw that same mother leaning over the girl's shoulder. I saw her beaming with pride and hugging her daughter. I saw the joy shining in her eyes as she said "I love you".
The mom wasn't ashamed of her semi-goth daughter. I don't know the story behind this girl. I dont' know why she has made some of the choices she has. I do know that she loves the Lord. I do know that her heart is sensitive to honoring Him with her life. And I think that if the Lord wants her to change her appearance... she'll be receptive to that.
I want so badly to ask why. But maybe the why has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with me. Maybe she looks like that to teach me a lesson in humility. Maybe, just maybe, I was supposed to learn that some have the overflowing love of Christ in their hearts and others have only the appearance of it.
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Oh do I have interesting observations to share with you. Remember Sally and Jane? Well, Sally's mom, Martha, was online yesterday evening while she talked to her husband Peter. I got to hear the whole conversation and it was highly enlightening.
Martha was feeling quite despondent and worn down. She told her husband about the things going on in the lives of the people on the board and they prayed for a few of the more serious situations together. After perusing a few more boards and several pages on each Martha turned from the computer and went to the Kitchen for a drink of water. Peter noticed the change in her and asked what was wrong. Her answer surprised both of us.
"I don't know!" she said. "I just feel so tired and worn out. I don't think I'm depressed but I do think I could be driving in that general direction. I just don't know how to get off that highway and onto a more pleasant one."
Her husband is a very wise man. Peter looked at her carefully, sat thoughtfully for a few minutes, and then spoke words I never expected. "Martha, do you think it is because of the boards you frequent? Not that the boards themselves are bad, but because by their very nature, people tend to post their problems or exciting triumphs. They don't post about the normal things of life.
"I hear you tell me about one woman's husband's new job, or another heading to Iraq. Someone has a wayward teen, another was diagnosed with an auto-immune disease. There was a fire, a baby born, a lifetime friend lost. Each thing is often so extreme. People don't post about the housework, the phone call they enjoyed, the candy kisses they ate under the table with the kids, or the way the lemon pudding didn't set so it became lemon sauce over the cake and was really good!"
They discussed how the internet usually only shows the highs or lows of life and little of the middle which makes up so much of life. Peter thought that it was probably very emotionally draining to read of such extremes. For women who are prone to comparisons it could even be dangerous. Their lives could easily be considered 'hum-drum' in comparison. The doldrums love situations like that.
As they talked, I remembered Martha's daughter, Sally. She had such a skewed idea of marriage and motherhood from the posts she read on her mother's boards. I'm sure it never occurred to her that the women on the boards, even those in the worst sounding marriages, would be shocked to see the impression left on others. To them, life isn't horrid and miserable... there is just a small corner of their life that is. But, when it is all you know of someone... if all they ever share of themselves is their troubles, trials, and miserations, no wonder others see them in such a negative light.
I hope Sally talks to her mother about her observations. I know that many women do not live a life that their daughters would WANT to emulate... but how sad to think that it is a life that no one would ever want to emulate because the jobs themselves are truly distasteful. How untrue!
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I wanted to share funny anecdotes in my little space here but today something happened that I just had to share. A young girl, around sixteen, was reading different online blogs and message boards. Apparently they were the ones most frequented by her mother. She stopped in my space so I got to see her reactions. I cried.
She was instant messenging a friend and the conversation went something like this.
Jane: What are you doing?
Sally: Reading my mom's boards.
Jane: Why are you doing that?
Sally: It helps figure out what mom is irked about now.
Jane: Your mom is upset?
Sally: She's being really grumpy.
Jane: Did you find her problem?
Sally: Yep, it's me again.
Jane: YOU! You're a great daughter. What could she have to complain about?
Sally: I guess I don't have a great enough attitude when I scrub toilets and change diapers.
Jane: Huh?
Sally: Well she posted about how I am always dragging my feet to do my chores and that I am just rushing through once I do start and I don't do them right.
Jane: How much 'right' is there to changing a diaper?
Sally: Apparently I don't notice it needs changing and rush to do it before she can even ask. I dont' know when the last time she changed one was. Probably more recent than I know but I just don't notice. I have all my schoolwork and... oh I don't know.
Jane: I wonder if she's just tired.
Sally: She is. The baby hasn't been sleeping. Everything probably seems worse than it really is but she can't see that. I'll have to be more observant for a while. I know I want more help and sympathy when I'm exhausted.
Jane: Sometimes I wish our moms would just talk to us and be honest.
Sally: Me too. I guess I have it pretty good. Mom did tell everyone how much cooking I've been doing. She wasn't totally trashing me like some of the moms. Honestly, I feel sorry for some of those kids. Nothing they do is good enough. It's like their parents want robotic little automatons.
Jane: Isn't that redundant? Robotic Automaton?
Sally: Well you know what I mean. The kids just exist to make the moms look good.
Jane: I've seen that in the homeschool group. The kid does something great in the co-op class but mom can't praise it because she's too busy slamming the kid for not thanking the teacher before leaving the room.
Sally: Yeah, and the marriages on these boards are terrible. Husbands are into pornography, they can't do anything right with the wives so I guess it's understandable even if it is wrong. The wives are overworked and under appreciated.
Jane: It's like marriage is God's way of punishing people for being people.
Sally: Yeah, something like that. I mean my parents aren't as miserable as some of these people. Mom won't run dad down like that publically but even she makes snide remarks when she thinks no one is listening. Poor dad feels like he can't win.
Jane: Yeah, and we're all walking on eggshells over here. Dad just is a totally different guys these days. We don't ask him for anything, and we try to keep anything annoying away or he just explodes.
Sally: He doesn't get mean does he?
Jane: Oh no, nothing like that. But you know how he is... all laid back and stuff. Lately he just whines and gripes over every little thing. I think he's over worked and overwhelmed.
Sally: Well, I know one thing. I'm never getting married. I've never met anyone who really seemed happy about it ten years later.
Jane: I know what you mean. Only Mrs. Smith seems totally content. He's really a nice guy too.
Sally: YEah, and they have nothing. What's up with that?
Jane: I dont' know but I dont' think I'll chance it. The odds are way off.
Sally: Me either. I guess this is another place we'll totally disappoint our parents huh?
Jane: Probably.
The girls had to get offline. The baby had another messy diaper and Jane's dad was due home. I was sad. I'm sure the girls' views were skewed by misunderstanding but it was sad to see them so jaded already about marriage and children. They tried to be caring and understanding. They loved their parents. They just wanted something more. Something better for themselves. I wonder what their parents would think if they knew the thoughts of those daughters.
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My name is Blogelle. Terrible name isn't it? Why my parents would saddle me with such a terrible name I'll never know. But, that is not to the point. I intend to give you a humorous glimpse into the world of a Blog and it's viewers.
Oh look, there is my first viewer now. I'll try not to chuckle. I thought no one used curlers anymore. How adorable. Thank you for inviting me into your home. Oh the baby is so cute. Cootchie gootchie coo! Look at those teeth! Quite charming!
Uh oh, I think your pot is boiling over. Yep, some white foamy stuff is running down your pot and into the stove. Hurry! Oh I am sorry. Was that rice? You know, if you put a few drops of oil in there as it cooks it won't boil over. Try it sometime.
You know, you remind me of a woman who visited yesterday. She was a master of doing thirty things at once all while reading her blogs. She jumped up and answered the door, saved a plant from utter destruction by the cat, and caught a toddler before he became the next flasher! She then paid four bills, popped a frozen casserole in the oven, and directed three children to do a clean sweep of the room. Her desk was, from my vantage point, quite clean but apparently appearances are deceiving because she spent a good fifteen minutes doing a rapid clean up of the desktop alone all while chuckling over some blog or another.
I saw a basket of clothing whiz by and mom popped up to start the washer. I could barely see her flying through the crack of the door of the laundry room. The trash lumbered by on the arms of a little boy wearing a coonskin cap, and within five more minutes all five of the children sat in chairs and on the couch with books. I think they were supposed to be reading. They weren't. They were watching the window. I noticed that the little girl with pigtails grew expectant. Her eyes almost bulged! The boy next to her bounced and wriggled. I don't know how he didn't fall off the couch. I heard a door open. The woman at the computer looked up and smiled at someone near the door. Suddenly the children broke away from the couch and tackled a male voice. It was laughing. Clearly papa was home. Once the kidlets welcomed daddy they put their books away (without being told! Way to go MOM!) and raced outside.
I won't tell you what happened next. It would be indiscreet. Not to mention, I think you can guess so why waste perfectly good time telling you about it. There is no subtlety anymore! Dad moved away from the computer screen and to another room. A few minutes later he reemerged in jeans and a t-shirt and hurried out the back door.
I can't tell you what happened next. The mom shut the computer off and I didn't see her until early this morning. That was a beautiful thing to see.
I'll tell you more tomorrow. I'm being sent to bed.