Tim has really had his trials this year with tillers.
Our tiller is having a problem. Something to do with it losing power when it hits the dirt. He's done everything he can to that stinking machine, and he can't make it work. He kept his temper, but vowed to send it to the trash heap.
My mom got a new front tiller, which Tim looks upon with great contempt, and told Tim he could have her old tiller to see if he could use parts to make his tiller work...or maybe he could tune up her old tiller and use it.
Well, her tiller was almost a wash. He dumped about 1/2 gallon of water out of different parts of the engine. He did get it running, but seems this tiller had the same problem. Lost energy the moment the blades hit the dirt.
He threw up his hands in frustration. My sister happened to be here, and she had just found an old Troy-bilt that she was willing to go in partners with him. That means he kept the old thing going, and they both used it whenever they needed it.
Well, Tim brightened considerably at that idea. He loves Troy-bilts. A lot. He ran right over there to get his new partly owned Troy-bilt and brought the thing home. He started it up, and just stood there and smiled at the raucous sound of the engine.
After dinner he took it back to the garden area to see what it might do. We were all finishing up our dinner at the table, which sits next to the dining windows that look out on the back field. We watched him march out to the tiller with large, man-sized, stomps...which in male body language means "I have a powerful engine that works and I am bigger than you."
Tim started the tiller, and we heard the satisfying roar. He got behind the thing and pulled on a black handle thingy that has a name, but not an important name.
That tiller took off like a shot! My husband is a good sized man. 6'1" and 22l lbs. That tiller had him flying behind it like a flag on a windy day.
Tim looked like a man trying to direct a wild bull. He pulled at the handles, and tried to drag his heels into the dirt. But the tiller tried to bite back with it's blades. When he backed off to get out of the way of the blades, it took off with him again, whipping him off his feet. The handles turned this way and that as the blades bumped and grinded over the top of the ground, sinking it's sinister teeth into the dirt just long enough to tease Tim into grabbing hold of the handles a little harder. Then it shook him like a dog with a bone, and off it flew again.
I was in the house screaming, "Shut the curtains, children! Don't watch! Oh, your daddy's going to kill himself!"
My children were laughing and whooping and screaming, "Go Dad! Go! Look at that thing!"
I slammed the curtains shut, and grabbed a phone to call 911 just in case and marched out the back door. The phone rang just as I stepped out the door to scream at Tim to turn that demon off! I answered the phone, and it was Karla, my sister and part owner of the The Tiller From Hell.
"Your dumb tiller is going to kill my husband!" I screamed at her.
I dropped the phone down at my waist and heard her yelling something, but I couldn't hear her over the sound of the tiller and my screams of "Stop, Tim! Stop that thing this instant!"
Tim saw me and pulled some lever, again with a name but again, not an important name, and the tiller slowly shut down.
He came loping up to me and said with a proud smile, "Did you see that thing? Did you see what that thing can do? Who's on the phone?"
"The other owner. She wants the tiller home right now and doesn't want you for a partner anymore."
My kids were laughing and yelling and Tim was beaming with pride. I went to sit in the gazebo to catch my breath and relive Tim's bloody death at the hand of the tiller's blades a few times.
Jillian approached me after a few moments.
"You know what, Mom?" she said. "If I ever get married and my husband is an alcoholic, I'm going to ask him to till a garden for me."
"How is tilling a garden going to help the man?" I asked.
"I'll tell him to borrow Dad's tiller and that will kill him and take care of all of my problems," she said with a giggle.
Alcoholism. Murder. That tiller has got to go
Christy was messing around with the Cuisinere rods this morning. She pretended she worked advising farmers of what crops to plant each year. She gathered up Farmer Brown's pretend records and analyzed them, making a bar graph with the rods for each crop's sales the last four years.
Then she wrote out an analysis for Farmer Brown. She recommended he stop growing beets, as they were his lowest seller the past two years. Although carrots didn't do much better, she suggested he keep growing them, and perhaps buy a horse to eat any leftovers he couldn't sell. Also, since his sale of walnuts had risen steadily, she recommended he use the beet field to plant some almonds and pecans and take advantage of this run on nuts.
Man, I don't know about you, but I love playing Boggle with my kids! I learn so much about what is floating around in their heads every time we break out that little plastic box!
For example, my sweet just-finishing-sixth grader found the word "thermic." Thermic. This child has been unschooled since day one and she finds thermic. I still have the bruise from where my jaw dropped so far it hit the table.
Then my oldest. She plays "codicil." No, don't go get a dictionary, it's a real word, I promise. It is a legal instrument used to modify a will. No, she isn't studying law, but she does love words.
Wow.
Hubby and I watched "The Pursuit of Happyness" the other night and something has been marinating in my spirit ever since. (Irrelevant spoiler warning)
During a pivotal moment in the film, the main character and his son are attending church services at a homeless shelter. The choir sings "Lord, Don't Move That Mountain."
NOW LORD DON'T MOVE MY MOUNTAIN
BUT GIVE ME THE STRENGTH TO CLIMB
AND LORD, DON'T TAKE AWAY MY STUMBLING BLOCKS
BUT LEAD ME ALL AROUND
OH LORD YOU DON'T HAVE TO MOVE THE MOUNTAIN
BUT GIVE ME THE STRENGTH TO CLIMB
AND LORD, DON'T TAKE AWAY MY STUMBLING BLOCKS
BUT LEAD ME ALL AROUND
LORD I DON'T BOTHER NOBODY
I TRY TO TREAT EVERYBODY THE SAME
BUT EVERYTIME, I TURN MY BACK
THEY SCANDALIZE MY NAME
BUT OH JESUS, YOU DON'T HAVE TO MOVE MY MOUNTAIN
BUT GIVE ME THE STRENGTH TO CLIMB
AND LORD DON'T TAKE AWAY MY STUMBLING BLOCKS
BUT LEAD ME ALL AROUND
NOW WHEN MY FOLKS WOULD SLAY ME
THESE THINGS THEY WILL TRY TO DO
BUT LORD, DON'T TOUCH EM
BUT WITHIN THEIR HEART
MAKE EM GIVE THEIR LIFE TO YOU
OH MASTER YOU DON'T HAVE TO MOVE MY MOUNTAIN
BUT GIVE ME THE STRENGTH TO CLIMB
AND LORD, DON'T TAKE AWAY MY STUMBLING BLOCKS
BUT LEAD ME ALL AROUND
This made me wonder: How many times since I've been born again have I asked the Lord to remove this stumbling block or that, or to move that mountain on my behalf? Many times He has and I've accepted it as a matter of course, other times he hasn't, and I've felt abandoned. Have I not reached my full potential because I haven't learned to climb my mountains yet?
I even know what my mountain is: depression. I can count on one hand times in my life when the mountain wasn't there. Mostly, I remember an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and dread that was frequently mistaken as laziness. I remember from my earliest years trying to find ways around it - to avoid it.
Even now, I walk a fine line between the deep, black pit and the pharmaceuticals. Of course, I've asked the Lord to move that mountain. But what if my victory comes from scaling it? And how does one even go about doing that?
I could make so many comments about this, but I'll abstain. It speaks for itself.
Sunday, 05/13/07
Teachers' phony attack upsets Murfreesboro students, parents
Prank during trip had 6th-graders taking coverMURFREESBORO — Parents of students at a Murfreesboro elementary school are outraged that teachers and an assistant principal staged a phony gun attack on their children, telling them repeatedly it was not a drill, while the children cried and took shelter under tables.
Sixty-nine sixth-grade students from Scales Elementary school were on a weeklong trip at Fall Creek Falls, a state park about 130 miles southeast of Nashville. On Thursday, the last night of the outing, the staff played a prank on the kids, convincing them there was a gunman on the loose.
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A teacher wearing a hooded sweatshirt pulled on a locked door, pretending to be a suspicious subject in the area.
The students were told to lie on the floor or crawl underneath tables and keep quiet. The lights went out, and about 20 kids started to cry, 11-year-old Shay Naylor said. Some held hands and shook.
"I was like, 'Oh my God,' " Shay said Saturday afternoon as she recounted the incident. "At first I thought I was going to die. We flipped out. (A teacher) told us, 'We just got a call that there's been a random shooting.' I was freaked out. I thought it was serious."
Some parents said Saturday they were outraged, especially in light of the April 16 shootings at Virginia Tech that left 33 students and professors dead, including the gunman.
Scales Elementary Principal Catherine Stephens held a meeting Saturday afternoon at the school to discuss the matter with a handful of concerned parents who contacted school officials Friday night.
She said she was saddened by the situation and that the school was handling it, though she declined to elaborate on whether the teachers involved would face disciplinary action.
'Poor judgment' blamed
Assistant Principal Don Bartch, who led the trip, said the entire scenario lasted about five minutes, after which the teachers gathered the students and explained it was a prank.
"We got together and discussed what we would have done in a real situation," he said.
Several parents said they were troubled by the staff's poor judgment.
"The children were in that room in the dark, begging for their lives, because they thought there was someone with a gun after them," said Brandy Cole, whose son went on the trip.
"This was not a good experience," said Alisha Graves, whose son attended. "Those kids were crying, and they were terrified."
Brandy Cole said she found out about the incident shortly after her son returned home from the trip Friday afternoon.
"I was shocked," said Cole, whose husband, Jimmy, immediately sent an e-mail requesting a meeting with Bartch.
Barbara Corbetta, whose child also went to Fall Creek Falls with the group, said she spoke to several different parents and kept hearing the same details — kids on the floor crying and begging for their lives.
"The circumstance that occurred involved poor judgment," Stephens said. "My hope is that we can learn from this, and in the end, it will have a positive result of growth for all of us."
Shay and her mother, Niki Morris, said they forgave the teachers and wanted to move on. It "went too far because it was too gruesome," Shay said. "You'd think a teacher wouldn't do it, but they did. But they're great teachers. If (the assistant principal) loses his job, I will break into tears. He's the best assistant principal I've ever had."
Kathryn Sherrod, a Midstate psychologist who works with children, said she can see how kids could be traumatized by this, especially in light of the Virginia Tech shootings.
"That's too close to real," she said. "It's important for teachers and school administrators to realize they have a degree of trust with children. When you play a prank of that nature, you run the risk of losing that trust."
I got stuck.
In my studies, I was trying to make sense of things, trying to make puzzle pieces fit together that didn't even look like they belonged to the same puzzle. It seemed that the more I tried to make sense of things from the Word, the less sense things were making.
My stomach was hurting. I was discouraged.
Then I got a phone call. It was from a lady who really wanted to adopt a child, but the doors were closed to her family. Like most people that want to adopt, the family had set eyes on a specific child and their hearts had recieved her as one of their own. But the doors closed. She was heartbroken. So was her family. She wanted me to tell her why God would have opened their hearts to loving this child and then slam the doors shut. Surely the doors weren't *really* shut if their hearts knew so absolutely that this child belonged to them. There had to be another way, another plan. This couldn't be...just it. The end.
I snorted, literally. "You are asking ME?" I asked incredulously. "Me? You think I know what He means by all this after Jumoke?!"
"Well, yes," she said. "I thought because of what you went thru you would know."
I find this one thing in my life very amazing. I can walk thru a dark place, and all it is is dark. I can't think, can't seem to hear the Holy Spirit. I just stumble along, not able to encourage myself nor remind myself of the things of the Lord.
But have someone call me and ask me and my brain is just flooded with scriptures and examples of God's unfathomable character and nature.
So I reminded her of Samuel. His mother begged and cried and grieved for a child. And God finally gave her one, only to have her give her child to the priest for raising. Not only was she not allowed to raise her first born son, but she had to give his raising up to wicked men. Eli's sons were not good male models.
We all know without doubt that God made a family to raise children. A mother and a father. A unit to raise the child in safety and nurturance. There is no doubt at all that this is the perfect unit for a child to grow up in.
But then He broke that rule and sent Samuel to be raised by ungodly priests.
Go figure.
And Mary. If you want to talk about God not considering the emotions of humans, Mary is the ultimate example. Birthed her first born son, watched and pondered his Other-ness as He grew into a man, watched her innocent son die a criminal's death.
Some things are bigger than our feelings. Most things are bigger than our feelings.
And then there is Job. I don't even need to tell the story again. For no reason other than that he was a righteous man, he drew the attention of the accuser. And for reasons we cannot begin to comprehend, God handed every single thing to do with Job, aside from his life, over to a being that detested God and detested His creation. To a being that detested Job.
I found after this talk that I was greatly encouraged. I hope my friend was as well. But I suspect that the Holy Spirit was speaking to me as well, if not instead, of my friend.
When God begins to make sense to me, I find myself growing uncomfortable. No matter how much of Him fits nicely into whatever box I'm working on, there's always more of God than I can push into the box.
I find myself greatly relieved when I realize there are many more questions about Him than there are answers. That He is much bigger than any theology man comes up with.
Because quite frankly, I don't think I could begin to serve or trust a God that I can understand. There is too much evil and brokenness in this ugly world. Nothing I can understand would begin to cover the evil that touches the life of one real person. Oh, I can talk about it theologically and even maybe sound like I know what I'm talking about. But when it comes to one real person touched by real evil...words cannot comprehend it.
When it comes to goodness, the goodness I can understand simply cannot support the miraculous good I see around me.
The word "Love" cannot encompass what the thing really is.
I am much more comfortable with questions than answers. Because the answers are really mere excuses most of the time. Like Job's comforters, they leave me feeling sad and lost and lonely.
The mystery of God is my comfort.
Children can have a very hard time understanding time as regards our history. Actually, it seems like most children look at time probably very much as God does...it's neither here nor there.
To help our younger and middle children get a better grasp on how history fits into time, I have made up what I consider a more realistic timeline, something that at least my limited brain can grasp hold of a little easier.
Try drawing this out on a piece of paper before you put it on a wall somewhere. See if it fits your way of thinking so that you can show your children how it works.
Buy some plastic tape that will stick to the wall easily and peel off easily. Different colors would be best.
Think of year 0 as the beginning. Cut 20 pieces of tape 20 or 40 (or 60...whatever is best for your wall) long.
Set the lines up next to each other with some space in between. Think of them as birthday candles. Year 0 will be at the bottom of the line of tape on your right.
If you cut the tape into 20 inch pieces, each 10 years is about 2 inches long. Use a permanent marker to make little lines every 2 inches. If you used a 40 inch piece, 10 years is 4 inches, with 60 inches of tape, 10 years is 6 inches, etc.
Make each 100 years a different color from the one before and after it. I only have 4 colors, so just alternate them.
Make little tags that go at the bottom and top of each piece of tape.
First piece will have 0 at the bottom and 99 at the top.
Second piece of tape will have 100 at the bottom, 199 at the top.
Keep tags to write pertinent info on and stick near the appropriate date with sticky tack. Do the same with pictures of important historical figures.
You'll find it's much easier to visualize time with these birthday candle type lines, as opposed to the long lines in a timeline book or the horizontal lines of most wall timelines. Keep the others as well, tho. Seeing time in many different ways can be helpful.
But to get a grasp on how time works and how history fits into time, these vertical timelines are much more helpful.
There are a lot of things I love about homeschooling. But my #1 favorite, first place, all time list topper is that children can wait until they are ready to learn concepts.
We have run the gamut in reading instruction, for example. I embarked on a rigorous phonics, spelling and reading course with my second-born at age 4. She seemed ready, and was. We never made it to year two because she took off. My next child taught himself to read when I wasn't looking so I call him my "stealth reader." He took off as well, despite only three months of formal phonics instruction at around age 6. The next child up to bat was far more interested in physical activities than sitting with books. She learned the alphabet on a large hopscotch pattern I drew for her, and learned to spell her name while jumping rope. She wouldn't sit still for phonics, but will read now if the book catches her interest. Her younger sister is "all emotions all the time" and learned to read by listening to and reading emotionally-charged stories like The Velveteen Rabbit and Charlotte's Web. We got out the phonics book and looked through it with her. My youngest is only interested in important reading. She won't sit still for a story from the Pathway reader, but she will often get out a Bible and read it aloud, asking for help with unfamiliar words at the end of a sentence. I didn't even get out the phonics book for her. She seems to understand spelling instinctively.
My #1 favorite, first place, all time list topper example, though, is my subtraction with regrouping story. When I was in school, we called it "borrowing" and it took up three full months of math instruction. Some kids caught on the first day, others took the full three months and came away not quite understanding still.
One day, my nine-year-old came to me and asked how to take 26 from 135. Five minutes later, she walked away with an answer to her question and an understanding that stuck. Boom, she got it. No reteaching, no constant review until it finds a home in her long-term memory. That is my kind of teaching, and I love it when it happens. It's teaching "in the zone", like hitting that perfect tennis shot when the zing of the racket vibrates your arm all the way to the shoulder; or the perfect powmmmmmm of the bat when you hit the sweet spot and the ball sails over the outfield wall.
Not all our days are filled with successes like these. But every one of them has earned a spot on the Teaching Hall of Fame in my mind.
Since we moved closer, my mother-in-law has been picking up the children, one or two at a time, and taking them to her house for a week. This has generally worked well, but there have been problems.
What's working well:
- The kids have a chance to meet the relatives that live close to Grandma S and get to know her much better.
- The kids are exposed to all kinds of strangers and bragged about, something every child should have to endure from time to time.
- Last year, our oldest daughter spent a day at her cousin's work with her. Loved the cousin, loved the horses, but she came home talking about perhaps a future teaching high school literature rather than working with horses.
What's not working so well:
- Grandma S lives way out in the countryside. There are no dogs or other kids or anyone to distract a lonesome child from the vast nothingness. I know--it's a good thing and develops character and all that, but it doesn't make it any easier for a tender-hearted grandma to hear "I'm bored and lonely" often.
- Grandma S is a snowbird that spends her winters in Texas and her summers in Indiana. She picked up her first set of children on her way to open her summer home for the season. She wasn't really prepared to spend time with kids as she had many legal, accountant and medical appointments already made and waiting for her. That first set of kids spent more time sitting in waiting rooms than with her.
- Grandma S has health problems all of a sudden, suffering three colds in a row with just a brief recovery time between, so very few visits to relatives have been taking place this year.
- Grandma S does not like to make the drive from her house to ours alone, so transport has to wait upon friends that can accompany her. That's fine for when the two older girls took the youngest with them, not so fine for the next-to-youngest that needs to come home NOW because she is miserable!
- Grandma S, despite raising three boys as a single, working mom, has great difficulty providing the necessary oversight for our teenage son. She wants to spoil him (that's what Grandmas are for, she says) but eating McDonalds three meals a day and renting four R-rated movies a day just isn't her style; nor is it what we allow.
- Grandma S likes to "tease" our children about things we do differently than she did. For example, why our oldest girl isn't dating yet. "You'd better get your bedroom cleaned up! That's the first thing a date will want to see, you know!" Ahem.
Anyone who reads this (and you know who you are, Kim) will already know this, but just because it's the best thing to happen to me in months,
OreoSouza is blogging again!!! 
I'm dancing and shoutin' for joy over this, and if you've read her blog, you are, too!