A Disease Called Busyness

Posted on January 22, 2014 by Terri

Dear Lindsey,

Having lunch with my 13-yr-old last week, I asked him a question of where he wanted to be in five years. What kind of person was he aiming to become? Did he have goals for himself?

His answer surprised me, since he said that he wanted to be more like his older brother:

“Everyone likes Casey. My [12-yr-old] friend, Zarec, said it best: ‘The reason Casey is so much fun is because he seems like he is really having fun when he is with you!’ Most teenagers aren’t like that. I guess I want people to feel that fun from me.”

He wasn’t envying his brother, but admiring a trait he’d like to emulate. I like it when my kids think. I don’t know if he realized that his thinking convicted me, but I realized how “not fun” I live some days of my life.

The culprit?

A Disease called Busyness.

I think it is amusing when I ask my kids a question like, “How many times have you flossed this week?” and my eight-year-old will say, “I haven’t had time.”

Haha!! If you don’t have time when you are eight?…

Don’t we each feel that way though – whatever we are doing seems important enough to feel BUSY?

As an engineer (before motherhood), I

drove 50 miles each way to work
worked in three plant locations involving travel
volunteered at church directing the children’s choir
sang in the adult choir, and filled in as accompanist at times
taught piano lessons on the side
picked up kids who needed a ride to church
played on a softball team 30 minutes from my house (part way to work)
played in a county band
made meals from scratch
worked out every day
flossed my teeth 🙂
stayed involved in elections, attended weddings and baby showers, traveled to out-of-state family, practiced instruments and other things that happened on a non-daily routine

I am sure you could make this list for yourself.

“It is not enough to be industrious, so too are the ants,” said Henry David Thoreau, “but what are you industrious about?”

For me, I have LOVED to be busy my whole life. In highschool, my mother would continuously say (to my back as I was leaving the house), “You are burning the candle at both ends; it cannot last!”

I wore it like a badge.

My highschool yearbook looked like I was trying to be Jan Brady (or was it Marsha?) with all of my activities: Shakespeare Club, high school musical, jazz band, church plays, babysitting, softball teams, marching band, (county, district and state bands), Science Fair competitions, indoor drumline, National Honor Society, nursing home visitation, and winter ski club.

I could have sung the Veggie Tales song to any friend who asked for time, “I’m busy busy! Frightfully busy! You’ve no idea what I’ve got to do!”

But there are so many pitfalls to busyness! A book, Crazy Busy, by Kevin DeYoung inspired the following:

Pitfalls of Busyness

Makes us lose sight of direction.
Robs our happiness.
Masks our growing further from whom we were meant to be.

1. Busyness makes us lose sight of the direction we intended.

I like to list those activities of my engineering days, because it is clearly eclectic, and pointless for where I am today. What was my goal? We have twenty-four hours in our checking account to spend, 365 days a year. We cannot add to that number in any way. My eighth grade teacher, Mrs. Romberger, taught me a valuable lesson on busyness, when she had us actually keep an account ledger of our time. We took a lined piece of paper, and labeled each line with fifteen-minute intervals of time. Then for one week, we were supposed to stop every fifteen minutes and write down what we were doing. I remember being shocked – even at that young age – of things which I had no intention of doing that took my time! (Maybe I should do this today? I cannot figure out what happened to my 11am to 2pm yesterday!!!) If we could look back at our account ledger for the last six months of time, we would likely be able to predict where we will be in five years! Our hourly account ledger tells where we are headed. Does it have the direction we intended? It is “what we are industrious about” that matters.

2. Busyness robs our happiness.

Recently I had a day when I got miserably tired. You know the kind? Once my daughter, exhausted and teary at age seven said, “I am so tired, my heart has been at the edge of a cliff, and it just went over. Wah hah hah”– That kind of tired.

When my heart, “went over the edge,” I analyzed the day I had had:

I had gotten up early for a good workout and Bible time,
Then went to have coffee with a friend in need, arriving a little late.
I came home shortly and did some homeschooling work with the kids, then let them work on their own assignments while I
Volunteered playing piano at the high school where my oldest son attends.
I came home and paid the cleaning lady quickly before leaving in a hurry,
To drive my daughter to homeschool youth theatre practice, while eating lunch out of my lap.
I volunteered with music for that group for 2 hours
I came home in time to say hello to my teens before dropping them at the soccer carpool.
Making the family dinner took a little longer than expected, so I didn’t get to sit down.
I ate dinner from my lap while driving to an evening orchestra practice at church which I had been looking forward to.
I came home and the younger kids wanted me to read to them before bed, but
- It was late
  - And I was tired.
    - Chris wanted to tell me about his ideas, and spend quality husband/wife time, but my body had had it!

I felt like saying, “Do you know the kind of day I have had?!!!”

Then I actually thought about the kind of day I had had:

I had started with exercise and quiet time in prayer.
I had spent time with my kids.
I had given of my time and talents in volunteer work.
I had played in an orchestra at church – a kind of worship for me, cleansing of my soul, once a week when my schedule allows.
I had eaten healthy – even from my lap – since I had prepared the meals.

That day would have been called “rest” back in my engineering days (and most of my “normal days” now), but clearly, the happiness had been robbed.

I ended too tired to read to my kids.

Volunteering had become a chore when it affected my meals!

Any of these events taken separately would have been a blessing, but all together, they were a strain.

A thief came in to rob my happiness through the door of my calendar.

The sad part is that most people have busyness robbing their happiness and they do not recognize the cause, only its effect.

3. Busyness masks our decay.

If we are not growing right, we are growing wrong!! There is no staying the same.

Growth in a specific direction takes specific intent for growth. Growth in a bad direction takes no work at all.

If I want to be a healthy weight, it takes massive intent and work.

If I want to gain weight, it’s a piece of cake! (Pun intended! 🙂 )

Growing in a right direction requires tending to the calendar, not just riding along in an “unattended car”. Keeping ourselves busy disguises itself as productivity, when in actuality it is often masking decay.

I believe this decay due to busyness is very evident in marriages:

Nobody plans for a marriage to decline to a status of “acquaintance management,” but lack of planning is the root of the rot. Personal busyness usually does not involve the spouse…who frankly has his/her own reason to be busy, leading him/her in different directions. Our busyness often is exclusive of those who are closest to us, leaving what matters most in our hearts, out of our mind while we RUSH – often trying to serve the very ones we ignore. While we think we are working to get things done, things are becoming undone within us…as individuals and in our relationships.

Rest is not the antithesis of productivity.

“Tending” to our growth, personally or professionally, means we know when we need rest, too. Rest can actually halt the decay cycle. My husband wrote a whole book on the importance of rest! (Maybe I should rest from writing and read it again! He says, “Sometimes you have to go slow to go fast.” A Month of Italy: Rediscovering the Art of Vacation.) Rest allows time to think. Unscheduled time allows planning for the future.

If we have every minute filled with who we are, it will be difficult to find time to become who we are meant to be!

Leave space!! Just because there is a blank in the calendar does not mean it needs to be filled! (Okay, I am screaming, “Preach it, sister!” to myself in my head – because I am SO preaching to myself. I suppose I better close this letter before my “self” starts answering.)

One last note: According to author Bryan Caplan, secondhand stress is a leading complaint among kids. In an “Ask the Children” survey, researcher Ellen Galinsky interviewed more than 1000 kids in grades 3-12, asking, “If you were granted one wish to change the way that your mother’s/father’s work affects your life, what would that wish be?” Who could have guessed the kids’ answer would have involved their parents’ attitude?! When asked to “grade” their parents for “appreciating me for who I am, “ or “making me feel loved,” or even, “attending important events in my life,” the parents scored well. But “controlling his/her temper when I do something that makes him/her angry” got the worst marks on the parents’ report card! They feel our stress!

Okay, I do not remember that lady interviewing my kids, but wow! She might have been here. It’s not that I “blow up” at my kids. I have even worked on many systems to avoid the repetitive nagging. But, I often wonder if my kids are going to say my most commonly said word was, “hurry!”

I don’t want them to remember me as the “hurry!” mom. I want them to feel the fun I have with them. I want them to remember me as the mom who loves them and who loves Jesus, and who stresses only in things eternal. I think my infliction with the Disease called Busyness may be masking my most important message…to my kids, to my husband and to myself.

To be continued,

Terri

Real Moms: “When the Last Goldfish Dies”

Posted on January 7, 2014 by Terri

Dear Lindsey,

After ice skating for a while, I decided I could sit back with my book while I watched my kids through the glass. The Tuesday family skate brought less than ten kids that morning.

I sat in the viewing area with my book, while other moms enjoyed fellowship and coffee. I overheard one mom say to another, “I am going to have a party when that last goldfish dies!”

I chuckled to myself, since we had the amazing longevity-gifted goldfish at our house, too, and I completely understood what she was saying! We had won the fish at the State Fair. These three fish with an average life of one day, were going on their second YEAR at the Brady house – living in Tupperware, since I had given the fish tank away to a neighbor literally days before that State Fair.

The plastic home of these carnival fish lived in our basement homeschool area and always pleaded for cleaning. Always. It seemed that although the kids had begged to keep them, no one ever remembered we had them – except me – when I smelled them.

I get it ! I mean, when that last goldfish dies:

No more working to keep the tank (or Tupperware) clean!
No more rocks, filters, lights or food to replace!
No more badgering kids to finish responsibilities!

As luck would have it, weeks after the overheard goldfish comment, one of our Fair goldfish was found in a not-so-fair state, floating on the top of the water. That night, a second fish was moving slowly, looking awfully buoyant, and dead by morning.

The third fish was gone within twenty-four hours, confirming that something must have happened to the water (which ironically, was clean this time).

(My husband wants me to tell you that he is innocent. Really.)

The mourning process in my kids was shocking to me.

Life appreciates after it is gone.

These ignored fish, suddenly had value now that they were gone, the same way the man in the casket always seems to have so many “best friends.”

“I miss him!” my eight-year-old cried, assigning gender to one who had no name or gender – that we had identified anyway. “I loved him so much.”

It felt completely silly to me, and I hid my smile,

“The worst part is that he doesn’t even go to heaven! It would be so much better, if I at least knew he was theeeeerrrrrrrrreee.” He cried, and I hugged him on the stairs where we stood, not remembering if we were going up or down.

His body shook in my arms, which made me hold more tightly. It was funny how much I didn’t care about the fish, but a tear left my eye, as I felt my son’s pain. To him, it was real, and that’s what mattered to me.

“Should we have a funeral?” I asked, finally, wiping my tear before he could see it. I couldn’t believe I was offering, but honestly, I felt like he had an emotion – and even though I did not share that emotion – I might help him work through it.

“What do you do at a funeral?” he asked, and I secretly thanked God that he hadn’t had a lot of exposure to death.

“It’s a time when we give our respects. We tell God thank you for giving us memories, like a celebration of the life. Sometimes people tell stories of the happy memories with the one who died.”

“Yeah, Let’s do that,” he said, as a calm overtook him.

He and his sister immediately began making “invitations” to the funeral, created a casket out of a paper cup, and dug a hole next to the fishpond in the back yard.

The three of us met at the pond, buried the treasure, and thanked God for giving us memories with the fish. We sang Amazing Grace, since I suppose even fish-death reminds us of the amazing grace of eternal life given to my children and me.

I’ve always wanted to be one of those “cool” moms as seen on TV. You know the ones? They wear their skinny jeans while they feed the kids chocolate chip cookies and milk and sit and discuss their school day. Their teens run in with all of their friends, (because the mom is so cool, surely any teen would want to hang out with her), and gobble up the pizza pockets and Sunny D. (That’s the way “cool moms” say “Sunny Delight.”)

But where are the “real” moms in those commercials?

Real Moms

A real mom is sitting in the bathroom, and the ENTIRE family is standing outside of the bathroom door asking “URGENT” questions like,

“What are we having for dinner?”

“Have you seen my book?”

“Doesn’t HE have to put the dishes away today, because I already did it TWO TIMES YESTERDAY!!”

A real mom doesn’t realize till dinner that her shirt has been on inside-out all day.

Real moms have library books that they have paid for three times, thinking one day they’ll find it.

Real moms lose socks in every load.

Real moms go to the store for milk, and come home with seven things…and no milk.

Real moms fit four little people (preferably her kids) with her in one bathroom stall in the airport.

Real moms know what the code for “lost toddler” is on the Kohls intercom. (Thank you, Kohls, for handling us real moms.)

Real moms wonder if their hair can last one more day unwashed without attracting a social worker’s inspection.

Real moms know evolution can’t be true or else she’d have seven arms by now.

Real moms have the super power of finding things in the fridge that aren’t even at eye level.

Real moms can listen to the conversation behind them while talking to the one in front of them.

Real moms know how to hide the green beans under the bananas on the baby food spoon, can distinguish their baby’s cry in a nursery full of screamers and recognize the meaning behind every cry: hungry, hurt, or trying to get brother into trouble.

Real moms stop and blow bubbles.

A real mom has Good Night Moon memorized, even if her youngest child is eight.

Real moms know how to read aloud in characters’ voices in bedtime stories.

Real moms spend hours…or days…distraught over their children’s behavior.

Real moms leave knee prints in the carpet.

Real moms live life at the speed of their slowest child – even the special needs one.

Real moms hurt when their children hurt.

Real moms are sad when their kids leave for college…or kindergarten.

Real moms sometimes fall in bed at night, not fitting into their skinny jeans, second-guessing their every word to their kids that day, and wondering if tomorrow will be any different.

Real moms have days when they think they will party when the last goldfish dies.

And real moms shed a tear when it does.

Because when the last goldfish dies

It means the child has grown up a bit

“Back-scratching times” are almost done.

Bedtime stories are about to be silent.

The misspellings on the funeral invitations may almost be over.

Childhood appreciates after it is gone.

When the last goldfish dies, so does a little bit of childhood; and I suppose it is buried alongside a little bit of the “real mom-hood” that goes with it.

Gotta go!

– back to being a real mom,

Terri

Proverbs 31:28 Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:

Related Posts

Why is There a Dead Bird on the Air Hockey Table? (now, buried next to the State Fair fish)
Unattended Vehicles (at the State Fair)
The Stranger’s Sketch

Why is There a Dead Bird on the Air Hockey Table?

Posted on November 25, 2013 by Terri

Dear Lindsey,

I got off to a start this morning. My oldest drove himself to school. The next three kids and I loaded into the car before Chris was even downstairs for breakfast. Off to the appointments we headed when I got a text from Chris that changed my day:

“Why is there a dead bird on the air hockey table?”

Stopped at a red light, I read the text aloud to the kids in the car, sure that my backseat held the culprits.

“[silence]”

Suddenly, the 13-yr-old in the front seat was stifling giggles that refused their restraint and started sneaking through his pursed lips in bursts.

Shocked, and trying to be strict, I subdued the humor of the text – but my own choked laughter (holding up my cup to hide my smile) led to the coffee-down-the-wrong-pipe-choke, so I prayed the light would stay red for a while as I tried to get oxygen.

That’s when the back seat spoke with remorse:

“We felt bad it died yesterday in the back yard, and we were going to bury it…”

“…But the dog was going to eat it…”

“… we couldn’t find the shovel…”

“…then Nate asked if I would throw football…”

“…and I didn’t want to have a funeral without people…”

“…and then we left for evening church in a hurry…”

At eight and ten-years-old, their voices are undistinguishable, so I couldn’t tell which one was talking when (and I was seriously just trying to breathe again), but I got the gist of their story. I only wish that Chris had not been the first to find the carcass: a messy house drives him crazy! Although I can’t think of too many people that are happy when they find a dead bird on the air hockey table.

Irresponsible!

They are not getting this “pick up after yourself” thing that I have been teaching since before they were born!

Oh my…I cannot put into words to even speak to these two right now. They know what they did was wrong!

That’s when my thoughts of frustration were interrupted by a protective (or perspective) mechanism:

Thank You, God, that we found the dead bird on the air hockey table today, and not next week when guests are here.
Thank You, God, that my kids have good hearts that had compassion for Your creation. (I am glad they were not ruined by my roadkilling a few years ago.)
Thank You for a 13-yr-old who was mature enough to see it wasn’t a life-threatening, eternal consequences moment (but that he stifled his laughter until the lesson was taught).
Thank You that they put the thing in the bug cage, so at least if it had bugs on it, they were contained in the cage…and I hope that means they didn’t actually touch the dead bird.
Thank You for creating the birds that we could fall in love with, even when we don’t know them.
Thank You that I didn’t choke to death. (And thank You that the choking reminded me to say thank You that I don’t have a brain tumor…as it always reminds me now.)
Thank You that my children will never bring a dead bird in the house again. (I believe.)
Thank You that I have children.
Thank You for the dead bird on the air hockey table that reminded me of so much for which I can be thankful.

I think it’s ironic… I was trying not to get too bent out of shape, so I made a list in my mind of what to be thankful for (my normal redirection mechanism), and I ended up being thankful for the exact thing I was trying to reframe: the dead bird on the air hockey table.

When Bad Things Happen

I think the point here is that this mechanism is applicable to bigger issues than dead birds on the air hockey table. When I go through bad times (This began during my years of massive headaches while I had young toddlers!), I have a protective mechanism of listing things (at least three each time!) for which I am thankful. It is ironic to me the number of times when I am listing thankfulness to distract me from a problem – and give me perspective – that the list goes all the way back to thanking God for the exact problem with which I started: the dead bird on the air hockey table.

I suppose one of these days, I will be able to skip the “Why?…” part and get to the “Thank You, God for even this,” faster.

A friend, Jane Zempel, spoke at my church recently about “contentment.” She told a story of figuring out what one thing is so bad in life that you would want God to change. What one thing would you get rid of? If you were granted only one thing about yourself you could change, what would it be?

“Now thank God for that one thing,” she said. “It’s amazing how when I did this, I had to force the words ‘thank You,’ but once they were said, enough times, I realized I could believe it.”

She went on to say that when we believe that God is sovereign over all, we can say thank You for even the things we don’t want, because we recognize God has a plan in even them.

When her son came home from school in tears (again) at age twelve, being teased as a “retard” for having Down Syndrome, she taught him this lesson of saying, “thank You,” even for Down Syndrome, because God had a purpose in his life. She saw that purpose thirty years later when her son told a doctor what a “blessing” Down Syndrome was to him…and it changed the doctor!

When things are rough….

When we can’t change it all…

or when we can’t change even one thing…

Let us give thanks.

Make the list now. To what do we owe God “Thank You”?

“What if you woke up today with only the things for which you said thank You yesterday?” – Peter Bonner

I am thankful for you!

In love,

Terri Brady

“In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” – 1Thes 5:18

“But godliness with contentment is great gain.” 1Tim 6:6

“I thank my God every time I remember you.” Phil 1:3

Related Posts

The Book is Here!

Posted on October 21, 2013 by Terri

Introducing: Letters to Lindsey in book form!

Thanks to my husband’s initiative and his incredible, creative team; thanks to you who requested it; and thanks to the late Russ Mack who persistently encouraged it: Letters to Lindsey (the book) is available! With a foreword by Laurie Woodward and introduction by my best-selling husband Chris, let the stories begin! The chronicled journeys through infertility and the brain tumor survival, tea parties and fishing trips, along with enflamed underwear (size 4T) on a chandelier are all decorated with my kids’ cute quotes in Post-It note form. It’s a short read, a long read or anything in-between. So curl up with a blanket in front of the fire, make some fresh popcorn and hot chocolate, (or just go to the beach!) and relish some quiet reading time as you laugh with me, cry with me, and grow with me!

Enjoy!

-Terri Brady

Readers (you!) in line for book-signing in Milwaukee, WI.

Tough Breaks

Posted on October 11, 2013 by Terri

Para español, haga clic aquí

Dear Lindsey,

“Mom,” my eight-year-old began last week, “could you please call my coach and let knee-pain him know I can’t play tonight, because I cracked my leg.”

Seeing he was walking fine, I smiled inside (remembering my own “broken leg” claims of childhood) and asked how it happened. He explained he had been playing soccer with his brother. Five years his elder, that particular brother can be a little over-competitive with his already-powerful kick.

“Did he miss the ball and kick you? Or did you fall? What happened?” I prodded, guessing there might be a little tattling involved.

“He kicked the ball ‘as hard as he could’ [a phrase that always makes me smile inside] and I tried to stop it.”

“Oh my! That’s the kind of shot I stopped one time, and I couldn’t use my shoulder for a year!” I said. “Well did you at least stop him from getting the goal?” I jested to make light of the situation.

“No.” He sulked, and I stopped suspecting his purpose of getting his brother in trouble.

“No? You tried to stop it and it hit you so hard you hurt your leg, but it still went in?”

“No,” he complained, “I tried to kick it really hard, but I missed the ball completely.”

“You missed the ball? Then how did you hurt your leg; did you kick the ground?” I dragged the story out of him.

“No. I didn’t hit anything. But I kicked so hard, I cracked my leg, because I heard it crack,” he surmised.

I relished in the joy of motherhood.

“Well, bud, I don’t think you broke it, so you are probably ok for practice tonight. Besides, you are scrimmaging the girls. Your team needs you!”

“No, Mom,” the concern in his voice was obvious. “There is no way I can play in my scrimmage tonight.”

Uh oh…I smelled a teachable moment. What can I say to encourage him away from the wimpy attitude that tries to stop us all when the “going gets tough”?

“Bradys play hurt!“? -no…he’s heard that one already.

Story! I need a story!

My kids (like us adults) always learn the best through a relevant story. For me, when it is told through a third-party’s eyes, it takes the offense away and allows learning without feeling attacked. Certainly I could think of someone overcoming hardship that would relate to this eight-year-old’s heart and mind. Then I remembered an oldie but goodie from his very own oldest brother (whom I knew this younger son would never see as “wimpy”). I started my “once upon a time…” voice with the following true story – but in eight-year-old terms, like, “You know what happened next?” to keep his attention:

When your big brother was eleven…

(From my previous Letter, “Itching to be Tough,” which was inspired by this conversation with my eight-year-old last week, but that day I told it to him in younger terms.)

When Casey was about eleven, I remember that sometimes even he, like many eleven-year-old boys would cry, or fight wimpiness. I prayed that God would help to make him strong and tough.

The very next day, Casey got poison ivy! It was just a little patch, but Casey thought he would have to skip his soccer game. I told him I thought he needed to “play hurt,” because it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

That night, the rash got worse. A lot worse! It was on his face, his belly, his legs and his feet! He itched SO BAD, I prayed that God would take the poison ivy away! fast!

But the next day, Casey got out of bed and you know what he did? He put on his soccer uniform to go play the game!

I couldn’t believe it! Then I realized what a champion he became when he overcame the poison ivy! I thought back to my prayer just days prior and realized that maybe the poison ivy WAS the answer to my first prayer: that God would make Casey tough, because when I saw him play even though he had poison ivy, I realized my prayer was answered.

I wonder if God ever laughs at me?! One moment, I prayed that Casey would become a warrior, and then when God allowed the exact thing that would make him tough (poison ivy), I immediately prayed it would be taken away. Lucky for me, God continued with His plan, and didn’t just listen to my request for the “easy way out.”

Not only did Casey play for his team that day, but he scored a goal!

“Maybe sometimes God allows the struggles so that we can gain the strength we need to persevere,” I told my young son (telling him about Romans 5:3-5) as I finished the story of his brother, hoping it would make an impact on his own toughness factor for the night.

He sat pensively silent. I gloated at my mothering ability to teach through a third-party story. I hoped he got the parallels to his own soccer-scrimmage dilemma. I got a little choked up, thinking about my now sixteen-year-old who has become such a man.

Then the eight-year-old broke into my prideful thoughts, “Well, that is a good story with poison ivy, Mom, but MY cracked leg is a much bigger problem!”

Ha! Don’t we always believe “our mule carries the bigger load”?

I told him he could let the coach know that he “popped” his knee, and that he might need to take it lightly that night.

images-3 I would say that the lesson wasn’t learned, but alas, he DID play in his scrimmage that night… “broken leg” and all. His team was down 2-0 at half-time, but came back in the second half to win the game against the girls. (He wanted me to be sure and tell you that part.)

Enjoying motherhood,

Terri

Itching to be Tough

Posted on October 9, 2013 by Terri

Para español, haga clic aquí

Dear Lindsey,

He was struggling between boyhood and manhood. Like a tadpole learning to cope with legs instead of a tail, he was learning to live with mechanisms different from his youth. Tears came too easily for this eleven-year-old and I knew they would need to lessen as his body matured to man.

One night, after an afternoon bout of his crying over someone changing rules in a game or other mildly unjust action, I intently prayed for him to grow up to be the man God intended:

“God please make my son tough.

–       The kind of tough that can withstand struggles.

–       The kind of tough that can lift the weights for his eventual family.

–       The kind of tough that perseveres.

–       The kind of tough that plays hurt.

– The kind of tough that is a warrior for You.”

I prayed that God would reveal my own “mom-weaknesses” where I may have been catering to my son’s softer side, hindering his growth to manhood.

The day after my fervent prayer, a rash broke out on his belly. He itched and whined, and frankly, made a big deal of it. It did look itchy and uncomfortable, to say the least, but the entire rash was less than the size of my hand. It wasn’t really obvious what it was, but we suspected poison ivy.

“Mom, there’s no way I can play in my soccer game tomorrow!” he said.

“Bud, I know it itches, but once you see that ball on the field, I bet the itching will be less than your desire for a goal. Besides, your team needs you!” I said as I dutifully washed the bumps in special soap, put some Calamine on it and gave him Benedryl.

That night, I stayed up late into my “productive hours,” getting ready for the Mom-starting-gun to make its sound again the following day. As I passed his room at 2am, I saw my poor son sitting up on his bed, miserably hugging himself, rocking back and forth while tears streamed down his swollen cheeks. The spots had spread like the ivy that caused them – up from his chest to his neck and face, swelling one of his eyes almost closed. It grew down from his belly, hitting his inner thighs and continued to his feet.

He. Was. Miserable.

I gave him more Benedryl, coated what I could with more Calamine, and realized there was really nothing more I could do until we got to a physician. I sat quietly on his bed, softly stroked his back, and silently prayed:

“Dear Lord. You know the pain in my son today. You KNOW how badly he is suffering with this itchiness and how long it can last. Please, God, take the poison ivy away and restore his skin to fully healed.”

As I lay in bed that night, I thought of his soccer game the following day, and how the coach would not understand that he would miss “because of poison ivy.” I imagined a phone call I would make, emphasizing how BAD the poison ivy was: it was not just a couple spots on his belly!

When I woke in the morning, I was surprised to see my son already awake. He stood, fully dressed in game-attire, looking at himself in the mirror while he applied his own Calamine.

“I can either sit here and itch, or I can play a game for my team. I’m choosing to play.” He answered the question I hadn’t asked.

I was in shock. I started to make excuses and tell how the rash was more intense than it originally looked; how much worse it might itch with sweat; I started to wonder if others could get it, and a million other excuses for him not to go out of the house looking like a swollen monster covered in pink paint.

But my prayers from two nights before were answered, and my “mom-weaknesses” were silenced.

Not only did he play for his team that day, but he scored a goal! A tough boy became a man – and his body caught up later.

(Note: If he had not come up with the idea himself, I don’t know that I would have pushed him to play that game. I think parenthood is a dance between compassion and pressure. Without the first, the latter causes pain and not necessarily change. (Ephesians 6:4))

I don’t suppose “toughness” is really the lack of tears, nor lack of fears, but the ability to push through yourself for your team, your family or someone beyond the one in your uncomfortable skin.

I thought back to my prayer just days prior and wondered if God ever laughs at me?! One moment, I was praying my son would become a warrior, and then when He allowed the very thing that would make him tough, I immediately prayed it would be taken away.

I am thankful God continued with His plan, and didn’t allow me to get in the way.

Maybe there are some cases of “poison ivy” in life for which we should be thankful instead of resentful: the struggles that made us strong; the trials that toughened our skin; the resistance that built muscles.

Or maybe there are some in my life right now from which I should be learning instead of running?

Because I guess answered prayers are sometimes disguised as itchy monsters covered in pink paint….before the goal is scored.

In love,

Terri

Romans 5: 3-5: Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

“We pray for silver, but God often gives us gold instead.” – Martin Luther

Bradys Play Hurt
A Soldier’s Perspective
The Uniform of Leadership is Thick Skin (by Chris Brady)
Holland or Italy: Just Passing Through

Bradys Play Hurt

Posted on October 7, 2013 by Terri

Para español, haga clic aquí

Dear Lindsey,

I have decided I know why it is called, “roughhousing”: because it is rough on my HOUSE! Boys are boys! When our oldest was barely one-year-old, “wrestling with dad” became the most exciting activity of the day. It progressed well into toddlerhood and became training ground for toughness with each of our three boys. Chris and Casey spent hours tumbling on the floor and showed such a different relationship than my own with my son (or my relationship with my husband, for that matter!). The game always seemed to come to a halt in tears, as the toddler would succumb to exhaustion, realizing he was “whooped.” Chris wanted to raise our boys to be tough though, and he would never let their game end with crying.

“Brady’s play hurt!” Chris (knowing that his son was not really injured) would egg a four-year-old Casey on – never rewarding his sniveling. Making it fun so the toddler would continue playing, Chris would then let enough time pass that tears were forgotten, and he could end the game on a good note.

This game was daily, no maybe hourly! Wrestling with Daddy still occurs in this house with teenagers…only louder!

One particular day of toddlerhood, though, the game was declared “over,” and Chris rested his eyes, lying down on the couch in our playroom while Casey played with Legos. After some time, the four-year-old suddenly ran and jumped on the couch, landing on Chris’s mid-section, startling Chris from sleep to a shout: “Owwww! Get off of me!”

Casey got a cute twinkle in his eye and said,

“Come on, Dad! Bradys play hurt!”

I laughed out loud!

And the wrestling continued.

Oh my! The number of times the saying goes through my head outnumbers the wrestling events where it was created.

When I want to give up in tears,

when I want to make excuses for my mood,

when I want to scream in exhaustion, “I can’t get it all done!”

I go back to the moment with my four-year-old and am reminded: “Bradys play hurt,” and I stay in the game …just one more day.

Blessings,

Terri

Philippians 4:13: I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.

Hebrews 12:1: Therefore let us also, seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us,…

1 Corinthians 9:27: but I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified.

Orange Signs of Protection

Posted on July 16, 2013 by Terri

Dear Lindsey,

I intentionally arrived twenty minutes early to avoid my son going to the dorms after practice – which would only accentuate the point that his friends were staying, but he was not. When arriving at the practice field, I could see my 13-yr-old in the pack already walking off the field in the opposite direction, despite my early arrival. I realized I would need to pick him up at the University Towers, one mile off of the far end of the field (where I could not drive). I picked the 16-yr-old up from the stadium behind me, and we hurried to the parking garage to retrieve the car.

At the parking lot exit, the one-way sign pointed in a direction opposite my desire. I went a

mile clockwise to get back to about 50 yards from the entrance to the parking garage. (Maybe I should have just gone the wrong way for 50 yards!)

I tried to turn left at Cate Ave, when I saw the LED sign that said, “Cate Ave closed 5/13 – 8/13.” Obviously, this teen soccer camp was my first visit to the college since 5/13. I turned around again and headed in a three-mile circle to get to the other side of Cate – to where the University Towers were.

As I arrived at the dorm, there were teenagers everywhere. The stench of the players filled the lobby, making me wish there were another door through which I could wait. The variety of teenage maturity never ceases to amaze me. Some looked like young puppies, wet behind the ears, and holding a stature of four-foot-something; others, though separated by just a few years, exhibited bodies ready for the cover of GQ, towering over six feet. The emotional maturity of the room had equal variance.

My younger son droopily walked toward me, his sweat-covered clothing evidencing his intense workout on a hot Carolina day.

The third door of the car barely closed when he started. “I understand you don’t want me to, but can I just know the reasons you don’t want me to stay overnight?” he said, resigned as he sat in the car behind his brother.

This conversation was held over from the previous week, when he had realized his friends were staying at the all-night soccer camp, but he and his brother were not. The first day of camp departure had only reopened the wounds.

I repeated my stand: “Dad and I prayed about it and decided this was best for our family.”

“Don’t you trust me?” He asked – hurt, yet clearly ready to lock horns.

“I do trust you. You are SO trustworthy, and please do not take personal offense at our decision!”

Thoughts of explanation went through my mind: “Chris and I have been traveling; we haven’t been a family in one house in several nights. Casey just came home from church camp and doesn’t need four more nights out of his bed. Fatigue leads to injury, and you both have a big competition in Greensboro the day this camp ends. I trust you, but I can’t say the same about all of the teens – up to college-age – that are in the building. We prayed and did not have peace leaving you overnight, so we chose to bring you both home each night.”

“A thirty-minute commute to your own bed?! Who wouldn’t want that?!” I said aloud with a lightened voice, trying to change the heavy mood of the car.

I started to turn to enter highway 40, but was blocked by a sideways police car and

flashing lights. I continued straight instead, into uncharted territory, looking for another way home.

Our conversation volley continued, until I finally said with love, “Trust me, bud. The best way I can say it is that we want what’s best for YOU.”

Man! The road came to another road closure. It sent me on a detour that ended up in a loop that circled around to five miles before I would have originally entered the highway! “This is so frustrating! I just want to go home!” was in my head, when my son’s boiling became noticeable as well. I could tell he disagreed with our decision to keep him home, yet was getting control of his attitude, and I needed to do the same.

I spoke out loud to my teens, figuring I would try to teach while reigning in my irritation.

“A friend was telling me about her BSF Bible study leader’s lesson on Joseph last week. Do you remember what happened to Joseph?”

They answered about his being sold into slavery by his brothers and taken to Egypt. (Genesis 37 – 50)

“But then what happened?”

The boys shared in the story telling. Through their low Eeyore-toned voices, I wondered if their eyes were rolling and thoughts were saying, “Here Mom goes again…” but they continued telling of how Joseph worked hard and became the lead servant, so he was brought into the palace of a leader of Egypt, Potiphar, and became his right-hand man.

“And then?” I asked, impressed at their memory of details.

They continued by saying that Joseph was put into jail, because Potiphar’s wife accused him of something he didn’t do.

“Yes! And THAT is where my friend’s story started. She was saying that jail could have been a good thing at that point.”

“Good?” Nate asked, holding onto his fight-ready mood, knowing jail didn’t sound like a good thing. I pictured his one eyebrow raised while the opposite top lip crunched up leaving his mouth open – his normal questioning facial features.

“My friend said that jail may have protected Joseph. Maybe jail prevented him from giving in to temptation for Potiphar’s wife if she had persisted. The Bible actually says we will never be tempted beyond our ability to resist (1Cor 10:13), so maybe God was actually protecting Joseph by removing him from the situation. I guess I think sometimes protection may feel like jail, but please know that we love you and are only trying to do what we think is best as parents to protect you.”

Oooh. Silence in the car. “I wonder if the point made as much sense to them as it did to me,” I mused at my motherhood. Then I almost laughed out loud when I realized that maybe the detours on the road that night were a “jail” that God was using to protect me as well.

My thirty-minute trip was taking over an hour on the return home due to detours, but at this moment, I was thankful for the extra time in the car. Maybe the detours were for such a conversation? Maybe the detours were for my own protection from some reckless car on the original route? Maybe the detours were for… “Ice Cream!” I saw a favorite stop ahead, now recognizing where we were. We stopped and got something all those kids in the dorm would certainly be missing!

There are so many parallels to the closed roads in my path that night:

– Home foreclosure may just be taking my friend to the right rental neighborhood where someone needs her smile.

– A deferred college application may be leading that young lady to choose the college where her future spouse will be.

– A job loss may protect someone from an ethical temptation that otherwise would have been difficult to resist, or it may be directing him to a new job with a better opportunity for his growth.

– Jochobed may have thought it a horrible “detour” when she was forced to give up her baby due to oppressive captors, yet her God-ordained “detour” led her baby Moses to grow up to free her nation from slavery. (Exodus 2)

– Joseph’s jail time may have protected him from Potiphar’s wife’s possibly tempting situation, but it definitely put him in the right place at the right time to eventually be promoted by Pharaoh. His new position of high authority allowed him to save Egypt and even his own family in Israel during a time of famine.

God’s detours are not always denials. They are not for us to scream, “How dare God change my plans!” ha! What we see as “detours” may be His gracious protection and direction. I can’t say I am thrilled when I see the “orange sign” ahead, but I can trust the Writer of the arrow as I follow. Of course, I am grateful for the ice cream stops along the way! 🙂

God bless,

Terri

“IF” (If My Daddy Had Not Been Struck By Lightning)– by my friend, Sarah Ascol

Are You a Basket Case?

Miscarriages, Slow Toddlers and Knees

Out of My Mind (with a Brain Tumor) Part I

When We Don’t See a Purpose

Homeschooling Missing Ingredients (Mistakes I’ve Made)

Posted on May 17, 2013 by Terri

Dear Lindsey

The coupons began as a spontaneous purchase at Walgreens, although I haven’t seen them there lately, so we have made our own. One coupon says, “Your choice of restaurant the next time we eat out.” Another says, “Multiply your snacks by two today,” and a very memorable one said, “You make the snack, whatever you want, and Mom has to eat a bite.”

Hmm. Why do I do these things? I was nervous when they decided to redeem that coupon!

Fortunately, my children were nice (nicer than I probably would have been to my own mother when I was their age! LOL!) and decided that they would try to make peanut butter icing, knowing my love for peanut butter. The problem was that this 6 and 7-yr-old could not find a recipe, so they just guessed. They were so excited working together. I walked through the kitchen and saw my Kitchen Aid mixer on the counter as if this were a professional production. I tried to stay out of sight, but I enjoyed their whispers from a distance.

“No, no, no! I don’t think there’s baking powder in frosting!” I heard J.R. say, “I’m pretty sure there’s vanilla, though.”

“It looks like peanut butter mush!” they cackled and then hushed each other so I wouldn’t hear their surprise.

“Mmm, it’s good mush,” Christine said, and I pictured her eyes sparkling as she took her taste-test finger out of her mouth.

“What’s that white stuff in frosting?” she asked. “I think that’s what’s missing.”

“Oh yeah!! Shortening!” he yelled, and I heard his motions climbing the counter to get to the cupboard behind the prep sink.

I cringed from my office, wondering what kind of sick mind I had the day I thought that coupon was a good one to offer. Why didn’t I say DAD had to taste it?!

“Oh Mom–my!” they sang in a doorbell-toned duet. “It’s ready for you to taste!” and the giggles filled the room.

I rounded the corner to see the powdered sugar box empty, with clear handprints in its dust all over the island. Measuring spoons were out, though I wondered what they had measured, since they didn’t have a recipe. I did not see reptiles or worms present, so I thought it must be safe for eating. With all the courage I could muster, I took the spatula from JR’s hand, where it had been preloaded with peanut butter icing, and took a lick.

“Not bad!” I said, and they squealed with pride.

So cute!

I happened to have some ooey gooey chocolate cookies left over from Christmas in the freezer, so we thawed them and sandwiched the icing between two cookies. Delicious! Really!

When I began homeschooling, I think I wanted a recipe to follow, but yet I LOVED being able to cater the learning to each individual child! I went with what I knew, and then added some things and subtracted some things. And I still do today! But just like in Christine and JR’s recipe, there are certain things I want to keep out. (By the way, that’s the real recipe they invented to the right. Use with caution! 🙂 )

Some Homeschooling Mistakes Along the Way

Although I love lists, this one is not my favorite: my list of mistakes. (And it is longer than could be captured on any blog and still growing!) However, I am grateful I learned from some of these…at least once so far, anyway.

Bringing school home: When I admitted to a dear friend, Sham Palomaki, that I never felt like I was completing a school day right, she said sweetly, “It sounds like maybe you are bringing school home instead of homeschooling.” I immediately knew what she meant, and I was guilty as charged! I had a chalkboard on the wall, and even had a 1950’s school desk I found at a garage sale! I was “teacher” during school hours, and “Mom” some time later. School wasn’t done until that little book said it was done. Missing ingredient: Home.
Routine Rut: Routine is great! We start at the same time (approximately) each day. We do subjects in the same order (although for the first year, I wrote the subjects down on popsicle sticks and allowed him to rearrange the sticks daily). But routine can lead to ruts of “unfun” hours end on end. Too often, I have become a slave master, cracking a whip, worried about the time and when summer break (for me!) would begin. I had an agenda and it needed to be met. Similar to “putting the home in school,” I realized I needed to flex. We made family sandwiches (with mom on the bottom, of course – thanks, Marcia Robinson, for that idea), learned multiplication of 7’s using football guys, added recess, put in a field trip or special lecture series by Dad (since he is at home during the day), and my older two keep telling my younger two that we used to have “math substitute” once a week. (Shhh. Those two are doing fine with math every day!) Missing Ingredient: Laughter
Keeping up with Joneses: We know that comparison is the root of unhappiness, and I really didn’t think I could be that way. I mean, my kids are the best kids on earth, so how could comparing with any others ever lead to unhappiness? Well, when someone says, “We accidentally hit an opossum in our car last night, so we decided to scoop it up and take it home for science dissection,” I realized “I am completely unworthy to ever be called a homeschool mom.” (LOL, Thanks, Wendy Lukonen, my hero!) “Keeping up with the Joneses” does two things: 1. It makes me feel like I should be doing something different in homeschooling. 2. Any moment I take thinking about “what I should have done” takes away a time where I could be encouraging another precious homeschool mom for doing her great job. I decided that Mrs. Jones was chosen to homeschool her kids. I am called to homeschool mine; no comparison allowed. Missing ingredient: contentment
Low Expectations for my kids: I watched Casey’s math test “grades” dwindle. I was never much for keeping grades. Grades seemed to be for communicating between teacher and parents how well a student was performing. I never bothered. Instead, I looked for mastery. If he missed problems, he had to re-do them until he could do them well. Red pen? Optional. One day, I realized Casey was not getting 100% of his problems correct…ever. Knowing my kid, I realized he was capable, and completely unmotivated. Why would he care? I had no expectation for him to meet. The above “coupon” program was instituted to encourage 100% on the first try of a math assessment (test). It was amazing how as soon as there was incentive, he checked and doublechecked his work before turning it in. He had never known that I expected 100%, because I had communicated otherwise. I soon recognized other areas of my low expectations: excellence of chores, cleanliness of rooms, good attitude, edification of siblings, etc. Ugh! Writing this reminds me of how much I still need to do! Missing ingredient: great expectations.
Too Many Activities: Just because opportunity knocks, doesn’t mean we have to answer it. We could go to a co-op all day Thursdays, play homeschool soccer on Friday mornings, go to homeschool art class on Monday afternoons; don’t forget library story hour next door – it’s so convenient it’s the same day and free! And shouldn’t Christine get homeschool gymnastics on Wednesday afternoons, since her brothers’ soccer dominates our evenings? Oh, and that worldview class at church seems too good to be true! But let’s not forget the “normal” evening activities of church choirs, music lessons and Awanas (Scripture memory). Not to mention that I went to Bible Study Fellowship one morning/week for 8 years. Wow. Some years, my kids did so much school in the car that I called them “Road Scholars” :). Missing ingredient: school.
Hungering for Encouragement: It can be a lonely world for homeschool moms. There is no one to say, “Your kids are awesome; here’s an ‘A’.” Or “I think your child should be invited to this honors class.” I must admit that there were many times when I would hear of awards given or school rankings of similarly aged public school neighbors and I would think, “I wish my kid got noticed.” I am embarrassed to say that I even sent the standardized test scores to the grandparents the first year of homeschool – just wishing someone would say, “You are doing a good job. Maybe you are not messing them up after all.” I know Col 3:23 says to do all for the glory of God, not man, so why does this desire creep back into me so often? Can’t I get just a little glory for me? Just a little glory for my kids? Ha! Do I really forget WHO is in charge of my homeschool? I have had to go back to that original list of “why homeschool” so many times. One of the reasons I homeschool was not, “So I can be recognized that I did a good job.” It was not, “So my child can get accolades from his peers.” But the biggest reason was so my child will hear, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” Missing Ingredient: Eternal focus
Being Puffed Up: Too often on this journey, pride has reared its ugly head. It is difficult when taking a stand and walking against the crowd in any direction not to feel a bit of excitement when your way works! But the only way that happens is because God is at work. There were times I think I was homeschooling to “prove a point” instead of “do what was right.” When the “I’ll show them,” negative attitude wins over the “I’ll serve the Lord” attitude, the fall awaits. 1 Samuel 2:3 says, “Do not keep talking so proudly or let your mouth speak such arrogance, for the LORD is a God who knows,  and by him deeds are weighed.” This showed most clearly when we debated on sending our oldest son to high school. We had various reasons that looked like this particular Christian school could be a good opportunity for Casey: more Godly men leading as examples; competitive sports; Christian friends, etc. Casey asked us not to send him. My heart ached to have him (and frankly his good example) at home all day. Through prayer, we realized that we really felt it was the right thing to do for him and his wellbeing. Dark voices began echoing in my head, “But your identity is a homeschool mom of four! Everyone is going to know you “failed”! You’re quitting! You must not have really believed what you set out to prove!” and on and on. Chris actively wanted Casey to go to high school, but left the decision to me after his input. I analyzed five different ways of homeschooling through high school. I resisted the change in all of my normal ways – coming up with my plan B, C and D. But one morning, in silent prayer (amazing how many realizations happen on that porch while the birds sing in my ear), I realized that it was meant to be. As a friend, Ann Winters, says, “God is always on Plan A. Always.” I called the school and arranged a tour. The following fall, I sat in the bleachers watching him play high school soccer as the only starting freshman, and a man came over to me and said, “Casey is the answer to my prayers for a friend for my son.” I could hardly choke words out in reply. My prayers had been answered as well. Missing Ingredient: humility to accept when God’s plan wasn’t my plan A.

So when we add laughter to great expectations, humility with contentment, and some home along with school, I suppose we end up with homeschool. It sometimes looks like peanut butter mush, but sandwiched between two cookies of love, it is really delicious. Really!

I recently came across a blog where a man thanked his wife for homeschooling their children. He was celebrating her “retirement from teaching,” since their youngest was graduating from homeschool. What an encouragement for those of us on the journey! A copy and link are pasted below.

God bless,

Terri Brady

——–

Praising a ‘Retired’ Home School Mom

By Marty Duren , CP Op-Ed Contributor

May 13, 2013|10:42 am

The homeschool teacher who taught my children is retiring after a stellar twenty-three year career.

In the next few days we will withdraw our youngest child from her homeschool, high-school program. She then will prepare for taking the GED test in the next few weeks. For Sonya, my wife, it ends a twenty-three year homeschool teaching career.

When we made the decision to start homeschooling our oldest daughter it was not because we heard a word from God. It was not because we thought Deuteronomy 6 applied to readin’, ritin’, and ‘rithmetic. Nor was it because we were on an anti-public school tirade.

It was pretty simple. When our oldest daughter was 5 years old we lived in the country where I pastored a church. It was 10 miles each way to kindergarten. If we drove her to school we faced forty miles a day round-trips. If we put her on the bus she would board around 7:30 in the morning and return around 5:00 in the afternoon every day. That was not appealing. Each school bus, like the one she would ride, had kids from K-12. That was not appealing, either.

So, we decided to homeschool.

As is the case with most homeschool families, Mom carried most of the responsibility. After twenty-three years and three kids my wife has done at least 98% of the teaching, grading, record keeping, encouraging, reproving, threatening, laughing and crying. I probably threatened worse judgments but she did more of it.

She sought the best deals on curriculum every summer as well as determining what of our old curriculum we could sell. And, she determined what we had to keep for another child or two coming through.

She told me what math I had to do with which kid on what night. She oversaw so many science experiments we could not even count.

Some of them actually worked.

All three of our kids could read, because of her emphasis on phonics, before they started school. One, however, sandbagged all the way through first grade acting as if he did now how. It was only when she informed him he would need to repeat first grade Reading that he picked up a book and, to her amazement, started reading it to her. I feel certain a loud lecture soon followed.

She read aloud more books than anyone could count. Classics, modern stories, the Redwall series, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, dozens of Agatha Christie mysteries. Thousands of pages, perhaps tens of thousands. Our youngest preferred to read than be read to. Finally Sonya would get two copies of the same book so they could alternately read aloud and follow along. To this day all our kids read, read widely and read much.

One thing instilled in our kids was a love of learning. I have heard more than one person say over the years they never picked up another book after college. Sonya never went to college but has picked up books ever since high school. She modeled learning, both biblical and the “schoolish” type, to our three. Education really should not be about reports and finishing courses, anyway. Education should be about creating the desire to learn and freeing the ability to do it.

We are not that home school family where each kid got a full-ride scholarship to Harvard while finding a cure for a major disease over the kitchen sink after successfully suing the government over the freedom of education. No, we had to evaluate every spring whether we would do it again in the fall. We also were not that family who went into the yard, picked a couple of dandelions and marked science off for the day. Sonya made sure there was structure. Field trips were planned judiciously. Going shopping did not count as economics. Well, not often…

Our middle child, and only boy, hated school (except for the reading part) and fought it every step of the way. He did not care for college either. But he is gainfully employed, promoted three times in a single year on his job. Our oldest got a scholarship and finished a philosophy degree at a state university. She helps run a coffee shop and thinks about the meaning of drinking coffee. Our youngest is in the choosing college phase. All three graduated at least a year early.

A local school principal once told me that, of all the homeschoolers she had ever seen, Sonya was the only one who did it right. It might have been hyperbole, but it was encouraging.

Sonya Duren passed up the choice to have a “career” so she could pour the best of herself into the three to whom God entrusted us. We forewent a lot of things to buy school supplies, books; VHS lecture tapes, DVDs and entire curriculum sets. Anything you see in the Bible about the rewards of sacrifice is embodied in her.

So, she “retires” this year with no pension, no admiring colleagues, no principal’s speech, no plaque, and no pension. She just retires having changed three lives. Not to mention my unending appreciation and admiration.

The column was first published on Marty Duren’s blog, Kingdom in the Midst.

Marty Duren is a former pastor, Christ follower, husband, father, writer, social media strategist and general provocateur who lives in Hermitage, TN. His blog, Kingdom in the Midst can be found at www.martyduren.com.

Related Letters to Lindsey:

It Began as a Walk in the Park (my homeschool beginnings)
Throwing Myself Under the (School) Bus (Reasons I homeschool)
Straight Line Crooked Line (Comparison, how to handle it)

Throwing Myself Under the (School) Bus

Posted on May 15, 2013 by Terri

Dear Lindsey,

Some of the most entertaining responses I have received when I said I homeschooled were:

“And you still have your hair?! That is amazing!” (Thanks, Melinda!)
“If I homeschooled, all that my kids would know how to do is shop at Target!” (Thanks for not homeschooling, my friend 🙂 .)
“I could never spend that much time with my kids; [and even worse,] they would never want to spend that much time with me!” (Thanks, lady at the park.)

Many feel compelled to tell me why they don’t homeschool – which really isn’t necessary – I know it is not for everyone. I am not a homeschool Nazi who thinks there is only one way to do well for your children. I have no vendetta against public school; I love all of my friends who send their kids to school; and I pretty much adore most of the teachers I have met.

More and more often, I hear, “How do you do that?” or “I wish I had done that.” And my favorite response: “Can you tell me why you would do that?” (Thank you, drug store employee!)

Children Who…

Chris explained to me one day, “I don’t look at our children as clay that we should mold, but as seeds God entrusted to us, and we should provide the best garden for their growth.”

The educational methods we have chosen are purposeful to allow our four children to grow to be adults who would:

Glorify the Lord
Reach their fullest potential
Are Hardworking (Prov 13:4)
Have a good attitude, showing the fruits of the Spirit (Gal 5:22)
Are leaders in their homes, their churches, communities, and country

In summary, the principles we would like to instill would raise happy, healthy, productive Christian Americans.

The Princess Bride Story (sort of)

Have you heard this story about a princess? She was of marrying age, so her father began his search for the right man to whom he would promise his daughter’s hand in marriage. Man after man lined up, trying to impress the king to win his favor and take his daughter’s hand. A chariot race was arranged on the dirt path at the edge of the mountain and the husband wannabes prepared their horses and carriages for the show. One man stepped forward to gain the king’s attention and said, “I would like your daughter to ride with me; I will get her within one foot of the cliff’s edge and bring her safely to the end of the race.”

The next man could not be outdone, so he had a different promise: “Sir, I would love to win your favor so much that I will get your daughter within one INCH of the cliff’s edge and bring her safely to the race’s end.”

The third man walked slowly toward the king. He meekly began, “Sir, your daughter is of such value; I would not risk getting her anywhere near the edge of the cliff. I will deliver her safely, in the right time, as far from the cliff’s edge as I can.”

The king cancelled the race and promised the daughter’s hand to the third suitor who promised her safety.

Why Homeschool?

I suppose I feel as if a King has entrusted four children to me, and I want to deliver them

back to Him as safely as I am able. That is not to say that someone who does not homeschool is sending children over the edge of some cliff! Hear me out: I have met MANY public school educated people who are far from the edge of any cliffs themselves (including my perfect husband and perfect me! LOL).

…

“I can say that we have tried all kinds of schooling for our four kids: public school, private school and homeschool, and none of them works!” – Stephen Davey, tongue in cheek

Principal’s Principles

“Methods are many.

Principles are few.

Methods always change.

Principles never do.”

Homeschooling is not a principle in the Brady house; it is a method. This may be obvious since we currently have two in school and two schooling at home. This school year of 50-50 has shed light on both sides of the schooling methods, and spurred me to write you.

I have heard that data shows that the factor that is most influential over a child’s education is the parents’ active involvement in the education – whichever method is chosen.

“The philosophy of the schoolroom in one generation will be the philosophy of the government in the next,” Abraham Lincoln said. If that statement is true, then we parents had better know, and heartily agree with the philosophy of whatever schoolroom in which our children spend their weeks. (An article and a two minute video below tell a little bit about “Common Core,” a new classroom curriculum which has already started in 45 states. There is a core philosophy being mandated by the government, so I guess in those states, Lincoln’s quote could be restated: “The philosophy of the government in THIS generation will be the philosophy of the schoolroom, too.” But I digress…)

Normally, I would put a list of “recommended reading” at the end of a Letter, but the recommended reading here is practically more important than this Letter! So I want to include it here. Whether you homeschool, public school or private school, these books should be required reading for any parent:

The Reasons We Homeschool:

In her book, Debra Bell recommends writing down WHY you homeschool. (And I would recommend writing down WHAT YOU WANT AT THE OTHER END OF SCHOOL whichever method of schooling you choose – to keep yourself accountable to your principles.) This list has kept me “in” many times when the “bad wolf” was whispering contrary thoughts in my head; but it has also guided many decisions of ours, “Should we hire a teacher?” “Should we participate in a homeschool group?” “Should I offer to teach other like-minded families in a group or start our own school?” to name a few. We just look at how those decisions affect (or don’t affect) this list of benefits and then decide.

This list will be different for all families. Just because some of these are available to homeschoolers does NOT mean that these benefits are not available to public school or private school.

Brady Family: goals and benefits of homeschooling

Biblical values being taught and “caught” – consistent without wavering based on denominations, legalism, or tolerance. This includes consistent discipline – not 6 hours of one way, and then a totally different magnitude at home.
Closely knit family relationships. No age-group segregation to foster segregation within a family. Friends of all ages.
Flexible schedule for travel, neighbors in need, and visitors.
Speed of learning catered to individual and/or individual subject. Teach at a 1st grade level in reading, but 3rd grade in math, for example.
Style of learning catered to the individual Spoon-feeding methods and memorization versus self-teaching and reading classics; audio learning versus visual versus kinesthetic learning methods, etc.
Avoid negative comparison or labeling by people who don’t necessarily have my kids’ best interest in mind or don’t love them the way I do.
Avoid unnecessary negative influence of peers, teachers, or bullies.
Subjects of MY choice, based on my priorities: Bible, Employment, Self-employment, Business ownership and Investment quadrants of Cashflow (by Kiyosaki), outdoor play, music lessons, languages, people skills, etc.
1. Once they have learned to read, they should be able to read to learn in any subject so they can take that skill to be life-long learners.
Emphasize learning and mastery, not grades, standardized tests or brownie points.
1. Focus on learning to think, not learning what to think (DeMille)

10. Be influenced by other admirable homeschoolers.

11. Learn through experience. Learn history through traveling with Chris, etc. I will know what they have learned, so when we travel (even to grocery store!), I will be able to point out what applies to them at their level.

FAQ’s of Homeschooling:

Is it legal?
1. YES! Unless the government says our children are not our own…which unfortunately seems to be too common of a trend in what I see. Go to the Homeschool Legal Defense Association website to see legal requirements for your state: www.hslda.org
What about socialization?
1. Yep. Schools are better at teaching socialism. Haha! J
2. I asked this question about socialization originally of a homeschool mother and she said, “Do you want your 5-yr-old to learn social skills from another 5-yr-old? Or an adult?” Good point.
3. When I began, I coerced 3 or 4 good friends to do it with me. (OK – they say I dragged them into it – but over a decade later, and they have helped guide me as much or more than any opposite force.) There was no “trend” of friends to follow, but homeschoolers had laid a path that we found with ease. We got our kids together once/week for gym, music and art. The group grew to be 40+ families of 100+ kids by the time I left Michigan two years ago. Now here in Raleigh, NC, there are thousands in the homeschool groups, and several from which to choose. Socialization is with the right people during socialization time; learning takes place one on one in a quiet (well, relatively quiet) home.
Am I able do it?
1. Did you teach your child to use the bathroom? Tie his shoes? Make his bed? You have been homeschooling all along.
2. If you don’t know where to begin, there are many resources available for telling you word-for-word what to do and say daily.
3. In my experience, 5 and 6-yr-olds practically teach themselves when we offer them the right educational options of reading and play.
What about special needs? ADHD?
1. Special needs do not disqualify the ability to homeschool. Part of the confidence I had when I began homeschooling was due to working one-on-one with an autistic child, to whom his mother and I (among others) taught lessons each day, recording progress in a notebook. Thanks to God and the behavioral therapy, the non-speaking three-yr-old became an active kindergartener in public school just two years later, with no diagnosis of autism present. (Read “Let Me Hear Your Voice” by Katherine Maurice for additional information.)
2. ADHD children might fair well when treated individually, at their own pace and designed environment.
What does it cost?
1. A part of me wants to answer this one, “everything!” since every part of me becomes part of homeschooling. But in dollar terms, the cost varies based on the method chosen, which means it varies A LOT! Robinsoncurriculum.com offers a K-12 classics curriculum for under $400 for 13 years’ worth (less on eBay). Amblesideonline.org offers completely free downloads and reading lists by grade-level that provide most of the needs for FREE. A local homeschool group offers classes for most high school courses for about $500 each subject/year. Classical conversations costs about $1500/year for middle school. EBay changes all the numbers. As you can see, the cost varies greatly.
How much time does it take every day?
1. Oliver DeMille, in Thomas Jefferson Education, suggests spending five hours/day doing something academic. Some kids will drive themselves more from there. Younger kids, less.
2. In the early years (K-3^rd grade), I rarely spend more than 2 hours working with the student. Often 20min reading lesson and a little math and they are off on their own- reading, exploring the outdoors, etc. Last I checked, Kindergarten is still optional in many states, as well as the Brady home. The “incidental learning” through influence of reading aloud and playing games made Kindergarten “requirements” satisfied by age three or four for all four of our children – so I was never too worried about officially “starting school.”
3. It is impossible to measure length of time in homeschooling. Maybe we work 8am-11am specifically teaching, but then I see Christine (9) off in the woods in the backyard, carrying a journal and the Nature Handbook with her. And I see JR (7) trying to get his remote control car to balance, holding the magazine that he hand-made for a friend down the street. Then we snuggle with popcorn and books (See the letter: “Raising Readers”) or get out the map at night, to see where Pagoo went on his journey during bedtime reading. How much time did it take to “do school”?
What curriculum do you use?
1. I highly recommend anyone trying to choose a curriculum to read the DeMille and Bell books (above), before choosing. I don’t use the same curriculum for all of my children (see “reason why Bradys homeschool” #5 above). Look for a future Letter to Lindsey regarding getting started.
2. When I first began homeschooling, I simply brought school home; I even boasted, “I use the same curriculum as some schools.” However, experience has told me that I was not satisfying #4, 5, 8 or 10 of my reasons by just selecting a box curriculum (like A Beka or Bob Jones) and staying with it. So I branched. I got rid of the “chalkboard mentality paradigm” I had from growing up in school. Now, we do Bible, math and grammar/penmanship together and then focus on reading classics. Incidentally, if anyone asks, I highly recommend to anyone starting homeschool – especially with a child who has been in school – that they begin with a box curriculum like A Beka or Bob Jones, because it gets the daily routine right before you start picking and choosing creatively.)
Is there an age when you shouldn’t homeschool anymore?
1. My first “age” goal to reach for each child was 10-yrs-old. The goal was that after age 10, we could reevaluate whether homeschool was right for us. Dr. James Dobson says that if a child is given one standard consistently until the age of 8-10 years old, he is much less likely to veer from it. This goes along with the fact that most discipline for obedience within a home is heavily required until around age 6-10. If, however, the foundation has many “blows to its base” when a 1^st grade teacher teaches evolution, for example, or promotes divorce, or doesn’t punish for a child’s lie, the child is more likely to not only question his beliefs, but his parents’ as well. So it was my first goal to get to age 10. Of course, we loved it and went beyond.
2. My friend, Donna Ascol, who has graduated 4 homeschoolers with high school and associates degrees at the same time, and still homeschools two more says, “If I could only homeschool two years of their whole lives, it would be 6^th and 7^th grade.” I agree that those two years can be painfully unforgettable and unrealistic on the social skills of peers; I have not been put inside of a locker since 7^th grade. LOL.
3. We put our eldest in school at 9^th grade, but I do NOT say that high school is the age where all should go to school…if they go to school at all! It was right for him, but it may not be right for all. My second son will be coming back home for 8^th grade next year: his request; our choice.
4. It goes back to praying through the pros and cons of your personal situation for each child. Reevaluating every year takes the pressure off. No for now doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind next year. Chris and I have often come to lean in a direction, just because it has less chance of regret. I will never regret the extra time I have spent with my kids, never.
What obstacles are there to overcome? (The way to overcome any obstacle is to make sure the dream is bigger than the obstacle. Stay focused on your “reasons for homeschooling” any time one of these obstacles arises in your mind. Believe me, those school buses never look so appealing to me as every February; I get my list of “why” back out and read it!)
1. Family and Friends: With any good decision comes resistance. Well-meaning family and friends can weigh a homeschooler down. I had to understand that even though it was TRULY not in my heart, my homeschooling implied that their schooling choice was not as good as my own. Not true, but I am guessing they felt it regardless. Time allowed us all to encourage each other in our choices, knowing God has a plan for each.
2. Parenting: The fluency of homeschooling is limited by our own discipline within the home. Many have told me they want to homeschool, but their kids won’t listen to them. Sad. Excuse. If we can’t train them to listen to us, the parents, to what authority will they listen? Look at statistics of peer pressure and you get the answer. It is ok to make demands of your children – even in schooling. I am ashamed that I used to think that was “someone else’s job.”
3. Toddlers: I don’t like calling children “obstacles,” but toddlers bring a challenge to homeschooling – not an impossibility – a challenge. You can do it anyway! Yes, it is easier now that I don’t have to try to dance with Cheerios in my hair to distract the 1-yr-old while, cleaning up the Play-Doh of the 3-yr-old, all while teaching the 6-yr-old addition, and the 9-yr-old science, but it was worth it. Much has been written about homeschooling with toddlers in the room, so I won’t bore with details, but I encourage you to look into it. (Help for the Harried Homeschooler is a good place to start.) It makes me oh so sad when I hear of a mom that gives up homeschooling her 6-yr-old because she is afraid her 3 and 1-yr-olds were too much of a distraction! (See answer to #6 above for how much time it takes. See Obstacles #9d (perfectionism) below and overcome it. Then re-read your reasons to homeschool before you consider putting a six-year-old in school due to younger siblings.)
4. Perfectionism: My desire for perfectionism was such an obstacle, that it was the most common whisper/shout in my ear, trying to persuade me to put my kids in school. Sometimes the house fell apart. (THAT is funny that I just used past-tense, since it STILL falls apart!) The school day almost NEVER looks perfect. (“Almost” is optional in that sentence.) I too often imagined that some teacher, any teacher would do a better job than I was doing. SHE would be more organized. HE would get all of the checkmarks in the box for the day. But raising a child is not about collecting checkmarks! Raising the next generation of leaders will not always look organized! Now that I have some years of experience in homeschooling, I can confidently tell you that years of imperfect homeschooling are leading to mature children who are progressing in the direction of happy, healthy, productive Christian Americans.

Who should NOT homeschool?

If the only reason you want to take your kids out of school is so they don’t wake you up in the morning, please don’t.
If you are only half-interested in it, please don’t.
If you are only mad at a teacher, please don’t. Rectify things with the teacher, and then make a decision through prayer.
If you call your husband a “*&^#&*$^@bleep who won’t clean the toilets!” your kids could use a better influence. (HAHA – Remember from my last letter, “It Began as a Walk in the Park”?)
If you don’t feel called to homeschool, nothing is wrong with you. There are other options and God may be using your life and your children’s in those situations for His glory! Press on!

In love,

Terri Brady

Two minute video on Common Core: http://youtu.be/9gyZDtzgta8

Article on two moms who who got involved and made a difference for their state when they noticed something had changed because their school started using Common Core: Two Moms Versus Common Core

It Began as a Walk in the Park (the beginning story of my homeschool)
Homeschooling Missing Ingredients (Mistakes I’ve Made)
Act Like the Mom!

Letters to Lindsey

Category Archives: Motherhood

A Disease Called Busyness

A Disease called Busyness.

Pitfalls of Busyness

1. Busyness makes us lose sight of the direction we intended.

2. Busyness robs our happiness.

I felt like saying, “Do you know the kind of day I have had?!!!”

A thief came in to rob my happiness through the door of my calendar.

3. Busyness masks our decay.

Real Moms: “When the Last Goldfish Dies”

Life appreciates after it is gone.

Real Moms

Real moms stop and blow bubbles.

Because when the last goldfish dies

Childhood appreciates after it is gone.

Why is There a Dead Bird on the Air Hockey Table?

When Bad Things Happen

Let us give thanks.

The Book is Here!

Introducing: Letters to Lindsey in book form!

Tough Breaks

Itching to be Tough

Bradys Play Hurt

Orange Signs of Protection

Homeschooling Missing Ingredients (Mistakes I’ve Made)

Some Homeschooling Mistakes Along the Way

——–

Praising a ‘Retired’ Home School Mom

Throwing Myself Under the (School) Bus

Children Who…

The Princess Bride Story (sort of)

Why Homeschool?

Principal’s Principles

Recommended Reading:

The Reasons We Homeschool:

Brady Family: goals and benefits of homeschooling

FAQ’s of Homeschooling:

Who should NOT homeschool?

A Disease called Busyness.

Pitfalls of Busyness

1. Busyness makes us lose sight of the direction we intended.

2. Busyness robs our happiness.

I felt like saying, “Do you know the kind of day I have had?!!!”

A thief came in to rob my happiness through the door of my calendar.

3. Busyness masks our decay.

Share this:

Life appreciates after it is gone.

Real Moms

Real moms stop and blow bubbles.

Because when the last goldfish dies

Childhood appreciates after it is gone.

Share this:

When Bad Things Happen

Let us give thanks.

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Introducing: Letters to Lindsey in book form!

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Some Homeschooling Mistakes Along the Way

——–

Praising a ‘Retired’ Home School Mom

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Children Who…

The Princess Bride Story (sort of)

Why Homeschool?

Principal’s Principles

Recommended Reading:

The Reasons We Homeschool:

Brady Family: goals and benefits of homeschooling

FAQ’s of Homeschooling:

Who should NOT homeschool?

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