The Blessings in Crosses
by Maria Rioux
"Take up your cross
and follow Me."
We all know we're here
to do God's will but how do we determine what that is? How do we know which
crosses we're supposed to take up and carry? That might seem like a silly
question. Who goes around looking for crosses to shoulder? You carry the one
you're given, not ones left lying around. If you aren't given one, you assume
that's because you're not supposed to have one, and you thank God for that. No
one gets away with that in this life. Even Mary, God's beloved Mother and most
highly favored daughter, who alone among His creatures did not have the burden
of sin, had a heart pierced by seven swords.
How do we figure out what
God wants? Elijah had the same problem and the Lord told him to stand by a
mountain and wait for Him to pass by. A strong wind rent the mountains and
crushed the rocks, but the Lord was not in the wind. There was an earthquake
and a fire, but the Lord was not in either. Then there was a tiny whispering
sound...a still small voice...and this was the Lord. This worries mothers of
both small and not so small children because we're pretty sure that, if God
wants us to hear Him, He's probably going to have to yell like everyone else.
That's not because we're not trying to listen or that our children are all that
loud. I'm not able to hear because I don't know how to be quiet anymore, and
those loud voices are my own, inside my own head, interrupting myself. I tell
myself not to forget about piano lessons while I wonder what to make for dinner
and notice that if someone doesn't pick up some milk on the way home we're not
going to have very many breakfast options in the morning. I consider three
different problems concerning at least two people while plotting an attack on
the laundry. I'm accustomed to putting out fires...it's part of my job, and
I've become so habitually efficient and effective at it, I can do it almost
without thinking. That might be why I probably wouldn't even notice if
one of those fires was a burning bush!
That's a helpful image because the
problem is not so much that I'm completely clueless as to what God wants...I
know I'm supposed to put out fires..., but I sometimes get confused, make
mistakes, or choose poorly when I apply that to particular situations. That
doesn't mean I'm hopeless. It just means I should be more careful and
reflective.
We all know what God wants for us in a general way: We are wives
and mothers. We are here to spend ourselves in loving service...and our
families make that easy because we already love them so much. Not only is this
our job, we are each perfectly suited to the children entrusted to us
_and_ each of our children is uniquely fitted to bring out the very best in us.
Why do I say that? Because that's the kind of loving Father we've got. He takes
every means to work for our good and draw us closer to Himself so that we might
be truly happy. More pointedly, I say it because married women, in the normal
course of things,earn their salvation through child bearing. That is not to say
that a married woman who is not blessed with children is sunk. It doesn't refer
to the 9 month act of carrying and having a baby, either....though that's
certainly a good and necessary beginning! "...woman will be saved through
bearing children *if* she continues in faith and love and holiness, with
modesty." (1 Tim. 2:15) That's our job: to live in faith what we vowed the
day we began our covenantal relationship with the man we chose as husband.
Because God is the good God that He is, nothing escapes His all-seeing eye nor
His all-loving hand. Whether we're type A or type Z, He's got it worked out,
for our good and the good of each of those we touch. All we have to do is
cooperate with His grace. That's a big all, I know. It's the part that
discourages me because I fall with such regularity, it's a surprise my nose
sticks out at all. It's also when the words of St. Paul come to my mind and
comfort me: "When I'm weakest, I am strongest." It is in weakness
that I think to call on Strength...and every time I do He draws me closer to
Himself. This is one of the blessings to be found in crosses.
"Take up
your cross and follow Me."
To better understand what this means, we look at the Passion of Christ
beginning with the agony in the garden. The first thing Christ does is
pray...fervently, for a couple of hours. None of us have ever prayed as Christ
prayed unless some of you have been sweating blood is secret. That's not to
suggest that you aren't praying hard enough unless you see blood because none
of us have ever or will ever carry the weight of the world's sin on our
shoulders, either. It is to reaffirm what we already know: We need to
pray in order to be able to do whatever it is God asks of us. The life of prayer
is the habit of being in the presence of God and in communion with Him
(CCC.2565). I have to say that for Christ, who was fully Divine and fully
human, this had to be pretty easy. We have to work at it. That's okay, though.
There are many things Jesus did that we cannot and should not do _as_ He did
them. Christ was celibate. We, for whom God wills marriage and children,
should not imitate Him in this, though religious do. We must be chaste, but we
won't get far being celibate. In the same way, we should pray ...but when God
wants us to pray and in the manner that He chooses. Dom Zeller, who wrote
Holiness for Housewives, sums this up well:
"When you get right down to it, what is response to God's grace? It is
giving back in the terms He has proposed. For one person it may be done
by singing psalms, for another by nursing the sick, another still by kneeling
in front of the Blessed Sacrament, and for another by teaching small children.
For some it is by being ill, for others by making use of their health. The whole
thing depends upon the terms of God's demand on the individual. Prayer, if it
means expressed praise, is only one form of communication with God.
Prayer, if it means directed effort toward God, can cover all forms of
communication with God. Your whole purpose, then, is to work out a way of
praying that directs every effort to God....and to work out a way of directing
effort so that everything becomes a prayer."
There are so many ways to
pray. I am often awake in the night and it gives me wonderful
opportunities to talk to God. Or I try to listen because I know it's rude to
always be the one doing the talking and I imagine He has better things to
say. I find that transition difficult, though. I feel as though I
need to say that I'm listening now, which strikes me as just a bit funny,
because I'm talking again. God's apparently far more circumspective than I am
because He never starts up His end of the conversation right away. Sometimes I
have to lay there quietly, eyes starting to dart around, for quite some time.
Every little sound is amplified. I notice the clock ticking .....and a ladybug
scratching her legs. I try to resist the impulse to think
"Dum-de-dee-dum-dum....." because it seems impious. It's at this
point that I KNOW our concept of time and God's is not at all the same and it
seems not at all unlikely that six days could in fact have been biiiilllllions
and biiiilllllions of years. I realize I'm nowhere near prepared to really
listen, and work at pushing out every thought, relaxing every little bit of me,
and being patient. Sometimes these times are my best prayer times, and I feel
God's loving presence so concretely it's almost as if I'm snuggled in His arms.
Other times...gosh...I just never manage to clear my head. Prayer time is always
beneficial, but not necessarily in the way we first imagine. When I try to pray
and do not receive the consolation of God's presence, I like to think of what
St. Therese said:
"Let us not expect to find Love without Suffering. Our nature is
there, and it is not there for nothing; but what treasures it enables us to
acquire! It is our means of gain; so precious is it that Jesus came down
upon earth expressly to possess itŠWe want to suffer generously, grandly; we
wish never to fall; what illusion! And what does it matter to me if I
fall every minute: I find great profit in it, for thereby I see my
weakness. My God, You know what I am capable of unless You carry me in
Your arms; and if You leave me alone, it is that it pleases You to see me on
the ground, so why should I be disquieted?"
I pray well alone
at night, but I also pray well...and more often.... through caring for the
family God has blessed me with. They make forgetting myself so much
easier...though not guaranteed, and remind me almost minute by minute of God
who loves each of us better by far than I love them even on my best day.
Homeschooling is, for many, the only real option. If
you're one of that many, it's God's will for you. Knowing that God is
completely aware of the circumstances of our lives and that He supplies every
grace needed for us to do exactly what we ought is a huge comfort to me. Every
one has bad days. We are each flawed creatures. We almost never manage to do
all that we should, could, and planned on doing...and everyone we live with has
the same problem. When those days of doubt and disappointment come, it helps me to recognize that
though we are each called to be perfect...we probably won't get there, and God
knows it. He loves us anyway. When we take up the crosses of our lives, it is
well to remember that Christ fell three times. We shouldn't expect to do better
than that. We are going to fall...and we're probably going to do it a lot. It helps me to remember that
everything Christ did was intentional... and for our benefit. He was always
teaching, and He might be the only One to ever have provided a totally living
education. The Israelites had constantly been taught through a real
relationship with God throughout the OT. That might be a helpful analogy when our
children are as uncooperative and...dense...as some of the OT people seem to
be. Sometimes it really _isn't_ your fault. Christ taught us that you can pray
for certain things to be avoided, while at the same time embrace the cross. You
can fall, again and again, as long as you always get back up. The family of God
is here to help.
What so often stands
in our way? The same thing that stood in the apostles' way: Fear. Despite the
fact that Christ had been teaching them for three solid years, the apostles
were still so confused and afraid, they all hid. The day the Holy Spirit came
down upon them they understood their mission and worked fearlessly and
tirelessly to fulfill it, successful that very first day beyond their wildest
imaginings. We don't have to wait for the Holy Spirit. We've been confirmed and
we know what God wants. Whether or not it _can_ be done is not even a question.
Whether or not we're willing to cooperate to the best of our ability, getting
up again no matter how often we fall nor how tired we are, might be.
Wondering _how_ something _will_ be done is
not the same thing as questioning whether or not it's possible. Sometimes we're
so like Moses, fearful and uncertain, wondering how a man such as he could
fulfill God's plan: "If you please, Lord, I have never been eloquent,
neither in the past nor recently nor now that you have spoken to your servant;
I am slow of speech and tongue." "Who gives one man speech and makes
another deaf and dumb, or who gives sight to one and makes another blind? Is it
not I, the Lord? Go then, it is I who will assist you in speaking and will
teach you what you are to say." Exodus 4: 10-12. Our children are God's
first...He will teach us what to say and do. Who who recognizes God hanging
upon a cross could ever doubt the lengths to which He will go to care for His
children? We need to respond to His call as Mary did: "How can this
be....", not as Zechariah: "How shall I know this?" .
I am one of those
moms who is sometimes tired beyond belief, but it would not be fair to say that
I am overwhelmed or unduly burdened or at all unhappy. I love homeschooling and
I will never regret any of the sacrifices we have had to make to homeschool,
neither will our children, and by the time I'm through I hope you'll feel the
same way.
We have been homeschooling for 17 years. For the past four, we
have worked to homeschool while dealing with our young daughter's leukemia.
We've had to use summers to get everything done. I had thought that when she
finished her two and a half years of daily chemo things would be easier. They
were easier in some respects, but it was as if, because I didn't have to
be prepared to dash off with her in the dead of night for antibiotics, my alert
level dropped. It didn't just drop. It plummeted. I didn't even have an alert
level. I had comatose and semi-comatose. I asked myself what God wanted from
us? That's always the only question. He knows best, and He wills only what is
good. He's a bit cagey,though. I sometimes think wistfully of burning bushes
and booming voices...even being struck by a lightning bolt seems appealing. At
least it's definite.
We don't really
need booming voices or lightning bolts. If we did, God would provide them. He
gave us reason, common sense, and the ability to make prudent decisions. The
fact that one can be termed a responsible parent implies that one can also be
termed the contrary: irresponsible. God can bring good out of evil, as the Incarnation
attests. We need to distinguish between difficulties which we bring upon
ourselves and crosses which God allows us to carry. We should not justify our
bad choices by declaring the resulting chaos a cross allowed by God.
It's like the joke about the man caught
in a flood. The waters rise and neighbors come by in a boat and offer to ferry
him out. He refuses, firm in the conviction that God will save him. Next the
national guard comes, informs him the waters will continue to rise and he will
soon be flooded out, and offers to bring him to safety. Nothing doing. His
Faith is unshakeable, and he will trust himself to God's care. Lastly we find
him perched on his roof, water all around, and the rescue helicopter informing
him that this is his last chance. Again he elects to stay where he is, a
testament to Faith and trust. He drowns, and as he stands before God he rather
angrily wonders why God let him down. He was supposed to care for his
creatures! Why didn't he save him? "I sent two boats, and a helicopter..."
God relies on us to use our ability to
reason. We begin by asking if something is reasonable and prudent given our
particular circumstances. God's will is always _at least_ reasonable. It also,
often enough, surpasses reason. That's generally the problem. It's unreasonable
to expect to move mountains, unless God wants that mountain moved and _you_ to
move it. Then it's not only possible..it's no longer unreasonable. To tackle
that mountain just because you and everyone you know are pretty sure the view
would be much improved with it moved would be unreasonable, prideful and
presumptuous....as well as pointless, frustrating, and fruitless. That voice
might be still and small....whispering, even, but it's incessant and it will
prod you until you do something to correct the problem. It's a lot like a
dripping faucet.
I make a distinction between parenting and academics, and feel an
obligation to meet both these educational responsibilities to the best of my
ability having taken them on. Parenting has never been a problem...It's a joy.
Getting all the academics done amidst childhood cancer and chemo...well, there
are a lot of things I did with the older children that I just didn't have the
time or the energy to do with the younger ones. What bothered me most was
watching children who were dutiful and generally eager work day after day with
minimal input from me. I was sad to see the younger children struggle with what
was a beautiful time for their older siblings. I was sad to see older children
work almost completely on their own. We don't have the opportunity to delight
in these things together for very long. I was sad at what was being missed.
My mistake was to cling to my hope for these
children, to forget that they are more God's than ours and to be so arrogant as
to imagine that my plans for them were better than His. I didn't express it to
myself that way, or even think of it that way. I lived that way, thoughtlessly.
I suffered needlessly for it, and made my life more difficult than it was meant
to be. As a result, I became disheartened and sad. Time with our children felt
like water in my hands, relentlessly dripping away despite my every effort to
hold it in my grasp. It was never meant to be held in my grasp. I worked to
deflect the weight of this cross from the shoulders of our children.
Cancer seemed less ugly if I could cage it and keep it from touching anything
other than what it must. In my pride, I imagined I could take on every cross. I
was motivated by love, but not by Love Itself. I wanted to limit our children's
suffering, forgetting that suffering teaches us, transforms us, and Christ
"makes all things new". Even crosses become so beautiful I know
no words to describe that. They ought to be embraced as lovingly as they were
fashioned. We ought to trust that God has greater care for these children than
we do. I'm still an idiot, but I'm not as big an idiot.
Our children have
a different perspective than I did on those years of chemo. They worked hard, and
had the satisfaction of knowing they helped share the burden of
this cross through diligence and perseverance. They often worked together or in
pairs instead of with me and so formed closer bonds with their siblings. After
studying, they were free to roam and play inventive games in imaginary worlds
long forgotten by their peers. They were free to be children, while they worked
at being the children of God they were made to be.
We're enjoying our days together
despite the fact that they are sometimes long, some subjects are not that
gripping, and we get up on the wrong side of bed from time to time.I'm a little
worried about my own energy level and hope our children don't judge our living
books by how long it takes Mom to fall asleep while reading one.
It is because our children have
generally been cheerfully obedient that I only see puffs of smoke when I turn
around fast. Without their help, I'd have burnt
completely out long ago. I'd be a little pile of ashes you could blow about and
maybe I would finally be part of a decent nature study. Mother Theresa spoke
beautifully about obedience: "Try to excel in obedience. God wants you to
do His work in His way. You are infallible when you obey." Of all the
habits I hope to foster in myself and our children, this is the one that is
paramount and the one which I know will best lead us back to Him. There are
very few people who can't do very well without me. There's exactly 9 of them. I
don't always serve them as well as I should, but I am always aiming higher.
Mother Theresa is helping me. Not only am I
infallible when I obey, I'm unstoppable.
Mother Theresa prized joy. She said joy
was the mark of love and the outward sign of sacrifice joined to Christ's.
Along with joy she spoke of the peace of Christ felt by those living His will.
Children so naturally strew joy all about them, it's hard to miss when you get
to delight in them all day every day. In order for children to feel joy as well
as give it, they must see the smile on your face and hear the peace of a
contented heart in your voice. Too often the only thing visible is the strain
of too many things clamoring for our attention. But are there ever too many
things, or do we just think there are?
I am excited about the coming
year and am in the midst of reworking our syllabi to suit each of our children,
and to incorporate some things for which I have great hope. Whatever we use,
what makes it work well and happily despite inherent shortcomings is my being
there to guide and encourage.
The joy of homeschooling begins by having our children
home. If it stops there, and we work mightily to encourage independent
learning, we're missing far greater joys. Not only are we missing joys that
cannot be reclaimed, our children miss out on a parent that belongs, in
justice, to them FIRST. Our children delight in us. I'm not any more delightful
than the rest of you, and am at times decidedly unpleasant, but our children
don't seem to realize this. These days with them are so limited and pass
so quickly. Nothing ought to come between us and time with our children. I do
not hope for independent learners. I expect them. It's a natural part of
growing up. Until that day, I will sit beside one child or another and be
grateful for the opportunity.
My best does not
always look like much, but, then again, I don't always _do_ my _best_ either. I
more often need others to remind me to do my best than I need anyone to warn me
about over-doing. I'm pretty good at making sure I don't overdo. Sometimes it
sneaks past me, but I usually catch it. I need to be patient with our children
despite the many reasons why that's difficult. When I'm tempted to respond
sharply to repeated offenses, I need to consider why it is that, if the phone
rang in the middle of a thermonuclear moment, I'd answer it with a pleasant,
"Hello?" Why is it that I see clearly the mental agony of moving from
grade to grade, subject to subject, but have less appreciation for the
loneliness of independent learning? I need to be as patient with others as I am
with myself. I probably don't need to be as gentle with them because I'm not an
ungentle person...What's far more likely is that I need to be less gentle with
myself and then I would be consistent as well as just.
In the same way
that the crosses in our lives work for good and draw us closer to God, so too
the difficult and disappointing days that are interspersed throughout the
schoolyear remind us of our frailty and teach us to be patient. If we, who have
had so many years to develop good habits, can manage to flub things up with
regularity, surely we can be patient with those in our care who are just
beginning the journey? The beauty of our Faith is that no mistake or poor
choice is irrevocable. We can always start over and are not doomed to fail. In
fact, God is right there with us, offering just what is needed, but not always
much more than that. He wants us to lovingly take up our cross, to sacrifice
ourselves for the good of others. Our children make this a joyful burden. It
remains a burden, and at times we're going to need some help. That's not failure.
That's the nature of crosses and the example God has given us.
Just as no one ought to consider their next baby during week 36,
or directly after a c-section, no one ought to evaluate their school year in
March. Despite the fact that you feel like a beached whale when 36 weeks
pregnant, you are in fact not one. Despite the fact that after a c-section you
are certain that if you cough your innards will become outards, the stitches are
up to the challenge. Despite the fact that your 10 year old child gazes blankly
at you when asked about the significance of the date 1776, he has yet learned a
whole heck of a lot, and he isn't a complete idiot.
Parenting itself is a full time
job. We're stressed not because we're inefficient, lazy, or inept, but because
we are doing the work of at least two people. If you're teaching multiple
grades, you're slicing yourself even thinner. On the other hand, we all enjoy
the idea of being thinnish. Being thinnish is one thing..... slicing yourself
up isn't anyone's idea of a good way to get there. The point is exhaustion goes
with the territory. The "territory" is worth every ounce of
weariness. I`t's a hill I'd die on, and one that Christ did die on. It's the
battle for our children's minds and hearts, and there is no surrender.
How do we do this? As best we can. We make
the best plan and we do our best to follow it. We order our studies and our
lives. If it takes all summer, we school all summer. We have fun with it. On
those days when it is absolutely not fun and the last thing we want to do, we
remind ourselves that these are really the best days. These are the days when
we live what we say we believe. These are the days when we try to love our
enemies. Algebra undoubtedly qualifies, some days, as an enemy. Sometimes it
might even feel like an overwhelming enemy.
We can become overwhelmed in two ways: either God
allows it or we overburden ourselves. If God allows it...it somehow works for
good. God takes the long view on this, though. He's working for our eternal
good, not our immediate good. Either way, St. Therese was right: if it pleases
Him to have us on the ground, why should we be disquieted? Job teaches us
that it's entirely possible for an exemplary and faithful person to both feel
and become overwhelmed by his crosses without ever falling into despair or sin
of any kind, either of ommision or commision. He also teaches us that God never
gives us more than we can bear. While God never gives us more than we can bear,
we are not always the best judges of what can be borne nor of what ought to be
borne. I am not like Job, and I'm guessing most of you are more like me than
not. We do not carry such burdens as he did, and we are not as virtuous nor as
faithful. We're not vicious either, but sometimes we unthinkingly or
obstinately fashion our own crosses, making them overwhelming. It's one thing
to suffer. We are each called upon to carry our cross..to suffer...as we follow
Christ. It's quite another to bring suffering upon oneself. While our daughter
was undergoing treatment for leukemia, I overwhelmed myself. Had I persisted in
this, I would surely have "burnt out". If through vicarious
experience even one person avoids going where I have already been, it will be
one more blessing to come from that cross..... one more instance of God
transforming something ugly into something beautiful.
Fix your eyes on
the cross. No one said it would be easy. When you think of Christ hanging on
the cross, every last drop of blood shed for each of us, consider the beauty
hidden in such ugliness. The greatest good ever known was accomplished through
these means. Look for that beauty when things get rocky. You might be
overwhelmed, but you could be like the rich man who gave so much but wasn't
willing to give all. We each ought to expect to completely submit our will and
spend ourselves for the sake of Love as shown through loving those around us,
and especially, those in our care. We sometimes seem more focused on not
burning out than on totally burning ....with Love.
What would I most like to tell new
homeschoolers? I'd like to tell them to trust to God's plan and pray to know
it, to take heart in the knowledge that _all_things work for good, even our
mistakes and weaknesses, and to never fear burnout. Rather, fear lack of fire,
and work to burn up....within the context of God's will, not our own. Lastly,
I'd tell them I'm here to help.
The best help
I can give you is the benfit of my experience.
You can always love more, but there will always be only 24 hours to a single
day. You have to be a good steward of your time.
Simplify your life.
Organize all aspects of it so that minimal attention is required for those
areas that are practically necessary but not objectively speaking all that
noble. It takes us about 45 minutes to completely clean our home. Everything
has a place and we don't waste time looking for things when we want to use
them. Decluttering and general cleanliness is liberating as well as practically
and spiritually profitable. It gives us time to devote to better things as well
as a spirit of detachment. It's tempting sometimes to hang on to things in case
you will use them, but it isn't always all that spiritually healthy. If you
haven't used it in 6 months and it isn't seasonal, you probably don't need it.
Find it a happy home and you won't have to dust it. You can do this slowly, but
not haphazardly. One really clean room is better than ten neat corners.
Teach cheerful obedience, perseverance, and
submission to the will of God. If necessary, use words.
Take full advantage of the time you
have. I read to the children while they eat breakfast and we often listen to a
book on tape or the life of some composer during lunch or when we're in the
car. Dinner time is especially good for discussions, but so are walks. When
walking you can also be teaching. Concentrated effort and focused attention is
both good and necessary, but multi-tasking has a place.
When possible, combine
things. Creative writing provides an opportunity to combine vocabulary,
spelling, punctuation, penmanship and style. We use new vocabulary words or
spelling words to write an original story. These can be a whole lot of fun. One
child once got rid of 4 words, using them appropriately, in a single sentence.
Another child was trying to get rid of "azure" meaning "clear
blue". He wrote: "Out of the azure..."
Taking even 15 minutes to look over everyone's list for
the day before we start helps me mentally
prepare for the leaping from subject to subject, grade level to grade level, to
come, which otherwise sometimes leaves me feeling frazzled and scattered. I
have a hard time switching between math and art, with a quick question on
catechism thrown in now and again or a dash to the potty with someone who
thinks he _might_ make it. Though we try to structure the day so that everyone
is working on the same sorts of things at the same time, no one ever does so at
the same pace, so it isn't long before I'm juggling four different subject
areas at the same time. That is tiring. It might be less tiring if I were an
expert in each of these areas, but that is not the case.
Order your day. We follow a schedule in terms of when we rise, eat, do
schoolwork, and clean up pretty closely, though there are days when we pitch it
completely, sleep in a bit, and wing it. We design our own curriculum (a mix of
Classical and CM methods) and have made it available online at no cost. We
follow our syllabi pretty closely, though some things are not as necessary as
others and these get the boot whenever we're over-loaded. These two
things...ordering the day and having an academic plan for the year.... keep us
feeling peaceful and also keep us honest. If we're behind, we know it.
Our homeschooling
works best when I'm right there, not distracted by some other thing that needs
doing, or worse, that I'd prefer to be doing, and when I do not allow myself to
be duped into thinking that throwing in a quick load of laundry or something
will help keep us on track over-all. I really
need every minute in order to do justice to each child, and an interruption
means someone will get shortchanged. While I am not an integral part of every
lesson, I am the support...the reason, in part, why every child tackles
whatever with gusto. I give them confidence,
even when confidence isn't completely justified. If it is, in fact,
beyond them, they know I am there to help. If
I am not there, for whatever reason, even things which would require minimal gusto
suddenly become overwhelming. Knowing that, my absence better be based upon a
good and necessary reason.
It's when you start
relaxing and enjoying yourselves that things really begin to click. It is such
a privilege to have the opportunity to wonder along with our children, and to
delight in them. Homeschooling can be daunting. It's a big job. It's a job for
which you are particularly well-qualified as no one knows your children better
nor cares for them more. After a while you get to the point where you
realize you really are doing a good job, despite that nagging questioning
feeling you get on a regular basis. A while ago, I was working on curriculum
and had one of those moments reading the Sonlight catalogue. They have these
testimonials interspersed throughout: "Imagine my surprise when my
children revolted and declared we couldn't have Thanksgiving vacation!!! They
just didn't want to be away from these studies that long!" My first
thought was, "You've got to be kidding! Children like that need to get a
life! What happened to prowling around the woods pretending you're Davy
Crockett!" My second thought was, "I'm fairly certain none of our
children would have had that reaction..." followed closely by, "What
am I doing wrong!!! How come our children don't want to study during
vacations?!?" To add insult to injury, there was another quote from
a 4th grader who was appalled to learn that none of her 4th grade counterparts
in public school had a clue as to what the difference between fusion and
fission was...Could we believe that!!! Actually, I had little trouble and some
sympathy with the Public schoolers, having to take a furtive peek at the DK
science encyclopedia myself to straighten things out.
My point is, we can easily
question how we're doing, and might in fact not be doing as well as others in
some areas. I suppose that I am content to know that our children are
well-educated. We might not cover fusion and fission in Gr. 4, but we get to
it. At some point you have to be content with what suits you despite the fact
that the grass seems so lush and vibrant in the other homeschooler's classroom.
For those difficult days
when you start to feel disheartened and overwhelmed, I'd like to teach you a
prayer my mother taught me when she was dying. Every night before she went to
sleep I would read it to her. It brought her such comfort and peace as she felt
the love of God even through His crosses. It has been encouraging and
comforting to me over the years, and I hope it will be a help
to you:
The everlasting God
has in His wisdom foreseen from eternity the cross He now presents to you as a
gift from His inmost heart. This cross He now sends you He has considered with
His all-knowing eyes, understood with His divine mind, tested with His wise
justice, warmed with loving arms, and weighed with His own hands to see
that it be not one inch too large and not one ounce too heavy for you. He has
blessed it with His holy name, anointed it with His grace, perfumed it with His
consolation, taken one last glance at you and your courage, and then sent it to
you from heaven, a special greeting from God to you, an alms of the all
merciful love of God.
St. Francis de Sales
Adrienne's perspective from a
narration she gave me on sacrifice:
God made us and gave us life. He made the world. He put in animals, the sea,
the sky, the clouds, the stuff for houses and cars...He put in even the
dinosaurs! He gave us our moms and dads. He gave us trees.....and fields, and
meadows! He gave us everything we need and even things just for fun! We thank
God for this by giving Him ourselves, and that giving is called a sacrifice. I
sacrifice by being poked and offering that up for other people. Jesus got poked
by thorns, He got scourged, He got nailed to the cross....He did that out of
love for all of us...He did it for the whole world...Even people who were
fighting and nasty. I offer up my pokes. Even though I think it's going to be
scary I think, "So what? It'll be scary...It'll hurt. God got nailed! Why
can't I just be brave?" God got crowned with thorns and I just got
poked...Got carried His cross, and I just got poked....God got scourged, and
all I get are pokes. I have Emla cream, Annie (child-life professional...really
wonderful lady!), Cathy Burks, and Mommy to help me. Jesus had Mary, his Mommy, His
best friend, John, and on the way Veronica wiped His face. When I get a bone
marrow or a spinal, or a one- poker (I used to get those in my port, but that's
gone now, so we use my arm) I think, "This is for Kevin's Mommy, "
or, "This is for Aidan." or, "This is for Pepere." I feel
better because I did a good thing. I offered it up just like Jesus did when He
died on the cross. My pokes are a lot smaller, and I didn't have as many of
them. I sure did not!!!! When I think about that, I think "He must really
love us!" That's one way that leukemia helped me learn about God. I also think
God wants me to be a nurse. I would help children and make them better. I've
had lots of good nurses. I think maybe God let me get leukemia so that I could
know how to be a nurse for children.
God isn't just in heaven, but I
haven't ever seen Him around. I don't know what He looks like. I have felt Him,
but only once. It was when I was a little, little girl, just 4 years old. I was
being a good girl...very good...I said "Yes!" whenever Angela or Mom
asked me to do something. I felt God in my heart. I haven't felt Him much
since. I'm guess I'm good as I used to be. Sometimes I felt God helping me be strong. It felt great. I
would offer up my pokes for people like Mrs. Smith and Kevin. When the bone
marrow was all done I would tell Mommy I offered it up for Kevin or someone. I
used to be very proud that I wouldn't make a peep. I was proud of that because
it felt like...weeelll...it felt like I was offering a biiiit more up if I
didn't peep. I felt God then. I think I felt Him twice....well, maybe 5 or 10
times. .......Maybe 30. No more than 39 times.
Maria Rioux writes from rural Kansas
where she lives with her husband, Jean, and their eight children, whom she has
been home schooling for the past eighteen years.