Nothing to do

Right now I have nothing to do. It is an uncomfortable feeling, alive with anxiety and restlessness. Who am I if I am not defined by busyness? If I am not providing, what am I worth? It is easy to see in those around me proof that what they do is important in some way: a pay-cheque, professional clothes, a blog with a thousand readers, a public role in the church. It is not easy at the moment to see that I am important, especially when I am horrible to the children and upset them, when I am difficult to be around. I hope that one day the children I have chosen to keep out of school, to educate on a wing and a prayer, who have had to live with me day in and day out - whatever my mood - will be glad that I made this choice but they may not. They may regret what they have lacked and what I hope they are gaining may not mean as much to them. I hope that what I am doing is important but there is no guarantee.

Bushcraft

Yesterday we learned Bushcraft. We were lucky enough to hear of the opportunity of a free workshop where new instructors are trained and members of the public were invited for the recruits to try out their teaching skills. We spent the whole day outdoors and came home reeking of woodsmoke, the children grasping things they had carved themselves and all talking about the new things we had tried. My group tried our hands at making fire using a traditional bow-and-drill method. Despite being told that it had taken the instructors days to master the technique, some of us managed to make fire within half-an-hour (although I think having pre-prepared kits helped!) Not me though. I would have been the demotivated, disinterested, won't-stop-talking one at the back. It was too hard and I didn't really care. I couldn't conceive of a situation in which I would ever, ever, use this skill. If I was in a true survival situation, I would as likely have a box of matches as a knife, and if I did have a knife I would be dead from exposure, dehydration and hunger before I had managed to construct a working bow and drill. Getting some smoke excited me a little, but after that I just couldn't do it at all. When the instructor told me that there was a correct way to light a match - well, that caught my interest! A correct way to do something is right up my street, and I could see the purpose (not snapping that match and protecting it from getting blow out by the wind). I spent quite a long time practicing. Similarly with the knots. While I could not see myself stringing up a tarpaulin and hammock between two trees, setting up a washing line or needing a tight guy-rope on a tent seemed possibilites. My exercise partner told us that the knot we used to hitch up the ridge line taut and yet release easily (a style known as a slippery knot) was the knot she used to tie up her dressing gown, so she would undo it quickly! I imagined her as some kind of Wonder Woman, ready at a moment's notice to shed her urban lesuire attire and race out to save the world.
It was a fun day and we have the chance to go again. The best bit for me was the kettle. I would love to have a kettle like this hanging over my hearth.

Healing Tea

It has been over a month since I have felt we are "doing" home ed. I would argue my case strongly that the children are learning all the time and that it is catching the moment, noticing the interest, deepening the conversation that counts. But I do feel better when I am intentionally educating them at least some of the time. We started our new, eight-week, shiny, colour-coded, laminated time-table yesterday, but this week is already out of the pattern with a Bank Holiday, a day out at Bushcraft School and a maths exam for my eldest. We have managed chapter book for the last two days, at its new time of 8.30am, hoping to beat any distractions. We did a short free-write and I've overseen both boys doing maths, but, as always, it didn't feel like much. I start to find myself rationalising that bouncing on the trampoline counts as PE.
And then we had Poetry Tea. My little girl read a new poem - new to being read aloud by her, that is, so a mixture of memory and reading skills. We laughed and ate fresh lemon drizzle cake, we discussed pirates and rain after long days of sunshine and farm implements. We enjoyed each other's company and added another stitch to the embroidery of our home ed life together. And I felt better about it all.

The North Downs Way continues

The weather forecast was deceiving. Yesterday was predicted to be sunny but on the cool side, a mere twelve degrees. I packed an additional base layer, fleece, woolly hat and even gloves. The sun shone all day and much of the time I was hot and sweaty, compounded by carrying so much extra weight in my rucksack. But the wind blew. It was strong enough to make me tie my bandanna a bit tighter and loud enough to make conversation hard work. Not that that puts us off talking. We have walked from Farnham to near Sevenoaks and still not nearly run out of stuff to say.
Most of yesterday's route was within the London Orbital Motorway, the M25, and yet, in twenty miles, we did not pass one shop, nowhere to buy chocolate. We took ourselves off the Way to a pub which served us a cool cup of tea and a cooler welcome. We also headed into a village, to a nearly-closed garden centre where we bought chocolate raisins and toffee popcorn which fuelled us with enough sugar for the last couple of hours. We walked a number of miles parallel to the M25, through beautiful fields - grass and oil-seed rape - which I have motored passed with barely a glance. We saw country lanes bordered by thick mixed hedgerows, we heard birds singing and all day long the sky was a clear blue. Quintessential English countryside only half-an-hour's drive from the city centre.
Today I am tired, my legs ache and my feet are sore, but I have something of the newly-emerging summer on my inside, views for my "inner eye" that bring something green and blue and yellow to concrete suburbia and, as I spend some of my carefully carved out blogging time looking up train times as I excitedly plan the next stage, something to look forward to.

Be who God meant you to be

“Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.” St Catherine of Siena

This was the statement with which Dr Richard Chartres opened his wedding address to Prince William and Kate Middleton yesterday. There is a lot about me that I would like to be different and there is a lot about other people that I would like to be. I am challenged to trust that God made me exactly the way He wanted me and that only I am made perfectly to do what he asks of me.
Henri Nouwen also speaks of individuality: "You will discover that many other spiritualities you have admired and tried to practice no longer completely fit you unique call. You will begin sensing when other people's experiences and ideas no longer match your own. You have to start trusting your unique vocation and allow it to grow deeper and stronger in you so it can blossom in your community."

I feel that I have come to a time in my life when I am clearly seeing the choice I have to make. I can choose to agree with my envious and self-doubting thoughts, I can undermine myself and harshly compare my insides with my perception of other people's outsides; or I can say "yes" to the me God created, fight every day to believe that what he says about me is true and that he knew what he was doing when he made me. I can try every day to be more who God meant me to be.

Glory

God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.

I know that I should do everything for the glory of God, I have heard it many times. I try to glorify God, but it isn't very glorifying when I am tired, resentful or unhappy and my best efforts are not enough to overcome these feelings. Often the result is ugly; and I feel ugly, outside and in.
The quote above reframes this dilemma. It leads me to the question, "When am I most satisfied in God?" For when I am satisfied in Him, worldly efforts fall away and the "me" He created in infinite wisdom and generosity is free to shine. For His glory.

8 Today

My baby is eight years old today. As she told me, she is twice as old as when she was four!

I calculated that I have celebrated 29 of my children's birthdays, which I guess also means that I have muddled my way through 29 years of parenting. I cannot escape a sense that time is ticking away and that I am running out of opportunities to get it right. There are so many things I'd like to be more: patient, generous, fun, creative, spontaneous. I try hard to be a good mum, but I find it hard to see it and I am grateful to have people around me to tell me that they think I'm doing a good job. My eldest will be 12 this summer and, if my role as bringer-up ends at 18, I am well over half way through this daunting task. It will only be then, as my babies gradually become adults with lives of their own, that I will really be able to see the results of my efforts. I was reminded today that God trusted me enough to give me these children and, when it really feels that He made a mistake, perhaps I need to return the favour and trust Him!