The End of An Era

Thirteen years ago, on Memorial Day weekend,  I went to the first of many NCHE homeschool conferences which I would attend.  I only went to the beginner classes and the book fair.  I had a 4 year old daughter who I was planning to homeschool and I wanted to get a head start on it that year.  Someone had given me good advice to take very little money and to gather as many free catalogues as I could.  I followed that advice, bought almost nothing, took home a stack full of curriculum brochures, and spent the next year pouring over them, developing ideas and dreams for our homeschool journey.

Since that day, homeschooling has been one of my chief occupations and it has been way more than a means to an end.  It’s been my method for educating my children, my hobby, it has entailed some of my favorite parts of every day, and often my least favorite too.  It’s been more challenging than I could have ever imagined and more rewarding than I dared to dream.  Through homeschooling, I have made some of the dearest friends and been allowed a front row seat to so many “firsts” in my children’s lives.  There have been days when I have been convinced that my children would be destroyed by my antics, but fortunately, there have been many more where I have seen precious progress.  It has been my joy and my privilege to educate my children for these many years.

In less than a week, my homeschooling journey is coming to end (at least for now.)  I know that for this season of our lives, it’s the right choice.  I’m not giving it up because I’m tired (though I am tired.)   I’m not giving it up because I have something more important to do (as if that were even possible.)  The reasons why we are changing our course for this season are many and varied.  But, ultimately, we feel like this is a time where our children will benefit from relationships that go beyond what we can offer them in our home here in West Africa.  They need some things that are difficult for me to provide to them just now.  And so, it is with a heavy heart that I hang up my apple for at least a little while.

Now, I know that sending my children to school doesn’t make me any less of a mom to them.  I realize that we are going to have many opportunities to make memories in other, different ways.  I think we will all benefit from having the greater community that will come from the school environment they will be a part of.  But, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there is some deep, deep grief happening in my heart.

Recently, we gave away a kitten we had found when it was very tiny and emaciated.  We nursed it back to health and when it had grown healthy, with a pudgy little tummy and lots of cuddles to give, we chose to give it to another family.  For lots of reasons, we knew it was the best thing for our family and for that little kitten.  Regardless of that knowledge, one of my girls had a little meltdown.  When I attempted to dry her tears she said to me, “Mom, I know it was the right thing to do, it’s just very sad and so, so hard.”  

That’s the place where I find myself now.  I know that putting my children in school is the right thing to do at this time.  But, it is very sad and it is so, so hard.  I think part of the reason I’m mourning so deeply is simply because I know that this is the beginning of the end.  I have junior in high school.  In 2 years, I’ll be leaving her in the States for university, and I will be living on a different continent.  This goes way beyond the fact that we won’t be cuddled together on the couch reading “Little House on the Prairie” together after lunch.   It’s time to give her some wings, but man, it’s hard being a mama!

If I live to be 100 years old, I don’t know that I could find a more beautiful way to employ my time than the investment I’ve been allowed to make these last dozen years.  Here are just a few of my  favorite perks from our homeschool journey...

We haven't been limited to the basics of the 3 Rs.  Home economics, hospitality, character building, and the like have all been key elements of our learning.  

The world has been our classroom.  Grinding on the very stones the cliff dwellers of Mesa Verde used will make a pretty strong impression about how Native Americans lived.

Lots of hands-on possibilities.  Studying Christmas in France?  Why not try making a Buche de Noel?

The friends!  What dear friends we've made on this journey!  There are no limits to the things we could learn and do together.

Meeting the needs of individual children is easy!   If someone needed to learn by doing, we let them!

Plenty of time to read.  Day or night, rain or shine, electricity or headlamp, beach or classroom...there is always time for a good book.

The field trip are amazing!  Ellis Island, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Civil Rights Museums, Natural Science centers... you name it, we’ve tried it.  Sometimes we’ve had to sleep in tents or eat scrambled eggs to save the money to have the experiences, but we’ve been able to give our kids some pretty cool memories.

Togetherness!  The memories we’ve made while reading, playing, making, doing, and leaning together have been so very special.

Needless to say, we covet your prayers as we begin our new journey of learning.  The next week will likely be full of emotions of all kinds.   We are excited to see what kind of special memories and favorite perks we will have to share from this new adventure!

A Good Place

Recently, a friend wrote and asked me a simple question, "How are you doing?"  

When I considered how I should respond, I was thrilled to realize that I could honestly say, "I am good.  I am in a really good place."  And I meant it, in every sense of the word.  We've had a few really difficult years, with some tough circumstances, and a bit of a drought of the soul in my own life and heart.  But, I am happy to say that I feel like even though I've moved to the desert, I'm standing at an oasis.

I think there are lots of reasons I can say that.  First of all, we love our new home, the community we're finding here, and we're excited and hopeful about the work we have to do in this place.  Secondly, I feel like our time in the States really gave us a chance to step back, catch our breath, gain refreshment and encouragement, and reconfirm our call to West Africa.  But the biggest reason I feel like I can say that I'm in a "good place" isn't because of our circumstances.  It's simply because I've navigated some really dark times, wrestled with doubts I had never been faced with in all my years of walking with Jesus,  and I have come through it more convinced than ever that God is good, His ways are sure, and I have all I need in Him.   

I am sure that struggles and uncertainties will come my way again.  There will be other seasons of sorrow, difficult circumstances, and the like.  But, for now, I'm enjoying being in a place of plenty, where streams of abundance run through my soul.  

At the risk of sounding like a simpleton, I want to encourage you.   If you happen to be experiencing your own "dark night of the soul," rest in Christ.  Dig into his word, confess your concerns, your fears, your doubts, and your hopelessness to him.  Ask him to reveal himself to you and wait expectantly for his work in your heart.  I don't know how he'll work in your life, I only know that he will.  

Here's the view from my back porch.  Beautiful, isn't it?

"But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, 

whose confidence is in him.  

They will be like a tree planted by the water

that sends out its roots by the stream.

It does not fear when the heat comes;

its leaves are always green.

It has no worries in a year of drought

and never fails to bear fruit."

Jeremiah 17:7-8

An Average Day

We’ve settled into a bit of a routine here in Niger and I feel like we have a rhythm.  For now, my main focus is on learning French and being a mom. Being a mom here looks a lot like being a mom in the States, though the details of it can be a bit different.  Much more of my time is spent feeding them and suggesting ways to keep busy with simple things like books, games, and outside activities.  My kids tend to fight a lot more in Africa, and I think it’s because they have less opportunities to get out and about as well as fewer interactions with other.  We are hopeful that beginning school soon will help to alleviate that.  Much less of my time here is spent juggling social activities and taking my kids out for trips to the park, museums, etc.  In fact, our calendar can be exceedingly boring.  We know that with time here, things will pick up and our plates and schedules will be full again.

We have had the opportunity to meet a few of the families that the kids will go to school with.  However, many families left soon after we arrived to spend the summer in their passport country.  We’ve seen them begin to return over the last few days and the kids are hopeful they will all find friends once school starts.  I think they are hopeful that next summer won’t be quite as quiet as this summer has been.  I am hopeful that my formal French study will be completed by then so that we can have more play time and less study time. 

Of course, life with kids always leaves room for adventure.  “Ordinary” days often offer unexpected diversions.  So far this summer, we’ve rescued a tiny emaciated kitten who we nursed back to health and passed onto another family.  Currently, we have a pigeon with a broken leg that the kids are trying to get keep alive until his leg mends, so that he can go back to the wild.   We think he likely got into a trap and managed to get out and then make it as far as our yard with his injuries.  The kids found him in rough shape and made it their mission to save him.  Our house helper assured me that they make good food, but I explained to him, in my limited French, that the kids wouldn’t be keen on that idea.

Here is the pigeon the kids rescued in an old cage we found in a storage building.  The vet friend we have here explained a small cage is best for him while he's healing.  They don't sell bird food here, so we've made a mixture with things we found in town...barley, chick peas, oats, and sunflower seeds.  He seems to like it well enough.

French study is progressing.  By God’s grace, I had some weird fascination with French in high school that continued into college.  According to my university, I managed to take enough classes to have a French minor.  However, in 7 years of French study (20+ years ago) I had one conversation class.  One.  Which means that even when I graduated from college, I had lots of vocabulary in my head, and almost none on my tongue.  As pathetic as my conversational skills were, I am finding that there are lots of words in my rusty old brain just dying to come out.  So, though French study is slow, I know it’s not nearly as slow as it would be without that head start.  French is certainly coming much, much faster than my Hausa did.  I feel like I’m speaking as well after 8 weeks of French study as I did after 15 months of Hausa study.  And my reading and writing skills definitely exceed my highest point of Hausa study.

To learn French, we are using the same GPA approach we used for Hausa.  We’ve hired a Nigerien who has good French and he understands the grammar pretty well so when we have questions, he can generally explain why something needs to be said in a certain way.  He is from the city we live in, but we actually developed a friendship with him during our time in Accra, as he had come there for university. He moved home a week after we arrived to help us with our French study.  He comes to my house for about 4 hours a day- two with Ryan and two with me.   We do very advanced things like move pieces of dollhouse furniture around and I say increasingly difficult things like...”The cat is on the dresser in the bedroom on the second floor.”  Or I lay various items on a picture of the city and produce sentences like, “The sad man is at the post office.”  Similarly, he speaks highly advanced phrases to me such as, “I am hungry, I want some bread.”  Then I respond with witty responses like, “Go to the bakery.”  I know...you are so jealous!  

Each afternoon, I review the vocabulary I’ve added for the day and do some grammar work on my own.  At least one day each week, Ryan and I spend a few hours out in town trying to meet folks and apply the language we’re learning.  One thing that is very different for us here is that we actually need the language for everyday life here.  In our previous African cities,  which had been colonized by the British, the vast majority of folks spoke English.  Our efforts to learn language there were primarily ministry related, not necessary to life.  So, when we would try to practice our language, people would quickly grow impatient and switch the conversation to English.  Here, that’s not an option.  Folks may still find our French exceedingly painful, but we can’t switch to English.  That makes language learning much more accelerated.  I have to say, my house helper and I have had some good laughs at my expense, but we are increasingly understanding one another.  Yesterday, he even told me a story about something that happened to him and I think I understood nearly all of it.  

Ryan has started his “day job” even though he still has lots of language study ahead.    He works 1/2 time doing French study and 1/2 time with the work we came to do.  Once the kids start school, I will work several hours a week helping him with job related stuff as he can be spread pretty thin some days. 

Another “special joy” this summer has been math catch-up.  Though we worked hard during our time in the States to stay on course with our studies, math just had to come back with us. One by one, the kids have been finishing their curriculums.  However, I still have two that are still hanging on.  One will finish in just a couple more days.  The other, well, she’ll finish in time for the first day of school.  I honestly don’t know who will be more excited when Algebra II is done...she or I!  

A Mile in Moccasins

Recently, something came across my Facebook feed that concerned me.  Let’s be honest, things often come across my Facebook feed that concern me.  But this one is one that I feel compelled to respond to and to share my heart concerning the topic.  I have chewed on it for at least a week and it keeps returning to my mind.  So much so, that it is 6:10AM on our first day in a vacation rental and I have been awake for 45 minutes thinking on it.  Honestly, I want to sleep in tomorrow, so I am going to take time to do a bit of mind and soul dump.

What was this Facebook trigger?  It was a video urging folks to stop the psychiatric labeling of children.   I understand their concern and a few years ago, I would likely have nodded my head in affirmation of the message.  That is not true for me anymore.

For a good bit of my life, I have been a bystander to “psychiatric labels.”  I lived with a mom who loved me very much and desperately wanted to be the best mom she could be for me.  Unfortunately, she had suffered horrible abuses in her young years and she had a lot of “baggage.”  By the time my middle school years rolled around, we were living a very rocky existence in our home.  There were many times when I functioned more as a parent than a child during those years.  I am so very thankful that my mom was brave enough to get help.  I am grateful that she laid down her pride, refused to put on her happy face and pretend that everything was fine, and found the care she needed.  I am thankful for the medications that allowed my mother to get out of the bed every day and face the demons that haunted her.  I am thankful for the hours she spent with counselors unpacking her “stuff.”  I don’t pretend to be an expert on depression and anxiety, only a sideline spectator.  But I can tell you that for my mother, getting a “label” and finding the help she needed made an enormous difference in the quality of the relationship that she and I were able to have during the last 20 years of her life.  It made a difference on how she was able to invest each day that the Lord gave her.

I remember one day, on one of several occasions when my mom was in the hospital for a time of counseling and medication adjustments, I was visiting a friend.  This friend’s mom, with the very best intentions, said to me that she wished my mom had enough faith to see that God could heal her from this depression.  She wished my mom could just claim this healing.  Even in my young self, my antennas went up and I made it very clear to that kind woman that my mama was not sick because she didn’t have enough faith.   I explained to her that my mama had been begging the good Lord for years to take this cup from her and to make her whole in her spirit.  The Lord chose to work through my mama’s illness, not take it away from her.  My mama was not a weak woman, she was one of the strongest women I have ever known.  But, she had a broken past and some legitimate physical/chemical needs that needed to be dealt with.

But my mama wasn’t a child, was she?  At least not by the time she was labeled.  Dealing with children is different, it’s apples and oranges.  Right?  To a large extent, I would agree.  Again, I claim no expertise.  I’m just a mom who loves a little boy who has received a psychiatric “label."  I want him to thrive in every way possible.  I also feel burdened to speak out for all of the other non-expert moms, like me, who are tempted to put on the cloak of shame which so many other moms would gladly tie on to us. 

Here is the thing.  Are childhood psychiatric “labels” overdone?   Probably.  Are kids over-medicated?   Yes, some of them.  Do we have a parenting crisis in our days?  I believe so.  Would more effective and present parenting take care of many of the psychiatric “labels” that we’re seeing?  Likely, in some situations. 

But, I’m not here to try and impact the world or change the standard of child psychiatric care.  I’m just here to share with my little circle of friends, most of whom are active in churches and trying to “be” the body of Christ in their communities.  I have something I need to say to you concerning this issue. 

What’s the old saying, “Don’t judge a man ‘til you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins?”  I want to confess that I have been so, so guilty of judging a man in moccasins as I’ve stood gawking from my flip-flops.  I have actually watched diligent mothers wrestling children in the halls at church and thought to myself, “If they would just discipline that child better.  They need to show him who is in charge.”  I look back on my actions and attitudes and I am appalled.  I pray that God will use our experiences to change the way I respond to people in those situations.  Because I am now very experienced at being the mama who has tears in her eyes because she simply cannot “control” her child’s behavior.  I am the mama who has dreaded the pitter patter of little feet in the morning because I know that means that the exhausting day of battle is about to begin.   I have been the mama who has laid awake at night and wondered how I was going to survive until my child’s 18^th birthday. 

Thank God, I am also the mama who recognized that something simply was not right with my child.  I could look at the attempts to play with others, the inability to focus, that constant talking, the outright defiance, and realize that it wasn’t because I wasn’t disciplining enough or loving enough or consistent enough…something was wrong.  I am the mama who sent the e-mail, regardless of the fear and the shame that might come by asking for help, and reached out to professionals.  You know, those “evil” professionals that would dare to label a precious child.  I am the mama who has now listened as counselors on two different continents have educated and encouraged and affirmed us in a way that I desperately needed to experience. 

I am also the mama who doesn’t want her child to be defined by a “label.”  I want to use that “label” to give him opportunities to do absolutely anything the Lord leads him to do.  I believe that recognizing the “label” can equip us to deal with the realities we live in.  I am the mama who sees how the “label” has allowed us to get the services and even the medications that are making huge gains possible in our home. I am the mama who sees a child who is moving from “I can’t do anything right” to “Look mom, I am helping!” 

So, why do I feel that I need to share this?  Because I’m also the mama that sees eyebrows raised in quiet judgement when the topic comes up in a church hallway.  I’m the mama who has heard the suggestions about diet change and discipline methods.  I’m the mama who has had other mamas whisper to me that they understand and they know their own child needs help, but they are too afraid of the reactions from __________________________ (insert any variety of relationships here.)

Can I just say something here?  Let’s come alongside these mamas.  Let’s cheer them on.  When you know there is a child in your Sunday School class or your children’s Sunday School class who is “that” child, how about we invite that mama to coffee.  How about we love them instead of judging them?  How about we have them, and their child over for a play date (I can promise you, “those” children don’t get many invitations AND what they’re dealing with isn’t contagious.)  If we can’t do that, how about we simply pray for them and speak a kind word whenever we have the opportunity?

Here’s the thing.  If the child does just need a bit of discipline, you could help to model that and help that mama find the strength to try it.   A hint here, this is usually done through actions and time together far more effectively than through lectures or words.  You could be part of the village that loves that child well.  It could be that mama has no idea what healthy parent/child relationships look like.

If that mama is worried and wonders if she needs to seek some help for that child, you could be the cheerleader who helps her navigate that scary path.  You could help her face her fears as she gathers and sifts through information.  

If that mama is facing the reality of that  “label,” you can be one of those who helps her remember that her child is valuable and precious and made in the image of God.   You can speak words of renewal and encouragement when she’s weary from the battle.  When the path is one step forward and two steps back, you can listen through her tears. 

 

What about that, my church friends, what about we rally around these mamas and their families?  I don’t know what the answer is, but I do know that love and support and encouragement go a long way.   A whole lot farther than standing in our flip flops and critiquing other’s moccasins.