I *Love* Our Church

Sprout made his first Confession this month, and we are so proud of him.  He was thoughtful and earnest and prayerful.  He continues to amaze his parents with the depth and intimacy of his relationship to God!

There was a short liturgy before all the kids went to their first Confession, and while we waited, there was ample time to sit and pray and reflect and stop fights between the girls and pick Cheerios up off the floor.  I saw Sprout's CCD teachers stop and talk to him and smile.  I saw Sprout bouncing up and down with excitement and nerves, waiting in line with his friends.  I saw our wonderful Pastor stop to tell the girls how pretty they looked in their dresses and give Sprout a congratulatory high-five.

And it felt like home.  Our church is a 1970s-model, angular and modern and stark.  But it's filled with the most compassionate, loving, earnest people you could ever meet.  There are ordinary people there, in this ordinary building, doing extraordinary things.  There is prayer and love and support.  A wonderful woman has made lovely quilts for each of our children when they were brand-new.  The parents at the school filled our fridge to overflowing with homemade meals when Doodle was born.  When asked, with no notice, to donate the funds to buy a crisis pregnancy center an ultrasound machine - they responded by piling the basket with enough money for three of them.

Back when we were newlyweds, Super-Smart Hunky Husband (SSHH) and I made the trip of a lifetime to Rome, during Holy Week.  We spent a lot of time poking around all the nooks and crannies of the Vatican, and we soaked up all the power of the Holy Week Masses.  They were beautiful.  But the only moment that truly left me awestruck was when a million people hit their knees during the Passion on Good Friday in St. Peter's Square.  That was the only moment where there was a sense of community.

The Church isn't Rome, it isn't stained glass and incense and Latin.  It isn't choirs and cathedrals.  Christ said He is there "where two or three are gathered in my name," and that's all it takes.  While we were in Rome, I told SSHH that as nice as it all was - God wasn't there the way He was in our church at home.  He wasn't in St. Peter's Cathedral the way He was in the run-down auditorium where we attended Mass in graduate school - shared for services with the college Jewish and Muslim communities, and we had to move the altar in and out for each Mass.  There was community in that place, and there is community in our church now.

And I'm so glad our kids are getting to grow up with this community.  Like any family, there are petty squabbles and the occasional grouchiness.  But there's a lot of love and support and caring, too.  Some day we'll dig into our couch cushions, empty our pockets, and take our family back to Rome - but it's our church, with weird pink carpeting and hearts full of grace, that I hope they'll think of first when they think of their faith.

The Henry Homeschool Goes to Sochi

The winter doldrums hit hard.  And they can hit really hard when you're all cooped up together all day, the weather is lousy, and it's hard to get out to the playground, out for field trips, or just out to the backyard.  There are too many worksheets and not enough fun.  And I've been getting a bit frustrated with regimented work-style of Kolbe, too.  It was fantastic in the earliest days when the hand-holding was reassuring, but now that we're finding our homeschooling feet, it's frustrating to feel the need to cover all of the material just the way it's outlined in the syllabus.

I'd decided that we'd try to work in some more fun this Spring, and Sprout asked to learn about dogs.  Great - we'd learn about health and anatomy for science, read some dog-themed books for reading, learn about dogs in history and dogs around the world, maybe do a service project with the animal shelter... there were plenty of things to learn.  Homeschool-land calls this "unit studies," and while it had sounded like a great idea from the start, the amount of work to do it well was overwhelming and I had dismissed it as an option for us right now simply because I don't have the time to put together a well-rounded program.

Enter the interwebz!  A homeschool friend said she and her kids were doing a unit study on the Olympics, and posted a link to a prepared curriculum.  And WOW, it is so easy!  The woman who wrote the curriculum provides a hundred-page plan for a month-long study of the Sochi Olympics - complete with Russian history and culture, geography, reading assignments, vocabulary words, learning about health and exercise and the body, ways to try out different sports, the science behind bobsledding (seriously!), and loads of fun videos and websites already checked out for kid-friendliness.  There are even two sets of plans for every day, for older kids and younger ones, with longer, more research-intensive assignments for the older kids.  Sprout is doing the science, history, and geography work from the lower level plans, but the vocabulary from the upper level plans - it's offered us just the right kind of flexibility.

And so we've (virtually) gone to Sochi this week!  Sprout is having fun watching videos about snowboarding and calling it "school," and he's able to follow the lessons himself since the document comes complete with hyperlinks to all the resources he needs to do the work.  Once the Olympics start we'll watch some of it together, maybe try out some of the sports (ice skating trip, anyone?), and make some Russian food.  I'm getting more comfortable with the idea that at this age, the "real" subjects are readin', 'ritin', and 'rithmetic - and those need a curriculum and a solid, year-long plan.  Everything else?  Well, second grade is all about exploration and building interest, even in a public or private school.  History is usually learning about events surrounding major holidays, science is checking out some fun experiments or learning about planets or dinosaurs or something "exciting."  The hard stuff comes later.  And so as long as we keep learning, it's fine that we're talking about Russian culture and Greek history and learning about speed skating and the science of snow - we're learning and moving forward and having fun.

Along with the Sochi Olympics unit study plans, there were ready-made lessons for dogs and our other Spring project, learning about plants and planting a garden.  So the rest of our year is planned out with very little stress and headache on my part - and it's looking like fun!

The little ones are getting into the learning groove, too.  SweetPotato wanted to "do school" with her big brother and sister, and so every morning now she runs to get her little folder with a tracing or coloring worksheet or two.  She's only three and so we don't really care what she's doing - but she's so excited to have "work" along with everyone else.

And SweetPea, who just turned five, is now doing addition and subtraction, and can read short books and write all of her letters and little words and sentences, and wants to do more.  So I took the plunge and ordered math and reading and religion books for kindergarten.  She is so excited to have a daily plan just like Sprout, and as long as she's happy and excited to learn, we'll let her do as much as she likes.

So winter is getting too long and we're looking forward to taking school on the road and to the playground again - but we're finding ways to stay occupied and keep things interesting while we're stuck in the house.  And I feel like we're getting over a big hump in the homeschool learning curve - even when things are "boring" we're all better able to stay focused and respectful and patient, and that's been a blessing.

Responding with Love

Today marks the end of our first semester of homeschooling - it feels like we should throw a party or something!  We still have kinks to work out and things to learn, but we're a thousand times wiser than we were a few months ago.  Some of the days have been fantastic.  Some of them I'd rather not relive.

Lest you think that homeschooling is all field trips and science experiments in your pajamas and reading books as a family - it ain't.  We've had our share of what I pray are growing pains as we've started this endeavor, and they've been so very hard, and there are days when it feels like a giant wedge is being driven between all of the members of our family.

Sprout is a bright independent kid, and some days he tears through his work and is happily finished well before lunch.  But sometimes he uses his talents in ways like back talk... and arguing... and shouting... and inventing 9574 reasons why he cannot even write one word on his paper.  He's an epic arguer, and I am always so, so tempted to argue and yell right back at him.  He didn't back talk in a traditional school - but  there was the threat of telling the principal, or telling one's parents, and so the teachers had "backup" for whatever they did.

When you're homeschooling, you lose the disciplinary backup.  And that's been the hardest part of the whole year so far.  It's just you and your child, and it's so easy to get locked in a battle of wills.  There's no third party to be the enforcer.  Last year Sprout threw a fit over doing a particular piece of homework, and when it wasn't done by bedtime, I had him write a note to his teacher explaining that it wasn't done because he was being disrespectful and argued about his work.  He was mortified, and that note made more of an impression on him than any punishment I could have meted out.

But you lose that option when you're homeschooling, and while it's certainly easier, I don't really want my kids to do their work out of fear of reprisal anyway.  We don't parent that way.  But that still left us without recourse when Sprout would dig in his heels, and I'd find myself standing there not infrequently, fists balled tight while he whined to me a litany of reasons why grammar was stupid.

We are blessed to have a great Catholic homeschool group, and I told some of the experienced moms there about our plight.  And they laughed and said "sounds like a perfectly normal first year of homeschooling!" One of them commiserated, "the first year is when your family roles get redefined, and it's hard.  I know, when they get to arguing like that, it's so hard to respond with love."

That really made it clear to me what was going on.  Sprout was having a hard time figuring out how to deal with mom and dad the teacher - just as I was having a hard time figuring out what to do with Sprout the student.  And I was treating his acting out as a problem in and of itself, instead of as a symptom of a larger problem.  And so I thought about what it must be like from his perspective, to suddenly have your parents - who have always been the fun ones and your allies - be put into a critical role, grading your work and keeping you at the grindstone.  I thought about how it is too much to ask of an eight year-old to sit and work independently for any length of time - using a traditional school as a benchmark, even working independently for fifteen minutes is too long.

And so I started to approach things differently.  Instead of yelling and nagging, Sprout and I were going to become partners in this.  It's not my job to teach him - it's my job to help him learn.  When he's frustrated with the difficulty or the length or the boredom of schoolwork, it's my job to work with him to find a way through that.  We're playing on the same team here, and all of our issues need to be approached as a joint venture.

And I try - sometimes unsuccessfully - to always respond with love.  When I come out from a conference call or diaper change and Sprout is doodling instead of working, I try not to nag at him about "staying focused."  Instead, I invite him to bring his work to wherever I am at the moment - to the little table in the nursery while I rock Doodle, to the dining room table while I work on a report - and we tackle it together.  We talk about what he's doing, he proudly shows me when he's finished a tricky problem, he asks for advice on things he doesn't understand.

It's been so much better.  I won't pretend that we don't still have arguments or the occasional backtalk - but it's much easier to stop that in it's tracks and most importantly, we're having fun.  Lots of fun.  Sprout is being respectful to me, and, just as important, I'm being respectful to him.  We're in this together, and I'm starting to get a glimpse of that "family closeness" all the homeschooling bloggers go on and on about.

We're wrapping up our first semester today.  Sprout has learned cursive and how to write a paragraph.  He's learned multiplication and division.  He's learned typing and geography and grammar.  And he's learned how to organize his thoughts and his work, how to get things done in the midst of distractions, and how to keep himself motivated.  I've learned how to grade his work and prep his lessons with assembly-line efficiency, and how to do at least five things at once, as I help SweetPea read while organizing Sprout's math work while I nurse Doodle while I type a work e-mail while I scrape banana out of SweetPotato's hair.  I've learned how to be an ally and a friend to my son.  I've learned how to discipline without punishing.

I think I've learned more than he has, actually.  And back when we decided to start homeschooling that was one of the things we wanted - to learn and grow as a family.  And we have, but not in the way I thought we would.  The growth has been more personal than academic.  It's been really hard at times.  But I think that Sprout and I are starting to get through the rocky parts, and I think we're starting to be partners in learning - both of us.

Following Mary

I find most "Catholic art" to be really ugly.  Maybe it's my Protestant upbringing, but I have a hard time feeling inspired by images of rapturous saints with gilt halos.  They seem almost comical or farcical, and they certainly don't lead me to prayer.  And I realize I'm increasing my time in purgatory by saying this, but I can't stand most images of Mary, either.  She usually looks meek, silent, going along with the flow - and really sort of spineless in her devotion.

And that doesn't lead me to Mary.  Neither does "gentle Mother" or "mild Virgin."  Because the way I see it, Mary wasn't a sweet pliant young thing.  She wasn't a beautiful ethereal young waif, she didn't float through life lost in prayer.  And I have a hard time finding much about her that was gentle or mild - and I don't even know that those would be assets.

Mary was gritty.  She was tough.  She was full of life.  She stood her ground.  She was brave.  Think about it:  when the angel Gabriel came to tell her she was pregnant, she marched herself right over to Joseph and told him about the baby.  Can you imagine?  "Um, Joseph, I know we've never, um, you know.  But I'm pregnant.  But, um, don't worry - it's God's child."  That took some cajones!  Women were not infrequently stoned for less.

Mary arrived in Bethlehem in labor.  She had a baby in a barn.  She protected him fiercely, traveling hundreds of miles with her newborn, exhausted and hurting after childbirth. She must have not infrequently been the object  of gossip, having a baby not-nine-months after her marriage.  People looked at her funny, talked behind her back.  And it didn't get easier as Jesus grew up.  He may have been without sin, but that doesn't mean he was easy.  He disappeared for three days in the temple, and when he was found Mary gave him a good talking-to - apparently not without effect for we learn that afterwards Jesus "was obedient."  Was the Son of God grounded?  Did Mary take away his donkey for a week?  Did she have to be a "tough mom?"  She stood by her son's side as he was executed.  She was made of steel.

And Mary enjoyed a good time.  It was she who asked Jesus to turn the water into wine when a shortage threatened to ruin a wedding party.  She was friends with the women of her community.  She wasn't afraid of a crowd.

And all this might be a bit irreverent, but I find it useful.  If we can approach Christ through Mary, we don't need to do it pining and adoring and sighing.  We can stand up straight and honest and brave.  Mary did.  God's gift to her was a challenge.  It was an act of courage and faith to say "yes" to the gift of Christ, for that gift would also be the greatest challenge of her life.  Really, God's gifts are always challenges.  They stretch us, make us step up to the plate, make us grow beyond where we thought we could.

And if all of God's gifts are challenges, then accepting them is an act of courage.  My favorite prayer of the Mass is when we say that "I am not worthy that You should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed."  The unworthiness shows itself as being afraid to accept God's gifts.  It's tempting to reject them - to say, for example, "thanks, but I've got my boy and my girl, so no more children for me." It's tempting to say "I'll just put them on the bus and send them to school."  When, as Sprout did today, your child yells at you that you're "the worst mom ever in the whole world!!!" it's tempting to just holler back and not look for the opportunity to show love in that moment.  Mary was brave.  She stood tough.  God offered her His greatest gift - and His greatest challenge - and with her "yes" she accepted it and took its weight on her shoulders.

God's gifts aren't easy, and I think maybe that's where we're called to follow Mary.  And we do it by being courageous, unafraid, countercultural, full of life.  If we are too gentle, too mild, we'll crumple under His gifts.

There's a church a few blocks from my office and when work is quiet I go to daily Mass.  There's a statue of Mary there, holding a toddler Jesus, with flowing robes and a beautiful face.  But her eyes are steely and her jaw is set and she has an arm protectively around Christ.  She is solid, she is strong.  She is resolute and aware and unafraid.  That's the Mary that brings me closer to Christ, and that's the Mary that I want to follow.