The Autodidact

It's the calm before the storm, and I feel a fog enveloping me, making me slow and almost sluggish.  My husband's little brother is slipping away and I am being still. I shouldn't feel this peaceful; there are children to feed, diapers to change, laundry to wash, a graduation party to prepare for, company coming. I've been living in two separate worlds for almost 3 weeks- one of daily chores and running a house, and one of grief and waiting and meetings with hospital staff. The younger children's needs haven't changed and their lives continue on the same course; the teenagers are feeling sad but still caught up in their own lives, and my husband's needs have changed dramatically. And this is where the peace and grace of God come in. I am so aware of His hand, guiding me through, helping me to be all things to my family. This is not of my own power; my natural inclination is to become overwhelmed and over-emotional, but all I am finding right now is a stillne...

     I'm walking through a valley right now, walking through it next to my husband. His baby brother's life has hung in the balance for almost a week now. It's so hard for me to watch my man go through this nightmare. I stand by, looking on helplessly, wanting to take some of the pain and worry away, praying for a miracle, that his brother would recover and live life once again. But there's nothing I can do, but wait and watch, look for small ways I can help him, pray for him. All I can do is walk along beside him, try to keep life normal, organized. He may have difficult decisions to make, and I pray that I can help him think clearly and have courage.      During times like these, especially, I am so aware of how we are all hanging by a thread, of how God is the One who gives us our very breath, our heartbeats, our lives. When all is going well in my life, I am so prone to forget this, and sail through my days breezily. But, now, the days are heavy with d...

My husband and I spent the first ten years or so of our marriage in an old duplex he bought back in the late 80's. It's approaching the century mark and has all the quirks and class and charm of a house that age. Recently, we had a rare break between tenants; enough time to clean thoroughly and make repairs, and reminisce. Whenever I get to indulge in cleaning my old house, I think back to birthdays and holidays, fun times and sad times, all the work and play that went on when we lived there. But I also like to imagine what that house was like when it was new, and all the memories stored up in a two-family house that's almost a hundred years old. What kinds of books were on these shelves? How many people have warmed themselves in front of the fireplace? Did the radiators sing and whistle when they were new? And look at all the chutes: coal, milk and laundry. (The Donley Brothers Company,apparently the  authority on coal burning appliances in the 1920's,...

I've never really liked coloring books. Over the years, people have given my kids coloring books and I sometimes let them indulge in coloring inside the lines for a few pages. But for the most part, I have had a steady supply of crayons and colored pencils and watercolors and paper available for my kids. From early ages, my kids have been scribbling and drawing on blank paper and have managed to express themselves more or less to their own satisfaction. I think coloring books stifle a child's imagination, and force them to conform to someone else's. I do have plenty of how-to drawing books that teach how to interpret and draw, but the work is up to the child. There's nothing like a blank piece of paper to stimulate a child and allow them to let their imagination run wild. I guess some people think that being able to color inside the lines is somehow a sign of dexterity or mature small-motor skills, and maybe that's true. I think it's also a sign of a kid who has...