Oliver's first

Today we celebrated one year of Oliver Richard.

 taken at breakfast-- his first breakfast as a ONE YEAR OLD

Our little man, pleasant and ready to smile and quick to laugh, has made these past months rather idyllic, I must say. He's slept like a dream from day one, nursed and grown like a champ, gone with the flow continually, endured the doting and hauling around and antics of six older siblings, and in so doing captured our hearts entirely.

Oliver may be the seventh baby to grace our lives and family, but it's truer than ever that the miracle of life never gets old: he has been cherished as effortlessly and thoroughly as if he was the first. Indeed, he has perhaps been celebrated all the more because he has an audience of not one or two or three but eight cheering him on in each new endeavor and milestone!

We marked his first birthday with a simple dinner and a few small gifts here at home. Nana and Papa and Uncle Merrick joined us around the dining room table. We lit candles and sang happy birthday and he, of course, didn't have a clue as to what it was all about, but one day he'll look back at pictures and I hope they help him know a little of how deeply loved he is.

I am so thankful for Oliver. Thankful for the fresh grace and the promise of obedience rewarded that he has represented to me. Thankful for the image bearer of God that he is. Thankful for the destiny wrapped up inside him, and for the privilege of stewarding him for this season.

He took in the singing and joined us at the end with delighted clapping!

Cookies, Oliver, and Peace

I am between batches of Christmas cookies: the rum logs have been baked, cooled, and decorated; the chocolate dipped butter cookies have been baked and are cooling (awaiting their chocolate dip); and the pecan tassie dough is chilling in the fridge. It won't be long before the kitchen table-- all 92" of it-- is covered in cookies.

The little boys are presently overlapping naps (this is a precious and usually non-existent occurrence) so while the older kids begin a movie, I cleaned up the kitchen, heated myself some leftovers, and sat down to catch my breath.

Each day this week is plotted out: which foods I need to prepare when, what dishes will be used, when the gifts will get prepared and the final decor arranged. I don't foresee much lingering by the Christmas tree or snuggling up under a blanket for a holiday movie with the kids in my immediate future!

The truth is, I love this work-- this getting ready for special occasions and to celebrate people who mean so much to Daniel and me work!

And somewhere in here, we will sneak in a birthday dinner for the littlest boy in this home. Our delightful, beautiful Oliver Richard. Just this morning I was watching him stand and clap and smile-- such a bright smile that reaches right into my heart!-- and I couldn't help but think that he really is one of the prettiest babies I've ever seen. Peaches and cream skin, ready smile, dimpled hands and arms and legs, twinkly eyes.

A year ago was a snowy Sunday. Many regular attenders didn't even make it out of their driveways to church. The following Sunday we would have to stay at home because of a state of emergency in our state due to winter storms. And right in-between that streak of horrendous weather, we had clear skies and crisp air to accompany a trip to Watertown and back where our little baby was brought into the world.

I was definitely anxious about being induced, but God had a plan.

Oliver Richard means "peace, dominant ruler." The verse on our hearts as we anticipated the birth of our baby was Isaiah 9:6, Of the increase of His government and peace There will be no end. This is a verse, of course, that is on many of our hearts this time of year. We didn't see it as coincidence that we would be drawn to it for our only December baby!

But the idea of the peace of God is a concept I find myself constantly needing to be renewed in over the years, and especially one that I had been chewing on since the spring before when my dad preached a message about Gideon.

Peace isn't a feeling. It isn't an emotion. It isn't a state of everything being perfect.

Peace is Jesus bringing His reign and order to the chaos that is my broken life and this broken world.

And of the increase of that, there will be no end.

Oliver is a prophetic declaration to me, and prayerfully to his generation: there is chaos and darkness, but in the midst of that, God had a plan. He sent His Son to redeem. His reign has been established-- it is finished!-- and the peace that accompanies His rule only increases day by day by day.

I hope that tomorrow, between more Christmas party prep and wrapping a few small things for a simple birthday dinner, I will be able to write more about Oliver. But today, these were the thoughts on my heart as I celebrate my baby's first birthday, as I anticipate Christmas Day, and as I yearn for the day Jesus returns.

December

I doubt that I'm alone in that December is one of my favorite months of the year.

It's not because I like the temperature. (I don't.)
It's not because I like how little daylight we get. (I don't.)
It's not because I like snow. (I do for about a day.)
It's not because I like overindulging in Christmas cookies. (Okay, I do in the moment, but it's always quickly regrettable.)

I love December because a hush seems to fall over me this time of year; a purposeful pause; a deep soul inhaling and exhaling. I always mean to live life in a peace-centered way, but the truth is that some seasons (quite literally) feel more pressured than others.

There's something about December that begs for lingering around a simple dinner table just a few minutes longer.

Something that stops me short in my normal routine and cries out for little opportunities to be woven throughout the day in order to better cherish the people around me.

I wrap myself in a blanket first thing in the morning and open my Bible and here by the tree I find myself considering afresh the kind of God I serve: generous, faithful, pursuing, redemptive. And maybe it's the mood-lighting but really I think it's just that I am rehearsing the Gospel again that makes my eyes fill with tears and my heart fill with hope once again.

I fill the house with candles and freshly baked smells, and there are secret whispers and hesitantly expressed wishes and holiday music. Together, we share these things.

I find myself reaching out more to all those I love this time of year, His expression of reaching out compelling me to a love offering of the same kind. The coffee pot is ready, the cookie tins are filled, the door is open.

Children, their eyes bright, their excitement at times too exuberant (!), their hearts hopeful, their embraces ready.

I pass on the traditions and hope that the traditions in and of themselves never become a burdensome requirement, but simply that they will be memories cherished, truths illustrated, a celebration made big.

Special stacks of Christmas books and stockings hung in a row and-- oh my!-- red beaded garland here and orange and clove garland there and mistletoe garland yet there. Rehearsing music and planning parties. Quiet nights with the agenda cleared.

This is what December means to me:

A Baby, born of a virgin, destined for a Cross. His pain inevitable, His victory certain. God incarnate, with us, with me, here and now and forever and always.

Me, remembering what it's all about, falling in love with my Savior again, growing surer in Who He is and less concerned with who I am, wanting everything about me and my existence-- especially in this season-- to echo the joyous cry:

Glory to God in the highest!

And on earth peace, goodwill toward men.

my blonde-haired boy

Fierce. Passionate. Gifted.

If you ask me what are the words that describe Elliot Hale, these are the first that come to mind.

He loves what he loves.

He hates what he hates.

He wants what he wants.

Don't bother trying to coax him into changing his mind; pretty much the only way for his mind to be changed is through a clashing of wills. Sometimes I almost think there's something in the way he's wired that looks for the fight.

My little prophet Elijah, my tiny protective shepherd-boy David, ready to take on the enemy of his hour.

Even before he was talking much, he would notice patterns and eagerly point them out to me: logos, designs, hair styles, colors and shapes and sizes on various objects and signs.

He knows every sound that every letter makes, not because I've taught him, but because he has gleaned much from my work with Aubrey. His little mind gathering, absorbing, filing away.

And, of course, he's been comfortable with a ball in his hand longer than he's been walking.

These days, though, there are new words that come to mind equally fast when I think of Elliot.

Affectionate. Excited. Celebratory. Growing.

I see his little heart being shaped and it is breathtaking. Let me be honest and say that I wish I'd had faith for this more before now, but the truth is that at times I've simply hung onto the truths of the Word of God in relation to training because it was just so hard. But now? Now when he sets his jaw and very purposefully puts his hand in mine to cross the street, it is almost more precious to me because I know the deep inward yielding it represents.

I tell him often, "Elliot, I want you to obey me because I want you to obey God," and these days he says it with me, so familiar are the words.

He loves to celebrate people, which is a new thing erupting from his little heart. His proudest moment perhaps ever was when he "helped" Daniel make my birthday cake. "Mama, I made birthday cake for you!"

When one of the other kids makes a good play in a game or creates a nice piece of artwork or is brave while enduring something unpleasant, he is very quick to take note and shower said person with encouragement.

Often when he is struggling with disappointment or the agony of submitting to my leadership or just having a rough day, the surest way to minister to him is to pull him onto my lap, hold him close, and sing his favorite hymn, Great Is Thy Faithfulness. He melts in those moments, his little arms pulling my head down close to his.

We share some tight heart strings, my Elliot Hale and I. He has challenged me and I have challenged him. He has forgiven and loved me, and I have forgiven and loved him. Such a powerful person in an altogether not-so-big package.

There is much more to be accomplished in him and me as we walk this journey, mother and son, together, but lately I have been so reminded in a multitude of little things that God is at work in us both and He will be faithful.

And she cleared it!

When Aubrey was in the NICU as a newborn, her team of cardiologists began calling her "The Unsinkable Aubrey Paladin" because she seemed to defy medical odds and projections at every turn. In the most recent letter we received from them (in which they asked to do the heart catheterization because of their concerns about increasing pressure in her heart) they wrote, "Aubrey continues to stump the stars."

We know beyond a shadow of a doubt Who is upholding this precious girl. The One who fashioned her, deposited His likeness in her, and knew long before we did that there was anything wrong with her has sustained her and caused her to thrive even when she shouldn't.

Well, Aubrey faced another hurdle-- and she has cleared another hurdle!

Just... tears and relief and incredible, mind-blowing, breath-evaporating awe that she continues to have this testimony. It's like every single time they make a projection or have a concern about Aubrey's declining health, God just keeps strengthening and renewing her.

The specific concern-- dangerously increasing pressure in her heart-- has been totally alleviated by the heart catheterization done this morning. In the words of her doctor to Daniel just in the last hour, spoken with a chuckle, "We are free to continue with our game plan, which is... to Sit Tight!"

My little trooper did a great job at enduring the procedure. Her doctors did a terrific job and the nurses are currently spoiling her like crazy.

Most of all, God continues to show Himself strong on Aubrey's behalf. May He be glorified more and more and more in her life!

Another hurdle

Tomorrow morning, Aubrey will face a small hurdle in this race she's running. Her cardiologists have asked to do a heart catheterization in order to investigate what has looked, in recent echocardiograms, like increasing pressure in her pulmonary artery. It is a very minor procedure in the grand scheme of things, but the outcome could bear significantly on how soon she would need major heart surgery.

We prayed for her yesterday in church and I humbly ask that if she comes to mind, you pray with me for her tomorrow, as well.

She has been counting down the days, but not in fear. On the contrary, she is making a special, "just her" trip with Daddy and has been beyond excited as she looks forward to it! In turn, I am beyond blessed by this amazing man who has helped carry her (and me) through each day of her life.

I just love her scrunched-up-with-happiness nose in this picture as her daddy arrived home and then whisked her off on this adventure a bit ago!

I'll do my best to update on the results whenever we get them.

photo dump (and some accompanying verses)

So many beautiful, breathtaking moments this fall-- wedged into the busyness of life as a homeschooling family of nine. Moments that kept bringing my heart back to its center, moments gifted by a Heavenly Father who is daily, line upon line, precept upon precept, teaching me to not get overwhelmed or unduly anxious or inappropriately frustrated, moments that help me remember Who this is all about.

It's not about me.

It's not about my kids.

It's not about my generation or their generation.

It's about Him.

We are part of His story, and the sooner and better we learn that, the more joy we experience in each and every bit of our existence.

What's funny is that these moments are usually very much tied to this life I've been given, these children I'm stewarding, this mission we're about-- and yet when He is fixing my vision, I see right through the temporal, to the One who is eternal and forever praiseworthy; glimpses of the permanent right in the midst of that which is passing away.

For only a penny you can buy two sparrows, yet not one sparrow falls to the ground without your Father's consent. As for you, even the hairs of your head have all been counted. So do not be afraid; you are worth much more than many sparrows!

 My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never die. No one can snatch them away from me. What my Father has given me is greater than everything, and no one can snatch them away from the Father's care.

Don’t you see that children are God’s best gift? the fruit of the womb his generous legacy?
Like a warrior’s fistful of arrows are the children of a vigorous youth.
Oh, how blessed are you parents, with your quivers full of children!
Your enemies don’t stand a chance against you; you’ll sweep them right off your doorstep.

 The Lord upholds all who fall, And raises up all who are bowed down.

The eyes of all look expectantly to You, And You give them their food in due season.

You open Your hand And satisfy the desire of every living thing.

 

They find joy in obeying the Law of the Lord, and they study it day and night.

They are like trees that grow beside a stream,

that bear fruit at the right time, and whose leaves do not dry up.

(emphasis mine)

Behold, the Lord God shall come with a strong hand, And His arm shall rule for Him;

Behold, His reward is with Him, And His work before Him.

He will feed His flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs with His arm,

And carry them in His bosom, And gently lead those who are with young.

 For all the promises of God in Him are Yes, and in Him Amen, to the glory of God through us.

 For everyone who asks will receive, and anyone who seeks will find, and the door will be opened to those who knock. Would any of you who are fathers give your son a stone when he asks for bread? Or would you give him a snake when he asks for a fish? As bad as you are, you know how to give good things to your children. How much more, then, will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!

 The Lord is not slow to do what he has promised, as some think. Instead, he is patient with you, because he does not want anyone to be destroyed, but wants all to turn away from their sins.

 Jesus said, “Let the children come to me and do not stop them, because the Kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

 The wise woman builds her house,

But the foolish pulls it down with her hands.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day.

"Do not be worried and upset,” Jesus told them. “Believe in God and believe also in me. There are many rooms in my Father's house, and I am going to prepare a place for you. I would not tell you this if it were not so. And after I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to myself, so that you will be where I am."

Claire Evangeline = "bright bringer of good news"

Claire turned five years old on November 1st!

I was smitten by her as a baby, then I adored her as a toddler, and now I am daily delighted in her as a little girl. She is funny, forgiving, affectionate, warm, friendly, forthright, and generous.

Oh! So generous!

We celebrated with a small gathering of some of her favorite people, all of whom are adults and yet considered by her to be her best friends.

She wanted pizza ("Sergi's, Mom. Not yours." Well, then.) and salad with lettuce and carrots and peppers. Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting (smart girl). And musical chairs before presents.

And although it was altogether a very simple affair, the table was set with pretty pink napkins and pink chevron straws, the chalkboard was updated to duly note the big day, the guests were incredibly obliging, and she was queen for the night!

She has asked over and over and over again throughout the past couple years for an "American doll" like her big sisters. (They're not actually American Girl dolls but Gotz dolls, but she doesn't really care about the details.) This birthday was the special occasion in which she received her very own doll-- Marianne-- and she has already logged countless hours playing with her.

We are so thankful for our Claire Evangline, a true ray of sunshine in the lives of every person she encounters. A part of me wants to freeze her as the cute little girl who says the funny things (every sentence these days seems to begin with "Also?" as though her listeners have been part of the ongoing conversation in her head/day right along with her!), but I am equally eager to see her continue to develop into all that God has created her to be: a beacon of light declaring Good News to a world that is growing darker and darker all around her.

He won't grow weary

By dinnertime Monday evening, I was fried. It had been that kind of Monday for our family. The kind when we all tried quite unsuccessfully to recover from a busy and long weekend while getting a good jump on the week. I was snippy, I was losing my patience, I was annoyed.

"Jesus, I'm sorry for today. Help me enjoy the process," I prayed that night after I wearily tucked my children into bed, repenting to each one individually for my harshness, short-temper, and general irritation.

I get tired of hearing myself pray that. So, so, so tired. And sometimes-- a lot of times-- I am arrogant enough to superimpose my weariness with myself on Christ.

The truth of the matter is that He doesn't grow weary with me. 7x70 times, He forgives me. A broken and contrite spirit He will not deny.

Yesterday in the later afternoon, as I sat in the sunshine, enjoying the brilliant colors of this spectacular autumn, listening to my children play, nursing my baby, relishing the fact that even though the prior few days had been far from perfect, they had been joy-filled days, I realized that He had-- once again-- come to my rescue. In the midst of my exhaustion and defeat, He heard my repentance (repentance uttered in much doubt, if I'm honest) and He was again meeting me in my place of need.

No filter, guys. Just beautiful sunlight and a smooshy baby to kiss.

a Whole 30 breakfast

Since our month of eating Whole 30, Daniel and I have been much more aware of the negative effects of many foods that we used to regularly eat. The truth is that each person is going to "feel" foods differently, and it's super helpful to "learn" your body.

It seems silly to say because, well, didn't I know this (at least a little?!), but I've realized that sugar really bothers me. Way more than it bothers a lot of people. Like, my body is hyper-sensitive to it.

Not that it makes me hyper. (I kind of wish it did, since there are days I could use some hyper in my energy levels, actually!)

On the contrary, it makes me sluggish. It makes my stomach ache. It makes my eyes tired! It throws my pH balance way off. It makes me irritable.

And I can so easily become addicted to it.

This doesn't just apply to sugar, but all foods that the body quickly turns to glucose. Bread, pasta, rice, white potatoes, and basically all the goodness that I love and think of when I think of "special". (Scones, muffins, cinnamon buns, cookies, anyone???) I still eat that stuff, but I'm trying to keep it to what it needs to be for me: special.

To help balance the stuff that is bothersome and to combat hunger that leads to choices that wouldn't be very good for me, for the past month we've continued to do our best to eat Whole 30 for at least two meals a day. If I eat a breakfast that is Whole 30, I find that I'm full enough to make it through the morning without reaching for something quick and handy, which, let's be honest, is almost always something that's not Whole 30. That then leads to a better, more planned lunch rather than eating whatever will get in my belly the fastest.

One of our favorite and almost daily Go-To breakfasts is roasted veggies with fried or poached eggs for us and scrambled eggs for the kids. The veggies can be chopped the day before or first thing in the morning and then they get popped in the oven to roast while we busy ourselves with running, showering, having quiet times, etc. The eggs get cooked at the last minute. Easy-peasy and so, so, so yummy.

I'm telling you: if you don't like the sounds of this breakfast, it's because you've never had roasted veggies!

Pictured below is the tray just before I mixed it all with some olive oil, freshly ground black pepper, and kosher salt. There's nothing tricky about this. All I did was light a candle, turn on some Joni Mitchell, and chop for a blissfully quiet and still-dark 15 minutes before kids were all awake and I was catapulted into another busy day.

From top to bottom: mushrooms, parsnips, sweet potatoes, eggplant, red onion, and fresh thyme & rosemary. Roast in the oven at 400- or 425-degrees (depending on your oven) for 45-60 minutes. I like mine pretty caramelized (ie done)! Topped with a poached egg, which I devoured before I thought to take a picture, it was UH-MAZE-ING.

Romans

We are beginning a series on the book of Romans at church.

I always love when we do a series on a passage/book of the Bible, but I am especially eager for this one. Do you ever have seasons when you just need the Gospel all over again? Because I do-- often-- and right now I am hungrier than ever for it.

The Word of God is living and active. I know this to be true. And yet I am daily amazed by this reality; by its strength, comfort, power, renewing, truth, and awakening.

This soul of mine, so easily overcome by its own inadequacy and brokenness and filth, soars each and every time I learn again that He loves me, He has saved me, He is for me, He will come again for me!

"The just shall live by faith."

Not by works. Not by knowledge. Not by circumstances.

By faith.

It is finished

He has done it.

I need this every day.
Every. Single. Day.

If you can't join us as we work through this study together on Sunday mornings, listen online!

September beauty

Only three weeks into September and I feel that we have already lived the full gamut of what a homeschooling year looks like: highs, lows, successes, failures. Days I wake up excited and ready to go; days I wake up needing to dig deep into what I know to be true in order to put my hand to the plow again.

I was pretty reluctant heading into this new school year. Summer seemed so brief, so fleeting this year. I wanted just a little more, please.

But September came knocking, uninvited though she was. I dusted off the school cupboard, bought new pencils and paper, piled the basket high with library books, and took a deep breath.

And... wouldn't you know... September has been wonderful?

Wonderful in a crazy, emotion-filled, all-over-the-place, real life way.

Wonderful because all along the way-- if I stop long enough to look at the pictures on my phone!-- I realize how gently and faithfully and kindly He leads me.

(This glass-half-empty girl needs these pictures.
I need lots and lots of them.)

nature journals and mid-afternoon snacks

before dinner walks around the block

paper dolls and sister togetherness
 

easy entertainment

Saturday morning treats from Anastasia's Bakery

truth

diagramming sentences: my favorite!

 much-needed reminders on chaotic days

good old North Country beauty

(I think it's a good thing I'm usually too fried in the hectic moments to take pictures!)

seven years

When Aubrey was born seven years ago, there were naturally questions that tormented my heart and mind, especially in the first two days and then persisting through the nighttime hours when fears and grief seem to inevitably expand in the weight of darkness.

Why, God?
What did I do wrong?
Where are You in this?
Why won't You make it all go away?

I would say day by day except that early on it truly was moment by moment, He washed me with the Word, some verses becoming so familiar that at times I would find my lips forming the words even before awakening fully came. I clung so very desperately to the hope of eternity, to the promise of His love.

The truth is that I had to; I felt emptied and stripped of everything else.

I distinctly remember standing at the kitchen sink one evening shortly after we had brought Aubrey home from the neonatal intensive care unit, washing dishes, a candle flickering on the window sill before me. I could hear the sounds of Daniel readying children for bed upstairs. The furnace was blowing, comfortingly noisy, and everything was very normal after an up-until-then turned-upside-down fall.

Except that it wasn't normal.

My infant daughter had a totally messed up heart; a heart so unique in its messed-up-ness that nobody could even tell me what to expect, nobody could tell me what kind of surgery she would need, nobody could tell me how long she would probably live.

The sick, aching pit of it all was there in my stomach, mostly under the surface but my constant companion, all the time.

And that was when the work of the Holy Spirit really began.

I had to stop asking questions. I had to stop the inward tantrum that I wanted to shout at every turn: it isn't fair! I had to stop fearing the worst and dreading the future. I had to give up, put off, lay aside, let die in order for the fruit of the Spirit to grow large in my heart and life.

Again, He washed me with the Word and He began to teach me how present He is in the midst; how to be thankful in every situation; how to treasure the eternal ways I had been permanently changed by Aubrey; how to cherish each moment better through having learned more intimately just how fragile life really is. He taught me how to see His handiwork in the darkest moments I had ever faced.

Fast forward seven years: seven years full of celebration, miraculous sustaining, marvelous good health! Moments along the way of testing and worry and battle, but a victory journey-- including coming off of all medications within a few short years-- overall, especially as time after time, the inevitable (but "the what kind" still up for debate) surgery gets pushed off yet again as Aubrey's vibrancy and vitality has made it unnecessary to undertake something so risky.

Still, in July I felt the familiar tentacles of fear wrapping around my heart as I began noticing Aubrey's coloring turning blueish more frequently. In spite of a less-than-humid summer, she complained about the heat and the sun more than usual. Fingers and face and toes got swollen much more easily. Her own awareness of the limitations of her heart dawned and now it was not only my eyes but also her own eyes filling with tears about it all at times.

Finish that off with confirming her poorest blood oxygen saturation levels yet (79%) in August.

Another opportunity to walk in faith. Another opportunity to reject the questions, the raised fists, the doubts. Another opportunity to give up, put off, lay aside, let die in order for the fruit of the Spirit to grow large in my heart and life.

And now to let Him grow large in her heart and life, too.

I don't know what the rest of Aubrey's days will look like. I have learned and continue to learn that I don't need to know with her any more than I know with the rest of my children. The same God who holds each of our lives in His hands holds her life, too. He has proven that He works and He works and He works. In me. Through me. In her. Through her. To grow, to build, to further.

We continue this victory journey, knowing that the real victory is when we stand before Him, face to face, and declare once and for all, "You are faithful to the end."

the real-deal nitty-gritty!

Well, we got our Big Rocks in today.

But sometimes that means the Pebbles and Sand don't get in.

Just keepin' it real, folks!

putting the Big Rocks in first

Years ago, when I first began this homeschooling journey, I knew that I wanted to embrace The Four Pillars of Christian Homeschooling that my own dear mother had stumbled upon and walked out and taught. I wanted this homeschooling thing to be about so much more than just academics. I agreed with her: I wanted it to be about firstly loving God, then loving home & family, then loving work, and then loving learning.

But how to make it practical and tangible in our daily ins and outs, I wondered?

I was very convinced that I needed to arrange my day so that not only was I telling my kids that this was the order of importance, but so that we were living it. I can't drum up love in their hearts for any of these things-- this is the work of the Holy Spirit-- but prayerfully I can live an example and create an environment that cooperates with and fosters this work!

And so our morning routine began seven years ago, when I had a 5-1/2-year-old boy as my only pupil and his three younger siblings (ages 4, 2-1/2, and 1) tagging along, with putting the Big Rocks in first.

Personal quiet times, even before they could really read and write.

Take a few minutes, look at that picture Bible, talk to Jesus, ask Him to speak to you.

Then, as learning progressed and years passed by, blank journals given so they can write in them: thoughts, impressions from what they're reading, prayer requests. At age 9 or 10, we've begun giving them as their Christmas or birthday gift a genuine leather Bible with their name embossed on it, and it is joy unspeakable that my oldest two prize these books as some of their most precious belongings.

Breakfast together, as much as possible. Whether it's just the kids (maybe I simply have to take a shower then because of something scheduled shortly after), the kids and I, or the entire family, I try very hard to make this one of the consistent things we do each day. Not so much because there's anything intrinsically important about a shared breakfast, but because it's an opportunity to early on each morning reinforce that family-- these relationships right here in the home-- matters. And this way, even if the rest of the day falls apart and we barely get a chance to breathe from here on in, we've had this time together.

How are you? How did you sleep? What are you excited about today? Did you read anything interesting in your quiet time?

Thirty minutes for us to connect over food. We read from our devotional, talk, memorize Scripture, pray.

Chores come next. In addition to this serving the practical purpose of getting things within our jurisdiction in order so that we can have more productive school time, learning to work hard is an important skill. I tell my kids all the time that when they are grown, their employer(s) will be far more impressed by how they can roll up their sleeves and get the job done than by how many facts they can rattle off, or how terrific their ideas are, or how smart they seem. Not that those things are bad (they aren't!), but are you also able to clean the toilet, swing the hammer, wash their feet when necessary?

Do what's asked without complaining. Work cheerfully as unto the Lord. Go above and beyond the call of duty. Serve.

This curriculum proves to be a lasting one. I need the reminders as often as they do!

Then learning, and how I pray this hunger for learning only increases in each of them! I don't want their education to be a series of facts put to memory, a book load of information filed away, data that has been downloaded; I want them to be curious about, excited for, drawn to, and always learning! I want them to learn a lifestyle of learning and I want it-- whatever it is at that particular moment-- to come alive.

I begin our school mornings with reading out loud to them, not because they can't read the same exact material on their own (three of them can), but because I like the practice of them learning to engage in this way.

What do you think of this? How would they have felt? Tell me what you just saw/heard! Do you see how orderly that is? What does this tell you about God?

We do things together as much as possible: science and history and nature journaling. We take the work outside, we accompany it with hot tea on cold mornings, we let ourselves travel down bunny trails, we create and draw and explore.

Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly generous, we even make a mess! (Ha!)

I'm thankful for seven years under our belt now of building upon these practices, of "emptying the jar" regularly in order to make sure we really are getting the Big Rocks in first. And guess what? The workbooks, the test, the line upon line, precept upon precept gets done! It calls to mind this verse:

Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions.

Don’t worry about missing out.

You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

Matthew 6:33

When we are obedient to what He's asking us to do, all else falls into its proper place. Perhaps it gets done, perhaps it doesn't. But what matters it that you did the most important things.

Perhaps you haven't yet decided what are the Big Rocks-- the most important goals-- in your home and for your family. May I suggest that you read The Four Pillars of Christian Homeschooling as a great place to work from?

Or perhaps you have the Big Rocks figured out, but the pressure of a culture that idolizes academics combined with the burden of trying to prove something as a homeschooling family has caused you to get in a rut of prioritizing something that isn't actually most important to you. I love the new school year and then the new calendar year for assessing and getting back on track!

Your Big Rocks may be the same as mine, but look different in practical outworking. That's okay! Just make sure you're doing them!