Mommy Brain

I came across a link on Semicolon to a thought-provoking article called Let’s Have More Teen Pregnancy by Frederica Matthewes-Green.

“A pattern of late marriage may actually increase the rate of divorce. During that initial decade of physical adulthood, young people may not be getting married, but they’re still falling in love. They fall in love, and break up, and undergo terrible pain, but find that with time they get over it. They may do this many times. Gradually, they get used to it; they learn that they can give their hearts away, and take them back again; they learn to shield their hearts from access in the first place. They learn to approach a relationship with the goal of getting what they want, and keep their bags packed by the door. By the time they marry they may have had many opportunities to learn how to walk away from a promise. They’ve been training for divorce.”

Please don’t let the title of this article scare you off. She makes some very good points — things I have been thinking about a lot lately. When I was growing up, we were admonished to remain physical virgins until we were married by our parents, pastors, basically all adults. But we were never warned of the emotional damage incurred by falling in love or infatuation over and over again, then breaking up or being broken up with.

I am heartened by the courtship movement. I have been encouraging my children that as they grow up, they should not even consider “dating” someone unless he/she is a person that God would approve of as their spouse. Why should they date for the sake of dating? Why put our children in temptation’s way, and then expect them to emerge unscathed?

I wish I had saved myself for my husband. Not only did I not save myself physically, something I admit with heartbreak, but I did not save myself emotionally. I had fallen in deep love four times before I met Kevin. Each one of those relationships caused emotional scars. I do not believe we were made to give our hearts intimately over and over again. I understand that there are circumstances where this happens: unavoidable divorce and then remarriage, or losing a spouse and remarrying. I do not want to judge anyone in these situations. But I hope and pray that when my children open themselves up to that kind of love and intimacy, it is with a person that they desire for their spouse, and it is a person who loves and serves God with all his heart, mind, soul, and strength.

I’ve also seen the damage done by long engagements and delaying marriage. As she states in her article, our bodies were made to desire sexual reproduction. We become physically ready for this at puberty. (I am NOT saying people should start reproducing at age 10 or 12, so don’t freak out!) It used to be that the teen years were preparation for adulthood, and many people married before 21 or 22 years of age. This is no longer the case. People see no reason to marry — they are having sex, so why rush things, right?

My sister’s best friend comes to mind. She met her beloved at church when they were both 16. They waited to start courting until they were 18. Everyone saw their love for each other and their love for their Lord. They seemed made for each other. Their parents agreed. But the groom’s parents refused to bless the marriage until he had finished college. They kept themselves pure and eventually were married. But those years were long and torturous for them, and much resentment was stored up against the groom’s parents. Why make them wait? Many couples work their way through college and are perfectly happy. Why must they be financially comfortable before it is “acceptable” to marry? It used to be that young couples were expected to be “poor” or at least financially challenged. Their families and church families helped where they could, and the couple grew close to each other as they worked together and spent time together since there was no money to do anything else!

I can see that this is turning into a rant, and I’ve probably ruffled a few feathers. I know that we think 19 or 20 is young to marry. But my parents married at 19, and have remained married and committed for 37 years. Many people in their generation and the ones before them married young, and their marriages have much better track records than the ones in my generation, that’s for sure! All I know is that when our children meet someone who loves God and meets the criteria we have for a godly spouse, we will not demand that they have a year- or two-year long engagement. It is better to marry than to burn, right? Why prolong the period of temptation. My husband and I were only engaged for three months, and we didn’t make it.

Oh, well, enough from me. I encourage you to click the link and read the article. It will make you think.

Here’s a short, condensed version of our week:

Two trips to the library, groceries purchased, (some) housework done, lots of laundry washed and still waiting to be folded.

Went to a luncheon for my ladies’ Bible study group.

Took the kids to the park.

Noah and Jonathan both had sleepovers on Wednesday night with their respective best buddies. Natalie was feeling left out, so I let her stay up till 10:00 watching The Waltons: The Complete First Season on DVD with me.

Found out we can’t get Noah a pet turtle for his birthday. Here’s why. Maybe in a few years. So now we’re back to square one for a birthday present. Any suggestions — he’s turning 7 — would be appreciated. Keep in mind we live in a rural area, and Walmart is pretty much our only choice for kids’ stuff.

Spent some time with my dad before he left to be a counselor for five days at Royal Family Kids’ Camp.

Finished a baby afghan for some friends that work with Kevin whose first baby is due in two weeks and picked out yarn and a pattern for some friends whose second baby is due in September.

Watched House and The Closer (lovingly recorded for me by my dad, since we only get FOX with our antenna).

Finished B is for Burglar by Sue Grafton and made it halfway through Evensong by Gail Godwin.

Scheduled a V/Q scan and blood tests to further investigate what’s causing my pleurisy.

Talked on the phone to my sister Deb for an hour and my sister Andrea for an hour and a half.

If there’s anything else, I’ve forgotten it.

Up for this weekend:

The older three have been invited to ride in the back of our friend’s pick-up during the rodeo parade and toss out candy. Tomorrow afternoon we will be on Main Street, camera at the ready, waiting for them to go by. Hopefully the weather will be different than today or we will be huddled under umbrellas.

Saturday night I’m going to the drive-in (Yes, we’re one of the few places in our country that still has one!) to see Monster-in-Law with my mom.

Sunday will be breakfast in bed and gifts for Daddy. The kids decorated a mug for him and I got him this.

I love the “Blog This!” feature on my Google toolbar. The problem is that I see so many things I want to link to, or comment on, that I end up with all these drafts waiting to be finished. And then I have to have time to get back to them!

So, onto the great article I read on Christianity Today.

It’s Hard to Be Like Jesus by Philip Yancey

“In my visits to churches overseas, one difference from North American Christians stands out sharply: their view of hardship and suffering. We who live in an age of unprecedented comfort seem obsessed with the problem of pain. Skeptics mention it as a major roadblock to faith, and believers struggle to come to terms with it. Prayer meetings in the U.S. often focus on illnesses and requests for healing. Not so elsewhere.

I asked a man who visits unregistered house churches in China whether Christians there pray for a change in harsh government policies. After thinking for a moment, he replied that not once had he heard a Chinese Christian pray for relief.

‘They assume they’ll face opposition,’ he said. ‘They can’t imagine anything else.’ “

This article makes some wonderful points about Christian suffering and the attraction that prosperity doctrine holds for many Americans. Definitely go read it.

Off to clean the bathroom. Have a wonderful weekend!

I saw this meme over on Quiet Life and decided to answer here so I could post the full text of my favorite poem.

Appetizer
What’s one word or phrase that you use a lot? “Know what I mean?” My husband laughs at me when I really go on a rant, because I use this phrase over and over again to make sure he’s tracking with me.

Soup
Name something you always seem to put off until the last minute. folding laundry

Salad
What is your favorite poem? Do you know it by heart? Mary’s Song by Luci Shaw. I do not have it memorized.

Mary’s Song

Blue homespun and the bend of my breast keep warm this small hot star fallen to my arms.
(Rest…You who have had so far to come.)
Now nearness satisfies the body of God sweetly.
Quiet He lies whose vigor hurled a universe.
He sleeps whose eyelids have not closed before.
His breath (so slight it seems no breath at all) once ruffled the dark deeps to sprout a world.
Charmed by dove’s voices, the whisper of straw, He dreams, hearing no music from His other spheres.
Breath, mouth, ears, eyes… He is curtailed who overflowed all skies, all years.
Older than eternity, now He is new.
Now native to earth as I am, nailed to my poor planet, caught that I might be free,
Blind in my womb to know my darkness ended,
Brought to this birth for me to be new-born,
And for Him to see me mended, I must see Him torn.

Main Course
If you could be invisible for one day, how would you spend your time? reading, blogging, whatever I wanted to do with no interruptions

Dessert
Suggest a website you think readers of Quiet Life might enjoy. Atypical Life is one of my favorites.

Oops, I forgot to add this to the previous post (the childhood meme). Just wanted any of you I tagged to know that if you don’t like doing these things, please just ignore it! I like them occasionally, but I know many people don’t — not that there’s anything wrong with that! ~grin~

I’m having a very busy week, but hope to post something worth reading soon. Tomorrow’s Friday already!

I’ve been sitting at the computer for an hour now, reading through all the blogs on my blogroll and IM-ing my hubby at work. I opened a window to write a blog post, and it’s been sitting here for about half an hour. I keep clicking back to it, thinking surely some brilliant idea for a post will be forthcoming. No such luck. Then I clicked over to Shades of Pink, and found I’ve been tagged. Now I have something to write!

First, I am to name five things I miss from childhood.

1. Dump runs with my dad. We used to all pile into the front seat of his big pick-up truck and head to the dump. On the way home we would stop for ice cream or frozen yogurt. I especially liked the times I got to go alone — just Daddy and me. With three sisters, this was one of the few times I had him to myself.

2. Our tire swing. We had a huge maple next to our driveway, with large branches that gave our house wonderful shade in the summer. My dad hung a tire swing from it, and we spent countless hours swinging, twirling. I liked to go out with a book, and disappear into the worlds of Trixie Belden, or Anne with an “e”, or the March sisters, all the while keeping the swing going in lazy circles with my big toe.

3. Fourth of July celebrations. My mom’s family lived in Idaho, but most of my dad’s family lived somewhere in western Washington, where I grew up. The 4th was “our” holiday. (Thanksgiving and Christmas were always at Grandma and Grandaddy’s, and Easter was at my aunt and uncles.) We’d have tons of food and make homemade ice cream with a handcrank machine. Then when it got dark, we’d bundle up — western Washington nights aren’t that warm in the beginning of July — and watch the fireworks. Every family would spend what they had hoarded for this purpose and we would have boxes and boxes of fireworks. Dad would set up his step ladder, and the men of the family would take turns lighting off fountains from the top of it. It would last for hours. Grandma would always ask for a piece of paper to write down the names of her favorites so we could be sure to buy them for next year. And she always lost the list, but she’d do it again the next year.

4. Riding the train to visit my grandparents in Idaho. I loved riding those Amtrak trains. Maybe it was just traveling in general — the anticipation, the newness of it. We’d ride from the station near us, Mt. Vernon I think, and arrive in Spokane where Grammy and Gramper would pick us up and drive us to their home in St. Maries, Idaho. I’d always fall asleep in their car. I don’t know how many times we made this trip, but it’s one of the few memories of early childhood that is still fresh.

5. Camping at Hutchinson Creek. I’m not much for camping now, but I loved it as a kid. I’m not sure at what age I started hating the dirt and grime and discomforts. But when I was little, we’d camp just about every other weekend all summer long. I remember sitting at the picnic table, coloring with my sisters and reading to my Mom. She taught me to read at age 3 1/2 because I wanted to so badly, and I remember reading lessons next to our tent. My sisters and I would splash in that ice-cold creek and then sit around the campfire to warm up. I can still smell the coffee in the old percolator on the campstove, waking me up in the morning.

The rules:

Remove the first person from the following list, bump everyone up one spot and put your name in the number 5 spot. Please link all of the blogs as they are linked now or risk future blog-shunning.

MargiLowry.com
Subliminal Koolaid
Lady Mac
Shades of Pink
Mommy Brain

(I don’t read any of these blogs except Sheri at Shades of Pink, so I can’t vouch for the content. Please don’t leave me any comments scolding me for what you find there!)

Now, select four unsuspecting souls and add them to the list… so

Jo
Jenna
Christina
Carol

…it’s your turn!

I just realized last week’s Sunday post was titled “Rainy Sunday”. I see a trend here. Today we made it to church, and were met curbside by an usher with a huge umbrella to escort us into the building without getting totally drenched. It was raining like we don’t usually see in the eastern side of our state. The Seattle side, yeah. But not here. Except on the day our son’s friend is planning his 7th birthday party at the park. Of course.

The party was moved to their house, which is out in the boonies. Drive for ever on a winding dirt road and don’t miss a turn or you’re lost forever way out there. We (meaning, of course, Kevin and I) didn’t really want to go. But we couldn’t figure out a way to disappoint our four children without earning the worst parents of the year award. So we went. And I’m so glad we did!

The party ended up being held at the birthday boy’s grandma’s house, and she just had a baby horse born this morning! Brand new, still shaky-legged. Is it called a foal or a colt? I have to look it up since Nan asked and I had no idea. But the older three all got to hand-feed the mama horse hay, and pet the foal/colt. Josiah was too afraid, but he admired from afar.

After the party we came home for a while, and when a break in the rain hit, we headed up to a friend’s house who lives way out in the boonies in a different direction. He and his wife live on a lake that he has promised is full of turtles, and Noah has been dying to get out there. And they caught one! I’m not sure what kind, but it was small, with a dark green shell, beautifully green and yellow striped head and legs, and the belly was bright orange, with markings like a map. Noah thinks it’s a map turtle — another thing I need to look up. Of course he wanted to bring it home. We didn’t want to spoil the surprise that he will be receiving his own box turtle on his birthday in two weeks. I can’t wait to see the look on his face. So after everyone got to ooh and aah over Mr. (or Ms., who knows) Turtle, and the brave ones got to hold him/her, we headed back home. It was a good day.

Natalie, 8 years old: It’s amazing that I was born into such a weird family, and I’m not weird!

(She followed this up by singing loudly in a language only known to her, and raving over how much she loves her grandmother’s feet, so I think she’s in the perfect family!)

Josiah, age 3: I had a dream last night. It wasn’t a bad dream or good dream.

Mommy: What was it about?

Josiah: I don’t know.

(My question, how did he know it wasn’t good or bad if he doesn’t know what it was about?)

Stacy at Mind and Media is still looking for reviewers. Click the link for more details.

I got this fun meme from Donna at her Homeschool Blogger site.

Favorite Scripture
Favorite Childhood book
Favorite Teen Book
Favorite Book Read this School Year
Favorite Subject to Learn About
Favorite Subject to Teach
Favorite Piece of Clothing
Favorite Television Show
Favorite Movie
Favorite Album

Here are mine:

Favorite Scripture:
“Long ago, even before He made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in His eyes. His unchanging plan has always been to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. And this gave Him great pleasure.” Ephesians 1:4-5 NLT

Favorite Childhood book: Baby Island by Carol Ryrie Brink — I must have read this 20 times — I’ve always loved babies. Then when my sisters got older, I read it aloud to them, and this year I read it aloud to my daughter, Natalie. She didn’t like it as well as I did, but I got over it.

Favorite Teen Book: the Trixie Belden mysteries

Favorite Book Read this School Year: My favorite read-aloud was The Doll People. Favorite book I’ve read would be a tie between Peace Like a River by Leif Enger and Ireland: a Novel by Frank Delaney

Favorite Subject to Learn About: history, especially Irish, British, and Scot

Favorite Subject to Teach: history

Favorite Piece of Clothing: black stretch pants, for at home when I’m getting comfy

Favorite Television Show: Navy CIS and Lost and Joan of Arcadia — which was cancelled, grumble, grumble.

Favorite Movie: Braveheart, Sleepless in Seattle

Favorite Album: Mercy Me Undone and Billy Joel Greatest Hits Volumes 1 and 2

Answer in the comments or on your own site and then put the link in the comments so I can go check it out!

“I’m so sorry! It’s not you, it’s me.”

No, I’m not breaking up with anyone. This is what I feel like I should say when I don’t like a book that everyone else has raved about. It’s like I’ve somehow let everyone else down. I recently started reading a novel that I have been hearing good things about. Everyone loves this book. I’ve seen it listed on people’s “favorite books” lists. The subject matter intrigued me.

Two days ago, I found myself thinking thoughts like these: “Well, I better go read, or I’ll never get through that book.” These are not normal thoughts for me. I love to read, and reward myself for doing housework with a chapter here, another chapter there. When I’m in a book I love, I find it hard to even do my life! So when I started dreading picking up my latest book, I knew something was wrong.

But, wait! Everyone else loves this book! People’s whose blogs I learn from have recommended it and raved about it! What is wrong with me?

Then I read this passage in Book Lust: Recommended Reading For Every Mood, Moment, and Reason by Nancy Pearl:

“One of my strongest-held beliefs is that no one should ever finish a book that they’re not enjoying, no matter how popular or well reviewed the book is. Believe me, nobody is going to get any points in heaven by slogging their way through a book they aren’t enjoying but think they ought to read. I live by what I call “the rule of fifty,” which acknowledges that time is short and the world of books is immense. If you’re fifty years old or younger, give every book about fifty pages before you decide to commit yourself to reading it, or give it up. If you’re over fifty, which is when time gets even shorter, subtract your age from 100 — the result is the number of pages you should read before deciding. Keep in mind that your mood has a lot to do with whether or not you will like a book. I always leave open the option of going back to a book that I haven’t liked (especially if someone I respect has recommended it to me) sometime later. I’ve begun many books, put them down unfinished, then returned a month or two, or years, later and ended up loving them.”

Whew! What a relief. See, I had already given this book almost 100 pages to hook me. And it hadn’t. Could be my mood, of course, so I’ll probably try again some other time. But yesterday, with no (or at least very little) guilt whatsoever, I returned The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver to my public library.

Last night, I started A is for Alibi by Sue Grafton. I haven’t read a mystery in a while, but this series was recommended to me. And, thank goodness, I was hooked from page one. No guilt over this one. Except for the housework I let slide in order to get back to it!