This is part of the new issue of my Hope Chest Home School News which I sent out this morning. It's a little late for Mother's Day, but oh well, nobody's perfect! Enjoy! If you want to read the whole thing (which adds in a lengthy excerpt from one of my home schooling books) click here: Full edition of Come Weary Moms!
Our last day of home school co-op was last week, and I'm really going to try (again!) to keep my kids on a reasonable schedule this summer. My plan is to keep my five younger ones (ages 2-11) busy with me each morning for a couple of hours doing Bible time, singing, reading aloud, games, and practical projects around the house. They will get free time in the afternoon as they prove that they can handle it. We are also going to try getting to the YMCA at least three times each week, because exercise boosts a mom's energy and keeps kids calmer. I know it is going to be a real stretch for me to keep to a schedule, since I'm a "fly by the seat of my pants" sort of mom. But I've got to do something to curb the chaos! Can you relate? And yes, I will be sure to do some stuff to "take care of mom." And I invite you to join me! Our church, Metro Life, is having a ladies' retreat in June with author Elyse Fitzpatrick. For more information, click here: http://www.metrolife.org/.
On Sunday morning, Thad invited me to go into the Metro's bookstore and pick out something for Mother's Day. To my surprise, I found a new CD there from Sovereign Grace Music that I hadn't known existed. The title immediately grabbed my attention: Come Weary Saints. That would be me right now! We took it home and listened to it, and I know it will be especially encouraging and refreshing to those who are going through seasons of difficulty, disappointment, grief or pain. The blurb on the SGM web site says, "Come Weary Saints is an invitation to redirect your focus to the God whose love has been forever demonstrated at the cross of Calvary. As you listen to these songs, may your faith and joy in the Savior be strengthened for the challenges you face, now or in the future." If you click here Come Weary Saints you can order the CD, listen to song samples, watch a video clip of Bob Kauflin talking about why they made it, and even download a free song, "I Have a Shelter." Highly recommended! It's getting constant play on my MP3, and I've already gone back to buy two more copies to give to friends. (Note about music styles: this is contemporary praise and worship, though a few of the songs are on the mellow side.)
"Come to Me"
by Joanna Knowles
"Come to Me"
by Joanna Knowles
Deluge of Confusion
What should I do?
Mind whirling with emotions.
Choices. Temptations. Hopes. Fears.
What should I do?!
"What if...""I don't know..."
Where should I turn?
"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden
and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28
Words quietly admonish, comfort
Deluge of calm Dependence
Unloading every burden, one by one
At the feet of the Shepherd
Yet the Lamb.
This was originally posted on Joanna's blog, which is also full of wonderful pictures, including many from Mary's wedding. You can find it here: http://www.painting-memories.blogspot.com/.
by Jeanne Merrihew Lofgren
My Aunt Nancy sent this newspaper clipping to me several years ago, and it has always been a humorous encouragement. I presume that it was written in the 1950s, and I sure would love to meet the lady who wrote it!
She makes boxer pants and chocolate pudding, law and sometimes order, castles, threats, promises and rabbit suits. She makes horses’ heads from paper bags, little suits from big ones, new dresses from old ones, sunsuits from kitchen curtains, small balloons from popped ones, stew from nothing whatever. She makes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and peace when possible.
A Mother is a maker and a mender.
A Mother mends broken dishes and broken hearts, trouser knees, hurt noses and hurt feelings, trouser knees, torn jackets and torn fingers, and trouser knees. She mends old sheets, old rosebushes, old baby dolls and brand new trouser knees.
A Mother is a maker, a mender and a moderator.
She is a moderator in times of war --- civil war, verbal war, insurrection, minor skirmishes, attacks from the enemy; in times of strife, in times of injustice, in times of temper, in times of hairpulling.
A Mother is a maker, a mender, a moderator and teacher.
She teaches how to button buttons and how to say a prayer. She teaches how to hold a knife and fork, how to hang up clothes so they sometimes stay hung, how to sit still in church. She can teach a love of books and of music --- she can even turn child hearts to God. But almost never can she teach how to close a door without a bang or how to come in without bringing in mud.
A Mother can count. She counts calories and blessings, pennies and children’s heads in the car. But she never counts sheep!
A Mother is immune to surprise --- whether it is a glass of water in her desk drawer, a cat sleeping on fresh sheets in the linen cupboard, worms in trouser pockets, good report cards, bad report cards, split foreheads, split infinitives. Nothing ever really surprises her.
But sometimes a Mother reaches despair. The dryer won’t dry when all the clothes are washed and wet. The baby bites the cat’s tail and is scratched for it. Three-year-old dumps the tinker toys by the front door when you expect the minister to call. The baby screams for attention - soothing medications must be halted while Mother sprints to a relentless doorbell. There stand two neighborhood children to report, “Your baby is crying.” Six-year-old after forty-five minutes cannot spell “what”.
Eight-year-old dashes in to say he forgot, but it is his turn to take cookies to his meeting today. Fingerprints all over the house loomsuddenly vivid. The ragged edge of the rug seems suddenly dreadful. Three-year-old won’t go outside. The cat won’t come in. The gelatin won’t jell. The sun won’t shine. The stew sticks and the pudding boils over while the phone rings on and on and on. And with it and above it and through it all comes, “Mommy, come and see --- Mommy, come and see”, incessently, monotonously, unendingly from three-year-old.
Mother leans chin on broomhandle and mutters, “Next time I’ll raise chickens, Lord. Children are just too much.”
Then ten-year-old crashes in --- rough and ready, all boy --- to confide, “Mommy, at Cub Scout meeting we had to list the five things most precious to us, and I did: One, God; two, love; three, America; four, babies; and five, sunsets.”
Suddenly the baby’s eyes seem very blue, six-year-old recites from memory the entire 23rd Psalm, which is better than spelling “what”, fingerprints retreat again. Daddy walks in. Really life could not be richer. It is a glory never to be bartered.
Dear Lord, keep the chickens. I’ll carry on for now. And thank you --- from the bottom of my heart.”
Doing the Wash: Grandmother’s “Receet”
Laundering instructions from a time when the only “appliance” was a scrub board!
- Bild fire in back yard to heet kettle of rain water.
- Set tubs so smoke won’t blow in eyes if wind is pert.
- Shave one hole cake lie soap in billin water.
- Sort things, make three piles. 1 pile white, 1 pile cullord, 1 pile work britches and rags.
- Stur flour in cold water to smooth then thin down with billin water.
- Rub dirty spots on board, scrub hard, then bile.
- Rub cullord but don’t bile -- just rench and starch.
- Take white things out of kettle with broom stick handle then rench, blew and starch.
- Spred tee towles on grass.
- Hang old rags on fence.
- Pore rench water in flower bed.
- Scrub porch with hot soapy water.
- Turn tubs upside down.
- Got put on cleen dress, smooth hair with side combs, brew cup of tee. Set and rest a spell and count your blessins.
G.K. Chesterton on Mothers
“To be Queen Elizabeth within a definite area, deciding sales, banquets, labours and holidays; to be Whiteley within a certain area, providing toys, boots, sheets, cakes and books; to be Aristotle within a certain area, teaching morals, manners, theology, and hygiene; I can understand how this might exhaust the mind, but I cannot imagine how it could narrow it. How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman’s function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness.” ~~ G.K. Chesterton