THE TALENTED CHILDREN

For any new 'widows' out there please note #2 in...

Lesson Manual: How to Be a Widow
2. Learn to forgive because there will be many, even your closest friends, who will behave badly. People will say things that hurt your feelings. They will judge you. As a widow, you don't need the baggage. It gets far too heavy to carry. You have to let go or it could drown you.

My oldest just struggled. He was in the fourth grade when his father passed. In the fifth grade we moved to a new school as a result of my selling our home. For the other two children, there were many things about this school that were better for them. But, the oldest brought out all the bad in this school district.

By the end of fifth grade, he had many "F's" as a result of his 'checking out'. I felt that he needed to be fed. He needed a boost to his spirits. His F's were not a result of mental know how - they were emotionally based. We could not expect his grades to rise simply by imposing additional consequences on him. We needed to lift him out of the hole he was sitting in.

That spring the college was putting on a production of The Wizard of Oz. I had inquired if they might need some young talent, but was informed it was already being taken care of. I discovered many of the children in my son's school were participating in the play. About a month before the production I was contacted by the director. They needed another child - so Christopher was invited to audition. He was awarded the role of a 'flying combat monkey' and a 'munchkin'. The director asked that he join the practices with the other 'munchkins' on Friday mornings before school. The practice was held at the school and ended 10 minutes after school began.

I informed Christopher's teacher and principal that he would be participating, therefore he would be a few minutes late on Friday morning. They let me know his grades were not such that they felt this was wise. I let them know 10 minutes on a Friday morning would not make the difference between "F's" and "A's". In response, I was curtly told that ONLY THE TALENTED CHILDREN were allowed to participate in this production, and HE WAS NOT AMONG THE TALENTED CHILDREN. yeah. those are fighting words.

This is one battle I won! :) And, If I do say so myself, I have never seen such an adorable flying monkey beating the lion up!!

THE TALENTED CHILDREN

For any new 'widows' out there please note #2 in...

Lesson Manual: How to Be a Widow
2. Learn to forgive because there will be many, even your closest friends, who will behave badly. People will say things that hurt your feelings. They will judge you. As a widow, you don't need the baggage. It gets far too heavy to carry. You have to let go or it could drown you.

My oldest just struggled. He was in the fourth grade when his father passed. In the fifth grade we moved to a new school as a result of my selling our home. For the other two children, there were many things about this school that were better for them. But, the oldest brought out all the bad in this school district.

By the end of fifth grade, he had many "F's" as a result of his 'checking out'. I felt that he needed to be fed. He needed a boost to his spirits. His F's were not a result of mental know how - they were emotionally based. We could not expect his grades to rise simply by imposing additional consequences on him. We needed to lift him out of the hole he was sitting in.

That spring the college was putting on a production of The Wizard of Oz. I had inquired if they might need some young talent, but was informed it was already being taken care of. I discovered many of the children in my son's school were participating in the play. About a month before the production I was contacted by the director. They needed another child - so Christopher was invited to audition. He was awarded the role of a 'flying combat monkey' and a 'munchkin'. The director asked that he join the practices with the other 'munchkins' on Friday mornings before school. The practice was held at the school and ended 10 minutes after school began.

I informed Christopher's teacher and principal that he would be participating, therefore he would be a few minutes late on Friday morning. They let me know his grades were not such that they felt this was wise. I let them know 10 minutes on a Friday morning would not make the difference between "F's" and "A's". In response, I was curtly told that ONLY THE TALENTED CHILDREN were allowed to participate in this production, and HE WAS NOT AMONG THE TALENTED CHILDREN. yeah. those are fighting words.

This is one battle I won! :) And, If I do say so myself, I have never seen such an adorable flying monkey beating the lion up!!

ONE OF MY BIGGEST FEARS

Eighteen years ago an article was published in Fortune Magazine that talked about the crisis children were in. It stated "no one seems to care"

To summarize: Of the 65 million Americans under 18, many live in poverty, 22% live in single-parent homes, and almost 3% live with no parent at all. Violence among the young is rampant. Playground fights that used to end in bloody noses now end in some fatalities. Schools that once considered talking in class a capital offense are routinely checking children for weapons, questioning them about drugs. A good public education, safe streets, and family dinners—with both father and mother present—seem like quaint memories of a far distant past. The parents of nearly 2,750 children separate or divorce each day. Every day over 500 children ages 10 to 14 begin using illegal drugs, and over 1,000 start drinking alcohol. Nearly half of all middle-schoolers abuse drugs or alcohol or become involved in immorality.

If that was eighteen years ago, I can only imagine what the stats are now in 2010. One of my biggest fears upon becoming a widow was the fact that my children were now a statistic. They were now among the children living in a single-parent home. I did not want time to pass and people to look at my children and sadly say "what a shame... his father died when he was young... how sad his father must be for what he has become". I was terrified that the life my children were now entering - that would have them home without a parent, and when they did have a parent I was tired, would cause them to choose poor paths in life. Paths that would cause them unmeasurable sadness and heartache.

I have attempted to be keenly aware of the impact this has had on my children and have spent much time on my knees praying to know what I could do to keep them from becoming even more of a statistic. I suppose this in one of the areas in which I have felt failure. I never used to really raise my voice to the kids or yell. I am certain they don't remember that those days once existed. Now, I am on a constant guilt trip for my inability to control my actions better. I suppose it is the combination of being tired and scared. I just don't want my kids to end up on a path that is far from the path they would have had if their father had been here. I want them to be able to develop a strong testimony of Jesus Christ - and have that as their rock, their foundation. But making that happen when the world has so much more time with them than I do becomes my great challenge. For even when I have 'time' with them, that time is spent cleaning the house, making the meals, paying the bills, servicing the car, doing the yard work and all the other things that just living life requires. Is there enough time to be a mom? Is there enough time to teach them what they need to know so they can be strong and immovable?

I have learned that for me I cannot afford to NOT live the gospel of Jesus Christ to the fullest. Joseph B. Wirthlin stated, “The storms of the evil one can be stopped at the very entrance of our homes”. So, that is what I hope and pray for everyday.

ONE OF MY BIGGEST FEARS

Eighteen years ago an article was published in Fortune Magazine that talked about the crisis children were in. It stated "no one seems to care"

To summarize: Of the 65 million Americans under 18, many live in poverty, 22% live in single-parent homes, and almost 3% live with no parent at all. Violence among the young is rampant. Playground fights that used to end in bloody noses now end in some fatalities. Schools that once considered talking in class a capital offense are routinely checking children for weapons, questioning them about drugs. A good public education, safe streets, and family dinners—with both father and mother present—seem like quaint memories of a far distant past. The parents of nearly 2,750 children separate or divorce each day. Every day over 500 children ages 10 to 14 begin using illegal drugs, and over 1,000 start drinking alcohol. Nearly half of all middle-schoolers abuse drugs or alcohol or become involved in immorality.

If that was eighteen years ago, I can only imagine what the stats are now in 2010. One of my biggest fears upon becoming a widow was the fact that my children were now a statistic. They were now among the children living in a single-parent home. I did not want time to pass and people to look at my children and sadly say "what a shame... his father died when he was young... how sad his father must be for what he has become". I was terrified that the life my children were now entering - that would have them home without a parent, and when they did have a parent I was tired, would cause them to choose poor paths in life. Paths that would cause them unmeasurable sadness and heartache.

I have attempted to be keenly aware of the impact this has had on my children and have spent much time on my knees praying to know what I could do to keep them from becoming even more of a statistic. I suppose this in one of the areas in which I have felt failure. I never used to really raise my voice to the kids or yell. I am certain they don't remember that those days once existed. Now, I am on a constant guilt trip for my inability to control my actions better. I suppose it is the combination of being tired and scared. I just don't want my kids to end up on a path that is far from the path they would have had if their father had been here. I want them to be able to develop a strong testimony of Jesus Christ - and have that as their rock, their foundation. But making that happen when the world has so much more time with them than I do becomes my great challenge. For even when I have 'time' with them, that time is spent cleaning the house, making the meals, paying the bills, servicing the car, doing the yard work and all the other things that just living life requires. Is there enough time to be a mom? Is there enough time to teach them what they need to know so they can be strong and immovable?

I have learned that for me I cannot afford to NOT live the gospel of Jesus Christ to the fullest. Joseph B. Wirthlin stated, “The storms of the evil one can be stopped at the very entrance of our homes”. So, that is what I hope and pray for everyday.

Names and numbers

5-yo told me the other day,"Mom, there are two boys in my class with the same name. Carlos. One of them is new. So he has to have a number."This seemed a little harsh. Surely the teacher didn't say "Sorry, there's already a Carlos in this class, so you'll just have to be called Number 27 instead"? So I asked 5-yo for a bit more detail."Well, it's not just a number. It's his name AND a number."I

Names and numbers

5-yo told me the other day,"Mom, there are two boys in my class with the same name. Carlos. One of them is new. So he has to have a number."This seemed a little harsh. Surely the teacher didn't say "Sorry, there's already a Carlos in this class, so you'll just have to be called Number 27 instead"? So I asked 5-yo for a bit more detail."Well, it's not just a number. It's his name AND a number."I

Names and numbers

5-yo told me the other day,"Mom, there are two boys in my class with the same name. Carlos. One of them is new. So he has to have a number."This seemed a little harsh. Surely the teacher didn't say "Sorry, there's already a Carlos in this class, so you'll just have to be called Number 27 instead"? So I asked 5-yo for a bit more detail."Well, it's not just a number. It's his name AND a number."I

VEHICLE AND DRIVING SAFETY

There are a few tasks that were my husbands and some that I was fine with assuming as my own. He took care of the garbage. I made the meals. We split the household responsibilities.

Although we had never discussed it, I am positive teaching the children to drive would have been HIS job. I received a packet in the mail the other day from my insurance company... "Vehicle & Driving Safety, On The Road, A Program for Teens and Their Parents". See, it doesn't say "mothers". It says "parents". Which means I should be able to pass it off to someone else to do.

Instead... this sends to me to my bedroom to crawl under my covers, assume the fetal position, until I am somehow brave enough to face my reality.

VEHICLE AND DRIVING SAFETY

There are a few tasks that were my husbands and some that I was fine with assuming as my own. He took care of the garbage. I made the meals. We split the household responsibilities.

Although we had never discussed it, I am positive teaching the children to drive would have been HIS job. I received a packet in the mail the other day from my insurance company... "Vehicle & Driving Safety, On The Road, A Program for Teens and Their Parents". See, it doesn't say "mothers". It says "parents". Which means I should be able to pass it off to someone else to do.

Instead... this sends to me to my bedroom to crawl under my covers, assume the fetal position, until I am somehow brave enough to face my reality.

YOU'RE NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH

A week before my husband died, I sat by his bedside enjoying some conversation. He inquired as to what I would do after he died. I didn't know and I didn't care. I wanted him with me always. He suggested that maybe I should move out by my parents and family in Utah. I shrunk. No, this is my home. I love the east. He pointed out that the options for me to re-marry were much more slim here. I began to cry
and told him we were done with this conversation.

I did get into the 'dating world' after he passed. Or, maybe it found me. Either way I dated. I loved. But, I did not re-marry. yet.

My kids had to adjust to not only the death of their father, but they also entered a new world of babysitters and not having their mom or dad home at their disposal. Mom volunteering in the classroom or on field trips was no longer a given.

My daughter spoke out the most about this. She was very frustrated that I could not be at everything. One day we were driving in the car and she asked if I could fill out a paper regarding volunteering at the school. I explained that I would not be able to volunteer as I had to work. Very matter-of-factly she inquired "Why don't you just get married again so you don't have to work?". I looked at her sad little face and tried to assure her that I was dating...so I was trying. In a very serious voice, she retorted, "You're not trying hard enough".

YOU'RE NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH

A week before my husband died, I sat by his bedside enjoying some conversation. He inquired as to what I would do after he died. I didn't know and I didn't care. I wanted him with me always. He suggested that maybe I should move out by my parents and family in Utah. I shrunk. No, this is my home. I love the east. He pointed out that the options for me to re-marry were much more slim here. I began to cry
and told him we were done with this conversation.

I did get into the 'dating world' after he passed. Or, maybe it found me. Either way I dated. I loved. But, I did not re-marry. yet.

My kids had to adjust to not only the death of their father, but they also entered a new world of babysitters and not having their mom or dad home at their disposal. Mom volunteering in the classroom or on field trips was no longer a given.

My daughter spoke out the most about this. She was very frustrated that I could not be at everything. One day we were driving in the car and she asked if I could fill out a paper regarding volunteering at the school. I explained that I would not be able to volunteer as I had to work. Very matter-of-factly she inquired "Why don't you just get married again so you don't have to work?". I looked at her sad little face and tried to assure her that I was dating...so I was trying. In a very serious voice, she retorted, "You're not trying hard enough".

DEAR DECEASED HUSBAND...UH.. I NEED YOU TO FIX MY CAR

A year and a half after my husband passed we took a road trip to see friends and family in Texas. It is about a 20 hour drive. On our way home I stopped to get gas about three hours from home. My oldest was in a bad mood and I asked him to get out of the truck and get some air. He decided he needed something out of the back of the Jeep, so he opened the back lift door (I have no car lingo... whatever that back door that lifts up is called) and grabbed what he needed. I proceeded to chastise him that I didn't want him in the back - so he needed to close it. He grabbed a hold of the black tension rod type thingy and pulled on it to close the back. Instead of the door closing, he bent the black tension rod thingy! Now, I know this would be easier to envision if I was using proper terminology - but the point is the black rod, now that it was bent, was keeping the back door from closing! It was late on a Saturday night, I am far from civilization, there are no repair shops open or car dealerships (if they happened to even be anywhere close).

I stood there mad. Mad that my husband wasn't here to fix it because this would surely be no big deal. I examined the rod and how it was attached to the car. I needed a screwdriver (maybe). I went inside the gas station. Stood in line. When it was my turn I looked at the service attendant and explained I needed a screwdriver. The attendant stayed sitting on his little stool about four feet back behind the counter and informed me that he didn't sell screwdrivers. That is fine, perhaps you have one back there I could borrow? No. Could you tell me what is around here - is there someone I could call? I don't know. Listen, I am stranded - my son bent the bar on the back of my jeep and I can no longer close the door. I really need a screwdriver to see if I can get it off. He stared at me blankly. About this time a man had come in to pay for his gas and had heard my last comment. He had a screwdriver in his truck and offered that I could use it. I gratefully accepted.

With the screwdriver in hand I went to remove the bar from the truck. But - this was not a normal screw and my normal screwdriver was not going to do the job I quickly discovered. I stood there in ultimate frustration. Half praying that I would know what to do and half telling my husband to fix this for me. I just wanted to go home. As I stood there enveloped in my thoughts of pleading and frustration... SNAP. It fell off. I started laughing, quickly returned the screwdriver to its owner and got on the road.

I had a big smile on my face the whole way home. I could just envision my husband standing there saying "Just rip it off"... and when I didn't do it - he reached out and did it himself. That was EXACTLY how he would have fixed that problem. Miss you. Thank you!

DEAR DECEASED HUSBAND...UH.. I NEED YOU TO FIX MY CAR

A year and a half after my husband passed we took a road trip to see friends and family in Texas. It is about a 20 hour drive. On our way home I stopped to get gas about three hours from home. My oldest was in a bad mood and I asked him to get out of the truck and get some air. He decided he needed something out of the back of the Jeep, so he opened the back lift door (I have no car lingo... whatever that back door that lifts up is called) and grabbed what he needed. I proceeded to chastise him that I didn't want him in the back - so he needed to close it. He grabbed a hold of the black tension rod type thingy and pulled on it to close the back. Instead of the door closing, he bent the black tension rod thingy! Now, I know this would be easier to envision if I was using proper terminology - but the point is the black rod, now that it was bent, was keeping the back door from closing! It was late on a Saturday night, I am far from civilization, there are no repair shops open or car dealerships (if they happened to even be anywhere close).

I stood there mad. Mad that my husband wasn't here to fix it because this would surely be no big deal. I examined the rod and how it was attached to the car. I needed a screwdriver (maybe). I went inside the gas station. Stood in line. When it was my turn I looked at the service attendant and explained I needed a screwdriver. The attendant stayed sitting on his little stool about four feet back behind the counter and informed me that he didn't sell screwdrivers. That is fine, perhaps you have one back there I could borrow? No. Could you tell me what is around here - is there someone I could call? I don't know. Listen, I am stranded - my son bent the bar on the back of my jeep and I can no longer close the door. I really need a screwdriver to see if I can get it off. He stared at me blankly. About this time a man had come in to pay for his gas and had heard my last comment. He had a screwdriver in his truck and offered that I could use it. I gratefully accepted.

With the screwdriver in hand I went to remove the bar from the truck. But - this was not a normal screw and my normal screwdriver was not going to do the job I quickly discovered. I stood there in ultimate frustration. Half praying that I would know what to do and half telling my husband to fix this for me. I just wanted to go home. As I stood there enveloped in my thoughts of pleading and frustration... SNAP. It fell off. I started laughing, quickly returned the screwdriver to its owner and got on the road.

I had a big smile on my face the whole way home. I could just envision my husband standing there saying "Just rip it off"... and when I didn't do it - he reached out and did it himself. That was EXACTLY how he would have fixed that problem. Miss you. Thank you!

Little Iota

Here is Iota. This is me, aged 5 or 6. In my blue stripey school uniform summer dress. I remember this photo being taken. I remember squinting into the sun, and I remember not liking that bunch of flowers. Does it show? It must have been in the days before the great industry that is school portrait photography had got started. I remember the teacher Miss Nunnerly taking the photograph, and

Little Iota

Here is Iota. This is me, aged 5 or 6. In my blue stripey school uniform summer dress. I remember this photo being taken. I remember squinting into the sun, and I remember not liking that bunch of flowers. Does it show? It must have been in the days before the great industry that is school portrait photography had got started. I remember the teacher Miss Nunnerly taking the photograph, and

Little Iota

Here is Iota. This is me, aged 5 or 6. In my blue stripey school uniform summer dress. I remember this photo being taken. I remember squinting into the sun, and I remember not liking that bunch of flowers. Does it show? It must have been in the days before the great industry that is school portrait photography had got started. I remember the teacher Miss Nunnerly taking the photograph, and

Photo meme

I’ve been tagged by Heather, at Notes from Lapland (and you think you've got lots of snow in England?), to show you my favourite photograph, and tell you why it’s my favourite. I’m going to have to cheat a little here, because I don’t think I have a favourite photograph, per se. I love the ones that sit on my desk here, but I’m not going to post them because I don’t want photos of my kids on the

Photo meme

I’ve been tagged by Heather, at Notes from Lapland (and you think you've got lots of snow in England?), to show you my favourite photograph, and tell you why it’s my favourite. I’m going to have to cheat a little here, because I don’t think I have a favourite photograph, per se. I love the ones that sit on my desk here, but I’m not going to post them because I don’t want photos of my kids on the

Photo meme

I’ve been tagged by Heather, at Notes from Lapland (and you think you've got lots of snow in England?), to show you my favourite photograph, and tell you why it’s my favourite. I’m going to have to cheat a little here, because I don’t think I have a favourite photograph, per se. I love the ones that sit on my desk here, but I’m not going to post them because I don’t want photos of my kids on the

Haiku

We've been studying medieval China, Japan, and Korea the past couple of weeks and today for our writing time, I decided to introduce the boys to haiku. It happens to be the oldest form of poetry still in use today, dating back from the 13th century. If you're not familiar with haiku, here are the rules:

• 3 lines, with 5 syllables/7 syllables/5 syllables
• non-rhyming
• The theme is always nature

Here's what we came up with:

Blazing Desert
by Kimball T.

Hot is the sun, bright.
Scorching is this desert heat--
Bones lay all around.

Autumn
by Henry T.

Brown squirrel scurries,
Nuts and berries in his mouth--
Prepares for the snow.


Winter's Eve
by Michal T.

Bitter wind blowing.
Darkness falling, chills the bones.
Trees bend, shivering.

Now it's your turn! It doesn't have to take a long time to write haiku. We'd love to hear yours.