Our replacements have arrived at the front. They have come to relieve us. We have fought, valiant and unceasing, till we no longer remember a world without fighting. But we are not finished. We must prepare these new soldiers to take over our posts, to hold the line, to push forward against the Enemy. And yet, one glance at the blush of their youth and naiveté reveals that our most dire struggle will be with them. They are not ready, and we are nearly spent. Should we not tremble for the future darkness into which we send them, ready or not?
We didn't know wonder was enlivening our home until it died.
Parenting has got to be the biggest act of faith a person can take. You pour yourself into these young souls, knowing that you won’t see the fruit of that labor until well past the time that you can fix it. In faith you plant those seeds and you water them and you try to provide the most nourishing soil you can, but in the end you can only pray and wait to see what kind of plant will grow. And sometimes, the hardest part of the waiting is when that sprout first begins to show. You see something there, but it sure does look like a weed.
Three small marks, a blend of dirt and water, pocked the middle of the back patio. The small paw prints with elongated fingers, slightly larger than a quarter, did not appear before or after the three. My oldest three children, who always enjoyed following deer tracks in the backyard, saw me looking down at the prints and gathered around me. They are nosey that way.
Last week we ran a post that featured 5 tips for homeschooling dads, all of which came from dads themselves. Well, we posed the same question to a group of homeschooling moms who we trust and admire and not surprisingly, these moms had some really great thoughts on the subject.
Here is what they said, in no particular order:
In his recent book, Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child, Dr. Anthony Esolen, a noted literature professor and translator of Dante’s Divine Comedy, wrote this:
I lay on my back, staring at the sky with my feet above me on the hill. My bike flew overhead - that much I knew - but where it landed was a mystery. The ditch crept up on me, as tends to happen on unfamiliar roads, while I was trying my best to keep up with my friend Michael. He knew the curve like the back of his hand, but I approached it way too fast and hit the embankment, flipped over my handlebars, and landed with a considerable thud.
Ilúvatar said again: “Behold your music! This is your minstrelsy; and each of you shall find contained herein, amid the design that I set before you, all those things which it may seem that he himself devised or added.”
The Silmarillion, by J.R.R. Tolkien
Just a few weeks ago, an NPR report revealed the findings of several recent studies on parental smartphone dependence and the effect it has upon their children. The results are not surprising, filled with things we already know and, therefore, need to hear again and again.