I'm Not That Bad at Math and

my neck is not that long.

So it turns out I am not bad at math.  I find this out now at age 28 while my husband is in grad school, after 20 years of calculators and bashful avoidance and strategizing my undergraduate course load out of fear, leaving knowledge gaps in economics, physics and microbiology as a result.  How did this happen?

I know its the the same reason I have strategized my hairstyle and necklines around my long neck and "beady head" as Chris Rodriguez so loudly pointed out to me in 8th grade MATH class.  I believed what I was told about myself.

And then I rose to those expectations. Some teachers assumed I would not excel at math; they treated me as such and students perceive more than grownups realize.  Some kids are late bloomers academically, prolonging that blissful stage of play dough, crayons and ignorance- or just growing their strengths in some  areas before others.  My math and reading skills lagged.  I recall crying over 2nd grade homework pages and literally hunching down at my desk when the teacher called on students for answers. For me, my creative and verbal skills blossomed first, earning me encouragement which naturally bred confidence in those areas.  I am so thankful that Mrs. Macklebee promoted my writing.  Teachers unintentionally put kids in boxes (there is simply not enough time to give to a Texas-sized classroom of individuals.  As a teacher, I know- my own largest of 6 classes had 27 11th graders and no para).  At 6-years-old, I was filed in the sweet, well-dressed, artistic girl box not the clever, analytic, scientist box. So I adjusted to my imperfect label.  

As parents, we must check ever word we put into our kids ears.  We should ask ourselves, "Is it true? Is it uplifting? Is it necessary?"  If all three do not apply, skip the statement because it can become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Back to my body proportion.  I looked at myself in fitting room mirrors recently with less assuming eyes.  And you know what!  I don't look awkward or ugly after all! In fact, if Chris Rodriguez's magnifying words hadn't launched me into insecurity, this trait might never have stood out to me.  I've decided to call my neck elegant and my brain smarter than average (because obviously it isn't as big). The self-conscious feeling I have been so conscious of for so long was not necessary.  My neighbors don't waste brain space thinking about how weird that girl looks. My friends did not choose me and my husband doesn't love me because of the "normal" human I do or don't resemble. But hey body image and contentment is a whole other post, guys.  Like this throwback.



Homeschool Moms, do you have advice for me and readers in how homeschooling does or doesn't bump this problem?  Tell us in the comments.  

A Lesson in Patience and Perspective

20 hours ago we were packing ice chests by candles light because this time yesterday a sudden, angry, lake-sloshing storm blew pine trees into power lines.  I love East Texas thunderstorms... in different circumstances.

The storm rolled in while my parents were buying 2+ days worth of groceries for the 16 guests coming to the cabin tomorrow.  I must say, Mom and Dad made an impression on me when they returned soaked, scared and laden with a chunk of the small-town store's refrigerated section.

Dad calmly waited for the storm to calm then drove back for ice and chests to fill.  We ate peanut butter for dinner in the dark and Mom did not act stressed or worried.  With money on the line, hungry guests coming, a soon-to-be out-of-stock market, a hospitality bug like my mom's, and no idea when power would return, an average person might become a dramatic frazzled frenzied complainer listing off every inconvenience that she so temporarily faced.  But they didn't.  And their reaction made an impact on their adult daughter.  I admire my parents' impenetrable patience and adaptability.

Electricity was on by morning.  At 6am they stocked the fridge.  Life is easier when we don't make it so hard.


Aside:
I should practice voicing movie trailers for my personal dramas to measure how terrible they really aren't.

Intense voice for typical action flick, "In the face of massive inconvenience... bum bum bum... Heather rushes to finish the dishes before the baby wakes up!  Her back is turned.  Will her son drop another toy down the heater vent?  Will he need her help opening the Cars 2 box?  Will her husband come home before she seasons the chicken or brushes her hair?  Find out in a theater near you!

No son, we are not gypsies.

This summer resembles last summer in that we move nearly weekly, but this season we are not family member hopping- we are church member hopping.  Christopher's 10-week internship just happens to be 30 miles from our last military duty station where we have many friends.

After spending 3 weeks alone with a toddler and a newborn, I was delighted to join Christopher even if it was in the house of two benevolent bachelor brothers where we and Linus shared two twin mattresses of different heights pushed together on the basement floor.  It is good to be together. Let me also mention that one of the three furniture pieces in this house is a baby grand piano. I enjoyed that baby.

Not all of our posts are so parasitic- two are house and dog sitting jobs.  Since that grand basement stay, we have moved thrice and before summers end, we will move three times more. Our fam of four will have stayed in a basement, an attic, two master bedrooms, and yes, bunk beds!

The purpose of this crazy summer may not be merely to make me laugh or make our family more flexible; it may be to grow our faith.  While craigslist sublet searches yielded only "no," $$, "unfurnished" and scams, I felt a persistent peace assuring me of God's provision.  I was persuaded and so I did not waste minutes of months worrying over the mystery of our living situation. Three weeks into the summer a seamless lineup of opportunities presented themselves. We are grateful to all of our friends here who have made this unsettled time for us a little less unstable. If you're reading this, thank you.

However long & hard I strive, I will never arrive.

I listen to podcasts almost daily while I do chores or drive.  Sometimes, I have to pause, dry my hands, and take notes.  But lately, with blogger Edie Wadsworth's new "Grace Talks," my notes turn into full on self-evaluation sessions.

In Edie's "The Life You Love Manifesto," she describes our Life of Faith as a life of receiving, not of doing.  She lingers on the point that "we bring nothing to the table except sin and despair" and every good thing at the table is from God.  I look back on each guilt-generating seminar and self-help book that I have raved, craved, and prayed over and am finally comforted.  Truth that I already knew rings truer.  Peace sweeps over me.  God brings grace; grace leads us to hope because it grants righteousness.  On my own, I am not righteous.  Nothing I could ever do will ever change my status- neither of my two statuses:

1) I am totally bad.

2) He makes me totally good.

Edie shares her personal experience (I hang on the wise words of older godly women) of trying trying trying for years and years to get it right, stuck in the endless cycle of spent energy and guilt.  I am so there, my friends.  I have created and renovated self-improvement lists, habit-breaking strategies, and personal schedules for which there is not enough time in the day.  No matter how long and hard I try, I will never arrive.  The more likely scenario is that I will spend another decade striving, failing, and guilt-ridden, possibly bound for the stress that beautiful and redeemed writer Ann Voskamp once felt when she wrote,

“I wake to... the wrestle to get it all done, the relentless anxiety that I am failing. Always, the failing. I yell at children, fester with bitterness, forget doctor appointments, lose library books, live selfishly, skip prayer, complain, go to bed too late, neglect cleaning the toilets. I live tired. Afraid. Anxious. Weary. Years, I feel it in the veins, the pulsing of ruptured hopes. Would I ever be enough, find enough, do enough?"  

We can spend our lives on earth lamenting that we cannot reach godliness not realizing that, when we see Him in heaven, we will more so lament not having fully experienced the freedom and rest that He offered while we were still on earth.  Oswald Chambers so beautifully describes the "delight of despair" you will feel at the moment when you fall prostrate, as John did in Revelation 1:17-18, and Jesus touches your shoulder,

"You know it is not the hand of restraint, correction, nor chastisement, but the right hand of the Everlasting Father... it is an ineffable peace... full of sustaining comfort and strength.  Once His touch comes, nothing at all can throw you into fear again."  

In this mortal life, we should not expect to continually feel the utter fullness of His patient love- for we cannot remove ourselves from the context of our earthly circumstances and daily conditions constrained by our mortal needs and faults, surrounded by the devastating faults of others, and filled with sympathy or sorrow (Bernard of Clairvaux). But, when we see Him, we will be given understanding.  We can delight here and now in believing that moment will come.  I choose to fall into that happy rest that he offers now.  I will put forth effort, but I will not put my hope in that effort.  I will never "arrive" or be "enough," but He is enough and His grace is sufficient for me.

As women, inside us is this longing-

 -An insatiable need for validation, adoration, affirmation, affection, and devotion.  And we are like, "Where is this coming from?"  And where should we channel it?  After we find comfort in the realization that we are not alone in our deep quiet longings, should we suppress them?  Should we alter expectations of our husbands?  If unmarried, should we seek men who may satisfy these?  Should we kindle deeper friendships?  Or should we consider that there may be an entirely different source altogether? 

I long to feel adored, beautiful and treasured.  It is good and right for my husband to be sensitive to those needs- he was created with the desire to treasure someone after all.  God created both men and women in his own image.  As God placed in us His own desire to be loved, sought after, and cherished, He placed in men His own desire to be relied upon and affirmed by the words of the one he cherishes.  The puzzle pieces fit perfectly, actually. 

God intentionally placed in men and women an even greater need for Himself.  No person was intended to provide these needs anymore than we were meant to be fulfilled by their attempts.  Therefore we should neither burden them with impossible expectations nor set ourselves up for disappointment.  Christy Nockels suggests, "By posturing our hearts to look to God to meet the God-needs and acknowledging that He alone can meet them, we've positioned ourselves for the next posture: fulfillment."   Our security, validation, self-worth and identity should not be rooted in men's compliments or lack thereof (or anything else for that matter), but in the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding. 

Proverbs 13:12 says, Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.  Many women are heartsick from deferred hopes of relationship or of fulfillment within relationships; but if we let God provide the God-needs, we will feel like a flourishing tree, lovely and fruitful Jeremiah 17:7-8.  

Ephesians 1:4-10

Chris and I plan to complete a Study-Discussion-Decision Emersion over Christmas break.  One week is dedicated to distinguishing God-needs and Spouse-needs in our lives and in our marriage.  I will likely post the exercises soon.