{Seize the Summer: How to Grow During the Break}

With the last day of school quickly approaching, I find myself experiencing conflicting emotions. I do look forward to the change of pace, the relaxed days and the beckoning outdoors. But to be completely honest, I also feel a bit anxious. Going from a fairly rigid school schedule to practically no schedule at all can create a whiplash effect.

Join me over at The Homeschool Classroom today to continue reading!

{Anticipation}

I asked them if they wanted to do it again. They lit up. "Yes!" And they started to spout out their dreams for the summer.

Their enthusiasm was a balm to my soul. I started to get excited, too.

I'm dreaming about the books I'll read, the hikes we'll take and the projects I'll finish. I'm envisioning Pinterest projects finally realized. (The girls are excited that it involves their room.)

I pulled out my sketchbook-journal and mapped out the chart. The framework of what may be. It's a blank canvas right now. Hopeful. Waiting. Expectant.

But soon, little hands will scribble their own goals across the lines.

We'll keep the goals realistic. (Sorry, dear, no Disneyland.) Measurable. (Great job knitting that dishcloth!) And fun. (Camping, anyone?)

As we've done in the past, each person will choose three things they'd like to accomplish in each category: Three places they'd like to go, three things they'd like to do and three books they'd like to read. (You can read more about our system over here.) 

This year I'm going to suggest that we each broaden our scope. I'd love to see each person's "to do" section include one area of service and one measurable project completed.

In the reading department I'm going to encourage them to choose from a variety of genres. Biographies are always intriguing and inspiring. (And they have a way of changing us. My friend and I, after recently reading about the unique life of Tasha Tudor, had an irresistible urge to walk around in dresses while sipping tea, tending our gardens and milking the goats. So far the tea sipping is the most realistic part of this dream.)

The sun is bright and hopeful this morning. The breeze dances in whispers across the treetops as Miss Kate plays out back with Maizy. She hollers, "Mom! Come jump on the trampoline with me!"

It's obvious she's been listening to the Newsies soundtrack again. The song she's humming? Seize the Day.

{Operation Simplicity: Making a Plan}

A friend of mine recently commented that she had organized her entire home. She actually touched every single thing that she owned. Needless to say, I was very impressed.

And then I thought of my closet. And my kids' closets. And the garage. I swooned.

When I came to, I gave myself a little pep-talk. I can do this! This is a great time to make a plan! A plan to simplify and clear out the clutter! The start of a new year is good for things like that! Yippee!

As I was thinking these uplifting thoughts (with my eyebrows raised, of course), I came across the book Organized Simplicity via Small Notebook. It looks like a great resource. Another friend recommended it, saying that it has some very helpful ideas. She shared with me the plan for simplicity that she is adopting this year for her family, and I love it. The goal?

Get rid of excess.

This doesn't only apply to the tangible clutter like the silly bands, hangers and band-aid wrappers that mysteriously accumulate throughout the home. We're talking about excess in everything. Time wasted in front of a screen. Too many outside commitments. Unhealthy eating habits. The things that distract. The things that consume. Everything.

Blaise Pascal wrote, “Distraction is the only thing that consoles us for our miseries, and yet it is itself the greatest of our miseries.”* I find myself too often surrounded by this type of "misery," and it's discouraging. There are far too many distractions, and I believe they often prevent me from growing into the woman that God wants me to be.

So I'm making a plan. It's still a work in progress. In fact, it will take all year. That sounds rather daunting, doesn't it? But the plan is to first tackle the physical clutter that so insidiously accumulates. Here's what I'm gonna do:

1. Divide the house into 12 areas.
2. Tackle one area each month.
3. Divide each area into smaller sections.
4. Work on one section each day (except Sunday) for 10-15 min.

When that breaks down to just 10 or 15 minutes a day, it seems much more manageable, doesn't it? (Continuing to give myself pep-talks with eyebrows raised . . . .)

As I go through the items we've accumulated over the decades, I'll keep in mind the helpful words of William Morris:

Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.

Since we're already a week into January, I'm starting with my kitchen. I had already organized and rearranged some appliances after Christmas, so I'll use the rest of the month to continue tackling my kitchen: one drawer, one cupboard, one appliance at a time.

I'm also thinking ahead toward the busy vs. not-so-busy months. For example, I know that the kids' rooms will take quite a bit of effort. I'll probably save these for summer, yet start now in helping the kids eliminate things here and there so it won't be such a monstrous task. (I just shuddered when I typed that.)

If I keep a Goodwill box nearby to be filled and delivered regularly, by the end of the year I will have touched everything in my home. (I hope!) And we'll be living with a lot less clutter and a lot more us.

I want to remove the unnecessary distractions. I want to breathe deeply and feel content in my surroundings. If anything distracts me, I want it to be the laughter of my children, a wink from my husband or the beauty of a winter sunset. Because I'm pretty sure that I don't really need a dozen blenders.


As always, you're warmly invited to join me in my efforts. Operation Simplicity, here we come! Maybe you've already got this thing figured out. Any organizational tips you can send my way?


*As quoted by Pico Iyer in "The Joy of Quiet."

Dreams

Aidan and I approached the checkout counter. While the checker unloaded my groceries, he lowered his voice a bit and leaned forward, confidential like. "So . . . are you glad the kids are back in school?" (This accompanied with The Knowing Glance that tends to come with such a question.)

I hesitated. "Actually, we homeschool." Then I added, "So, yes. I am glad." Smile.

He thought it prudent to switch gears. "Oh, that's . . . oh . . . so, were you a teacher before you had kids?"

"No, an English major . . . " I started to explain, apologetically.

"Well, that's sort of close. Do you write books?"

"Well, no. I have written a few articles . . . ." I somehow felt the need to defend myself. (Oh, hello, pride.)

The conversation continued in this fashion as he s.l.o.w.l.y. rang up my items. And I somehow got the impression that in order for one to claim a profession ("I teach my children" or "I pursued English in college") this must mean that I had attained a certain status or reached obvious goals (certified teacher, published author).

But the truth is, I am a teacher. I am a writer. And I don't need a certificate or a diploma or a paycheck to prove it. I pursue these things, I enjoy them, I feel that the Lord is blessing them, and I claim them as my own. That's it.

My guess is that many of us would like to claim to be something. A singer. A dancer. A writer. An actor. But we feel like we can't really say it out loud because the world hasn't made it official. We're not paid to do it. We don't walk into a room and have people point and say, "Oh, look! There's that artist!" So we apologetically say, "I'm a mom. And sometimes I like to . . . paint?" Blush. Stammer.

Last night I snuggled on the couch with my Bethie-girl as we read a chapter from Beautiful Girlhood. We read about the dreams that a girl has as she stands on the shore with a bright future stretched out before her. Her bare feet wriggle in the sand, her long hair dances on the breeze. She shields her eyes from the bright sun with a delicate hand and looks forward.

She dreams of love, she dreams of a family, she dreams of a having a purpose.

I remember standing on that shore many years ago. I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be Jamie Lawson's wife. (I had some very specific goals.)

Many of my girlhood dreams have come true. (But not the one that involves a silver dress, a stage, and a microphone. Or the one where I appear in The Brady Bunch. Rats.)

They've come true not because anyone is paying me or giving me a title. But because I have claimed them as my own. I have embraced the pursuits that bring me joy and those which I feel bring glory to God.

I know that you, dear reader, have dreams, too. You have interests and talents that the Lord delights to see in you. They have been breathed into your being for a purpose. First and foremost, that purpose is to bring glory to God.

I think of Eric Liddell's classic line from Chariot's of Fire: "I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure."

When your goal is to bring glory to God, there's no need to apologize.

So put yourself on that shore once again. Look forward and let yourself dream for a minute. What do you see? What brings you joy? When is it that you truly feel the Lord's pleasure?

Now, keep your eyes fixed right there. Keep a firm grasp on the Lord's hand, and go for it.

Knowledge, Health and Beauty

Last summer I wrote about our plan to seize the sunny season with purpose. I plan to implement many of those ideas again this year:

(Seize the Summer)



In addition to guiding my children through goals and dreams for the summer months, I'm eager to focus on my own intentional living. It's easy to adhere to certain tasks during the school year. Checklists and schedules are a given. But what about during those lazy, crazy golden days? Shouldn't even our fun and relaxation be somewhat driven by intentionality? Even if the intent is merely to rest? Shouldn't our days be filled with purpose, no matter the season?

I've already tested out my idea, which is based on a post over at A Holy Experience. It's flexible yet enriching at the same time. And guess what? I want you to join me! Here's the gist. During the months of July and August, I plan to keep a little checklist that charts three areas of growth. (A template can be found here, if desired.) The areas I've chosen to pursue are knowledge, health and beauty. Each day, my personal goal is to include activities or pursuits that meet each of these areas of growth.

Here's an example. On any given day, the pursuit of knowledge might be anything that stretches my mind (which, let me tell you, doesn't take much!) -- reading Scripture, taking notes on a Sunday, memorizing Scripture, testing out a new recipe, putting together a puzzle, writing a letter, reading to my children, playing a board game, etc.



Health is any pursuit that strengthens my body. Exercise, a decent bed time, and healthy eating patterns would fall in this category.



The last is beauty, which is pretty broad, but I love the "command" to seek after beauty in my day. It might mean working on a craft or organizing a shelf. Perhaps it's giving my girls pedicures or putting together a vase of flowers. Maybe it's a freshly mopped floor or a basket of laundry put away. It doesn't have to be elaborate or time consuming or even artistic. Just the pursuit of something that adds beauty to the home.


So that's my plan. To embrace the golden days in the pursuit of knowledge, health and beauty. The point is not to keep a rigid checklist, but to live in daily freedom and growth. There are no rules, and no one will be hovering or keeping score.

I'll be starting on July 1st. I'm convinced that taking this journey with a few fellow travelers would be an amazing blessing and source of encouragement to all involved. That said . . . who's with me? I'd love to seize the summer with you!


Illustrations by Jessie Willcox Smith