Posted in Blessings of Habit, Who's the mom here?, Wisdom

The Traumatic “What-If”

Worry
Worry (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The traumatic what-ifs happen. They happen to very nice people. They can ruin sleep and even ruin life for people who basically did nothing wrong.

Sometimes we think what if about the future.

What if a tornado were to strike? What if a burglar came to the door? What if I miscarry? What if the thought police read my post? And on and on and on.

We call those what-ifs “worry”. We can make great use of them if we take notes, plan for the future, and then forget it. We stock the basement with candles, drinking water, maybe helmets, and then we relax. We lock the door or place a chair under the knob and then go on to sleep. We take our maternity vitamins and trust our medical pro. Etc. We do, in other words, whatever we can to avert disaster, normally, and then we go on to the next topic.

We call that wisdom.

We are bringing the scary future worries into the present, actual, factual preparations. Dealing with them in the present is what we should do. When we acknowledge actual, possible disaster, it does not seem so scary. When we use known fact to make ourselves safer, we actually benefit. We plan to succeed, maybe update now and then, and let the plan be enough.

Or we fixate on it and go through life abnormally worried about everything. What if the tornado sucks me out of the basement, what if the burglar comes down the chimney . . .  We can drive ourselves crazy. We can have nightmares (if we’re not losing sleep.)

We suffer trauma when nothing has actually happened!

PTSD changes from POST– to  PRE-traumatic stress disorder.

What a shame. How avoidable.

We call that waste.

However, sometimes we look back.

We look back on our past traumatic experiences and think too much.

We actually worry about things in the past.

Things that only might have happened.

But did not happen.

They are “what-ifs” from the past. There is no way we could ever go back to the past and be in danger from these what-ifs, but we go back there, mentally, and worry about what-if they had happened.

Now, I will grant that once we have experienced actual trauma, our brains are shuffled a bit. That is true. We do not walk through true danger without knowing it, without adrenalin, without fight-or-flight, without some sort of harm or terror.

But we sometimes do not stop there. Sometimes we worry most irrationally: We worry about the future, but we go back to the past to do it.

Sorry, but what we call that is just a bit wacko.

How do I know? I know, because I’ve done it, and I’ve seen others do it.

When my son fell out of the rolling car, I was sleepless many nights. He was fine. He was not crushed. The car did not roll into the street causing an accident. Someone was there to help. We all lived happily ever after.

But I worried.

For days.

What if my baby had been crushed. I’d have probably had to go to court. I could have had my children taken from me. I could be in prison. My poor baby would probably have died. Or worse. My poor teenager would have felt guilty. What if the car had continued rolling into the street, and had struck another car. Or another child. Two children could be dead right now. What if my teenager had to go to court. He was old enough to drive. He could have lost his privileges to drive. What if he had become suicidal….

This is only a  fraction of what I suffered, and if you’ve ever gone down this path, you know it’s really a maze that keeps taking you back to the beginning. You never get out. The end of all this is either such weariness that insomnia is impossible, or else the end is insanity.

Oh. An added bonus is that some get to enjoy substance abuse. Why we don’t worry about that is a puzzle to me.

Okay. I did stop worrying about the past-future-what-ifs and I’d like to share with you how to do it, in case you find yourself needing to know.

More tomorrow.

Posted in Brothers, Who's the mom here?, Wisdom

Years Ago . . .

Gear shift stick of my Mazda Protege SE 1999.
Gear shift stick–(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

. . . I left my children, one of whom was a teen (in the back seat) another, a baby (strapped into an infant car seat in the front) in the car while I stepped into a store to confirm an order.

Just for a moment.

The engine was off and in the parking gear. The town was population 100 or so, all friends and neighbors. The street was seldom trafficked.

This was a safe practice 30 years ago.

The baby was in that “twos” stage, when (we all know) it takes expert managing to control their little adventures. He was ready for adventure that morning.

We did not know he’d been studying how to extricate himself from his car seat.

He did.

The teenage child was in the midst of inexpertly admonishing him (from the back seat, remember) to get back into his seat, when the baby grabbed the gear stick and—in direct defiance of the manufacturer’s promises about parking safety specs—pulled it out of gear.

The car began to roll backward.

A grocery sacking attendant happened by at that moment.

And panicked.

And yanked open the door on which the baby was leaning for support.

The baby fell out.

The car continued rolling.

The sacker guy grabbed him, about one second before the wheel could crush him, tossed him back into the car, jumped in, stomped on the brakes, and put the car back in gear, averting further disaster.

He then proceeded into the store where he chewed me out, half explaining and half blaming me, in his total anxiety/trauma/relief-reaction to his recent activities with my children.

I, wondering what he was talking about, left my business in the store to check on my children. All was seemingly fine. They were somewhat upset, but the baby had learned the lesson and was totally compliant about being in the seat, into which his older sib had succeeded in returning him.

Outside of anger that the car could be taken out of gear, when the engine was off and the keys in my purse, contrary to new safety regulations, with which the manufacturer made loud claims to have been in compliance, I really felt only relief and thankfulness for how things turned out.

But that night, it started . . .

More tomorrow!

Posted in Scripture, Wisdom

In His Time

In the movie Roots I first heard the quote,  “God may not always come when you expect Him, but He is always precisely on time.”

That is a comforting thought.

In the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes, we find a large portion devoted to explaining that there is a time for everything: A time to laugh; a time to cry. A time for war; a time for peace. A time to be born; a time to die . . .

I had a lot of plans for this week, but they turned out to be untimely.

It was someone’s time to die.

I could say a lot of things about memories of this man, about how strong, dedicated, gentle, creative, funny, and family-loving he was. And that he always thought I was pretty.

But to me, the most important thing about him was that he cooperated with God to engender the baby boy who grew up to be my husband. And then went on to train him firmly in the ways of manhood.

I have benefited so much from this man who is now gone.

No one naturally feels comfortable around death. Many mourn. So we are uncomfortable and we mourn. We don’t like it at all because we were programmed to love life. Life is our default program.

We hold our beloved dying ones as close as possible for as long as possible. Then it’s time. And we cannot hold on to them anymore.

To every thing there is a season and a time for every purpose under the heavens.

They say God makes all things beautiful in His time.

I’m waiting.

Posted in Believe it or not!, Inspiring, Womanhood

The Gift of Poverty

If poverty is a help to right living, then this girl was a saint.

I’ll call her “Sharon”. She lived out in the country near us, in a rental cabin meant for hunters. Termite-infested, cold in winter, hot in summer, wet during rains,  it provided only privacy for Sharon’s family: her jobless parents and her little sister.

When, after my second son arrived, the carry-in meals were too much food for us, we passed some of it on to this poor family. They returned every single one of those empty Cool-Whip cartons, spotlessly clean. The only time they ever asked us for money, it was for food, and when Sharon’s mother had finished shopping, she brought me the change she had not needed.

Sharon was trying hard not to become a dropout and to keep away from the problems inherent to youth those days. It was easy for me to like her quiet and confident ways. Although there was about ten years difference in our ages, she showed me the kindnesses of friendship and sometimes would visit with me over the phone. She always ended each call by mentioning some difficulty she or her family had encountered and I counseled her briefly. Only after I converted her plight into a prayer request, would she say good-bye. How that impressed me!

Sharron married right after high school and soon was expecting her first child. She still called me occasionally and eventually asked me to visit at the new house her teen husband had built her. What a building! Constructed totally of 3/8” plywood, top to bottom, in and out, and walls painted in the latest style – with a feather duster. It was too hot in there for me, but the small wood-burner was kept at a low roar for the baby’s warmth.

One day I answered my door to find Sharon standing there with something to give me. She said they had to move and wanted to tell me good-bye. On the porch floor beside her stood a diminutive table her husband had made of scrap lumber, mostly 1×1’s. It was as simple as a plywood house, but well-made and painted with a feather duster.

How incredible that Sharon, so poverty-stricken, could even consider gifts for others! It almost brought me to tears.

I have loved the story and the person behind that small gift for a long time. It served well as a fern stand, outdoors when the weather was mild, and indoors when it was too hot or cold for ferns. It soon needed repainting and always bore the colors of the exterior of our houses, wherever we lived. I kept it proudly on display right by the front door and often told the story of this gift.

If you are thinking you’ve already read this story here, before, you’re correct. Oh, BUT – there is a new twist in the ending. Before, I had said what I thought was true, that it had finally sort of decomposed in the ensuing 30 years, but I was wrong. The little table still lives! While visiting my oldest son, not long ago, I spied it on the deck behind his house, still holding up, still holding potted plants, and I (TADA!) photographed it for you all to see: The lovely little table from “Sharon”.

table
The dear little table

 

 

Posted in Believe it or not!, Good ol' days

The Last Snowing Hurricane

From his vantage point high above the earth in...
From his vantage point high above the earth in the International Space Station, Astronaut Ed Lu captured this broad view of Hurricane Isabel. The image was taken with a 50 mm lens on a digital camera. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Lewis and Clark had just started out for points unknown.

Jefferson was President and was incumbent during the soon-coming election. Clinton was his running mate. George Clinton, that is.

The Electoral College had new rules to try out.

Then it hit.

No one alive had ever seen anything like it.

With no means of early warning, and few places out west for evacuation, many died.

People venturing outdoors the next day were shocked at being able to see nearby villages, a view normally obstructed by dense woods.

In some locales, the snow was 3 feet deep. And in some places it stayed on all winter.

Fruit trees laden with fruit snapped off at ground level; potatoes froze beneath the earth.

Ships in eastern harbors dragged anchor or broke the chains to their anchors and crashed together or floated to sea, killing many sailors.

Steeples, chimneys, and even entire roofs blew away.

Most trees were flattened, ruining the ship-building industry for years.

Estimated as a category 2-3, it landed near Atlantic City, which was 50 years in the future at that time.

It was the Atlantic snowing hurricane of October 9-10, 1804.

And though these were more primitive times — no snow-plows, for instance — the election was carried out in a timely manner.

Posted in Home School, Inspiring, Who's the mom here?, Wisdom

No Marshmallow Answers Here.

A Map of the Legality of Home schooling around...
A Map of the Legality of Home schooling around the world. Based off of Image:BlankMap-World6.svg. Green is legal, yellow is legal in most political subdivisions but not all or is practiced, but legality is disputed. Red is illegal or unlawful. Orange is generally considered illegal, but untested legally.

We were homeschoolers when homeschool wasn’t cool.

We started with no support because there was no such thing as a homeschool support group. At about the same time, Home School Legal Defense Association started. They and we did not know about each other, so we also had no legal support.

Internet was only a child, then, and had not maximized its potential to help homeschoolers. Computers had no practical applications in home schools.

All, all the curriculum available to us was published for collective institutions and often, publishers refused to sell to home educators.

Back in these very good, old days, only the driven, committed, principled, loyal, persevering, stubborn, maverick, determined, motivated, obsessed, dedicated, devoted, steadfast, unswerving, faithful, home educating parents survived. We had somewhat of a reputation for being a pain, especially among status-quo legislators. Many of us could relate to the Washington/Jefferson/Adams triumvirate, always questioned by those around us and always questioning ourselves, testing ourselves, proving ourselves. Always hunted and attacked by the government that claimed to protect us. Always in semi-hiding. Always ready with an escape plan. Always losing money on this project. Always making do with do-by-self.

We faced obstacles, penalties, hindrances, impediments, barriers, hurdles, deterrents, limitations, and interference.

We were hated. We were arrested.

I guess it’s the American way.

Now that home educating is the bright star it has become, and we have retired, after a quarter century of it, people want our opinions:

  • What curriculum do I think is best? Pick one you like and get busy.
  • What is my child’s learning style? Lazy and stubborn. What about yours?
  • Do I homeschool during summer? All parents homeschool at all times.
  • Do I think you’re harming your child? Probably, but better you, than someone who doesn’t care enough to ask.
  • What do I do about socialization? I talk to my child; I teach my child; I read to my child; I produce siblings for him; I take him to church.
  • What about computers? Teach your children to read well, spell correctly, write legibly, and type accurately, and to love English, in that order, before even thinking about computers. Then, no computers allowed until high school and no Internet until the last half of the senior year.

Does all that sound harsh to you? Does it sound grumpy? You will not get a marshmallow answer from a homeschool-callused person. We did not plant our homeschool garden with a tractor, but with a shovel and a hoe. We did not have curriculum choice unless we wrote the curriculum, which we did.

I beg you, for your own and your children’s sakes: Pick one you like and get busy.

______________________

photo credit: Wikipedia

Posted in Blessings of Habit, Home School, Pre-schoolers

Do Your Kids Have Habitual Blessings?

“Hey! Turn that back on!”

I heard it bounding from the hallway one day. It had happened again.

We have taught our children, from the time they were young, to turn off lights as they leave a room. Someone had turned out the light while there was someone still in that room.

It was a clear case of what I lovingly call “good habit — bad timing”.

How amazing that the brain, once trained, knows what to do on its own! Eventually we no longer have to think about what to do and how to do it. How unaware we are of how many habits scoot us along our way, every moment!

Imagine if you had to reinvent tying your shoe, each time you did it.

We can turn off a light without thinking, even without looking at the switch. We can be thinking about the next task in the next room while we finish the task in the current one.

The mind is wonderful.

Stretching OutDuring a gym class, as a teen, I heard a phrase worth remembering: “That which is used, develops; that which is not used atrophies.” At that time, I did not know the meaning of the word “atrophy”, so I guessed it meant the opposite of “develop”. Since our family has a motto of knowing, instead of guessing, it bothered me I didn’t know for sure, so when I got home that evening, I looked it up.

Think of all the habits working in this experience:
1. That phrase, repeated in every gym class so I could never forget it, reminded me of the good of learning, repetition, and training.
2. Habitual use of English caused me to guess correctly at the meaning of a word in context.
3. The habit of exercise, itself, gave me a lifelong urge to keep moving, partly spurred on by dread of atrophy.
4. Our habit of accumulating new words and facts inspired me to bother with a dictionary.
5. A family habit of returning a thing to its place enabled me to find the dictionary.
6. A habit of working alphabetically caused me to turn immediately to the front of that huge book for the word “atrophy”.

How difficult it would have been for me to benefit from the experience had I not had all those habits! It takes 21 days for a disciplined person to form a good habit. I was not a self-disciplined person by nature. Nope.

Oh, the drill, supplied by faithful adults who insisted upon good habits in me!

The sad thing is that some children who lack faithful training might be learning to hate exercise instead of fearing atrophy. We have many such children living among us, these days, lacking drill in good habits, and this loss causes many problems. They never reap normal benefits from life’s normal experiences.

They become abnormal.

Our children do not have to be among them, though. The home is the perfect environment for instilling good habits. With 180 days in an average school year, the potential for 9 good habits per child per year presents itself.

Let’s go for it!

______________________

Photo credit: Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums