Sing a New Song: Do Something For Yourself

"Don't you ever do something for yourself?"

People ask me this quite frequently. Usually, they have a day spa in mind or a weekend away without the kids. Truthfully, I'm not the day spa type. I don't know exactly what the day spa type is; I just know it's not me. Any place that requires me to shed my clothes for a dressing gown and lay on  an  adjustable table is a little too much like a hospital  for me to ever relax there.

However, I do think that one way to ease out of that burned out state is to acknowledge that it's nice to be nice to ourselves. When you are nurturing yourself, you have to use the same approach that you use when nurturing your children. I f I think a child is particularly burdened, I look for ways to help lighten the load. And if I think a special gift--a gift chosen just for that child--might help in some way, I usually endeavor to provide it. So...I provided three gifts for myself recently to help brighten my days and sing a new song.

First up, a good laugh. I re-read Danielle Bean's Mom to Mom, Day to Day. This book is funny. You're guaranteed a laugh. But more than that, it's a place where I can go and find someone who "gets it." It's nice to see in print a family a lot like mine and a mother who is honest about the fact that the struggles inside our homes are different than those of our neighbors with 1.8 kids. Not better, not worse, just different. We are weird. But at least we're in good company. I find comfort in that.

Next, and similarly, I love Marie Bellet. First, a disclaimer: I'm not a music critic. I like the music; it works for me, but I have no idea if it's good music. I'm all about the lyrics. When she sings about a new springtime and invokes John Paul the Great, I'm belting it out at the top of my lungs and the whole day seems sunnier. And when she sings about "nine more months, one more time," I'm grinning from ear to ear and hoping "me, too." Marie Bellet expresses joy in this crazy lifestyle and she is honest about our failings while encouraging us to strive to be something more.

Finally, a present of extraordinary value. I am the delighted and inspired owner of a truly beautiful rosary. I love the rosary.  In his gracious goodness, the Holy Spirit has infused in me a love for this devotion over the past year that has born immeasurable fruit. Mostly, I've prayed the rosary while listening to a CD. Recently, I decided that I wanted a rosary to hold. I wanted the sensory experience of touching the beads (Catholics are like that, I think--we pray with all our senses). And oh, what a sensory experience is mine. I might just have the most beautiful rosary ever! It was named "Vessel of Life, Vessel of Joy" by Kimberlee, who created it for me. There is a large centerpiece of Our Lady of Guadalupe, which reminds me of her words to Juan Diego: Am I not here, I who am your mother? Are you not under my shadow and watch? Am I not the source of your joy? Are you not in the fold of my mantle, in the crossing of my arms? The Ave beads are a deep rose color, my favorite color, and the Church's color of joy. I fall asleep every night holding this rosary, prayerfully considering my joys in life. Everything about my rosary reminds me to take joy in my vocation, my greatest delight.

This gift--this something I did for myself--is something I do for myself every day and something I do for myself for eternity. With the rosary, comes these promises of Mary to Saint Dominic. I have to think they have more value for me and for my family that a day at a spa.

1. Whoever shall faithfully serve me by the recitation of the rosary, shall receive signal graces.
2. I promise my special protection and the greatest graces to all those who shall recite the rosary.
3. The rosary shall be a powerful armor against hell, it will destroy vice, decrease sin, and defeat heresies.
4. It will cause virtue and good works to flourish; it will obtain for souls the abundant mercy of God; it will withdraw the hearts of men from the love of the world and its vanities, and will lift them to the desire of eternal things.
5. Oh, that souls would sanctify themselves by this means.
6. The soul which recommends itself to me by the recitation of the rosary, shall not perish.
7. Whoever shall recite the rosary devoutly, applying himself to the consideration of its sacred mysteries shall never be conquered by misfortune.
8. God will not chastise him in His justice, he shall not perish by an unprovided death; if he be just he shall remain in the grace of God, and become worthy of eternal life.
9. Whoever shall have a true devotion for the rosary shall not die without the sacraments of the Church.
10. Those who are faithful to recite the rosary shall have during their life and at their death the light of God and the plenitude of His graces; at the moment of death they shall participate in the merits of the saints in paradise.
11. I shall deliver from purgatory those who have been devoted to the rosary.
12. The faithful children of the rosary shall merit a high degree of glory in heaven.
13. You shall obtain all you ask of me by the recitation of the rosary.
14. All those who propagate the holy rosary shall be aided by me in their necessities. I have obtained from my Divine Son that all the advocates of the rosary shall have for intercessors the entire celestial court during their life and at the hour of death. All who recite the rosary are my sons, and brothers of my only son Jesus Christ.
15. Devotion of my rosary is a great sign of predestination.

Sing a New Song: Old Friends

I ran into an old friend on Sunday. My first homeschool mentor and the mother of my eldest son's best friend, she is wise and she is holy. We chatted a bit in the soccer parking lot. Life has taken some interesting twists since we were both young moms with a handful of children and more on the way. Our conversation turned to changing roles, changing goals, and burnout. She's taking time to exercise these days--time she denied herself for years. She says it keeps her healthy and it keeps her sane. I think we'll talk about exercise another day...

She also said she's taking time for friendships. In the busyness of our days, in the laying down of our lives for our children, precious friendships get pushed aside. Fortunately, true friendships can begin again, right where they left off, only sweeter for the wisdom of years.

This morning, in the all-too-brief quiet space between waking and rising, I determined to sing a new song today. I asked God to show me how He'd have me use this day. I had planned to go again to see the bluebells and hang out on the banks of Cub Run. But an 8 AM orthopedic appointment scuttled those plans.
Still, I was determined to make something beautiful and restorative of this day. Katie asked me at breakfast if we could go see a real horse sometime. Sometime?

"Let's go today," I replied.

"Today? In real life?"

In real life, indeed. Everything about this day would be in real life.

I called an old friend and asked if she'd like to meet us at Frying Pan Park, a nearby farm where there were sure to be lots of spring babies. After she recovered from her surprise at my availability to do something in the middle of the day in the middle of the week, she readily agreed.

We arrived at the park and started browsing through the stalls. There were baby goats and baby lambs.

And a bunch of piglets that made tandem nursing look like no big deal.
I snuggled my own baby close to me and admired Mama Pig's patience.

We admired the peacocks and mooed at the cows. I tried to reassure Nicholas about the smells coming from the smokehouse. He remains unconvinced and might be scarred for life.
There were tractors to climb and roosters to cockadoodle to.

In the midst of it all, my cell phone rang. Another old friend. She wondered if we were up for a trip to the bluebells. I declined and explained about Patrick's foot. She said we never see each other any more...

"I'm standing with the pigs at Frying Pan Park. Load up the van and meet us here."

"I'm so burned out I can't think about doing anything else today. I"ll be there in twenty minutes."

So, while little boys played in the trees above us, three old friends settled into a conversation as comfortable as a pair of faded jeans. We remembered when the agile climber was a baby in a stroller and when the current baby was but a fervent prayer. We remembered when the lovely ballerinas strolling hand-in-hand were the little girls in the bear costumes at the Nutcracker. We talked about the future and debated the pros and cons of high school curricula. We enjoyed the sunshine and the comfortable company. We resolved to do it again next week.

On the ride home, I thought about how precious these old friendships are, how they refresh my soul. I thought about the day, which began chilly and cloudy and cleared to a glorious spring sunshine. I thought about what might have been happening at home in my absence. 

It turns out that God was planning quite a spectacle to greet me at home. Not a catastrophe; not a crisis. Just a show of quiet beauty. The garden bloomed while we were out and smiled upon us on our return.

Sing a New Song: Bluebell Days

I think that in His gracious Providence God made spring to follow  winter--a beautiful, magnanimous gift. This year, winter came late and lingered. Perhaps that's why I'm hearing so much about burnout. In our discussion of ways to prevent and cure burnout, much must be said of the cure provided by the Divine Doctor: nature.

I'm talking about nature study, in the traditional Charlotte Mason sense, but I'm also talking about Mountain Days and even entire semesters devoted to being outdoors and restoring one's soul. To cure burnout--better yet, to prevent burnout--it's time to go outside.

Every spring for the last six years, my family has hiked about half a mile in on a muddy trail to the banks of Cub Run. There, we are treated to the splendor of Virginia Bluebells.  This year, just as the blooms were promising us our winter reprieve, we had fierce, biting cold. I fretted over those precious wildflowers. I think , really, that I was worried I'd forever be stuck in the winter routine. Without the bluebells, could we break free of the boring and embrace again the joy of real learning? I didn't want to take the chance. On Friday, we pulled on our winter coats and went to see if there was any chance that it would indeed be spring this year.

When we arrived, I thought for a moment or two that we would not be warm enough, but as we made our way down the trail, we all warmed--to the idea of being in this very special place, to the idea that no matter how dreary the winter had become, it would indeed be spring again.  And as our heartbeats naturally quickened, our pace picked up as well.  There were the fairy spuds, dainty and white flowers that herald the arrival of the more glorious bluebells.  They always make me think of Lissa, because they beg to be in one of her novels, if only because of their name.

When we approached the long planked walk that is the well-known end of the trail, Stephen could barely contain himself. He broke into an all-out run.

"They're here! They did bloom! They ARE here!"  Indeed they were. In all their splendor. God's Easter gift to one tired mom who was ever so glad to know that school is not a place. It's not even a place in my house. No, "homeschool" doesn't cover it at all. "Home education" doesn't even cover it. What we're doing here is throwing open our arms to all of God's glorious goodness and sharing in it--day in and day out--with our children. It's all good. I count it all joy!

Sing a New Song: Creativity

One of the things that drew me to a Charlotte Mason-style education all those many moons ago was the inclusion of music, art, and handicrafts. I wanted to be sure that education in our household never resembled the checklist style of learning being propagated in other educational venues. To me, educating a child is like weaving a tapestry. A utilitarian tapestry of only dark colors was not my goal.

I wanted several different tones and textures of threads. I wanted a fine (sort-of-classical) academic education, to be sure, but I also wanted to touch the heart and soul, the creative spirits of my children.

Recently, a conversation with a very creative soul led me to think about whether or not this is a creative household. Looking back, the train of thought seems rather ludicrous. My husband is a television producer/director/writer. I write a little myself ;-). My kids all have blogs and love to write and take photographs. Yet, there is a part of me that longs to "touch" creations. And then, I looked around.

This is, by far, my favorite piece of furniture. Michael  painted it for me last year for Mother's Day. He's always been creating--paper, pencils, paint, photos. He's a visual guy who loves to both create and to appreciate art.

But then I considered the next child. The one who can take a cardboard box and packing tape and replicate an entire television set. The one who decides that they can't play basketball in the basement until the walls are hung with NCAA banners of his making and the floor is marked to look like a basketball court.

And then to the next child. Ah. Stuck here a bit. He wants a kit and detailed directions. He's afraid to make a mistake. Perfectionism is not a good creativity enhancer. File that away to ponder a bit. Perfectionism will kill creativity. And perfectionism breeds burnout in a big way. We can't be afraid to make mistakes. We need to stretch and to grow, lest we wither and die. We need that creative stretch not just for our children (though they really, really need it), but for ourselves as well.

The fourth child has been begging me to learn to bead jewelry, to learn to sew, to learn to crochet. She loves to make flower fairies, to redecorate her bedroom frequently. Yep, creativity here, for sure. In a minute, dear...

But it was the fifth child who brought me up short. Just before Easter, I went into his room to look for a Sharpie. He hoards them. We're not sure why; we just know that if we need a Sharpie, Stephen always has them. So, he wasn't home and I needed a Sharpie. I opened his desk drawer. There were two packages of Prismacolors still sealed, a  brand new package or water colors, and a whole rainbow of Sharpies. Basically, two years' of art supplies were untouche din his drawers. He'd borrowed and scrounged when he wanted to draw.

When he got home, we had a heart to heart. He loves to draw, so I knew it wasn't that he was uninterested. Indeed, he tends to keep things "just so": clothing, food, toys. He doesn't want to mess them up. As he was telling me that he just wanted his supplies to stay nice and new, I thought of all the times I've hesitated to begin a project because I was overwhelmed by the thought of the mess, the loss of control over my environment. I thought of all the times I've said, "in a minute, dear."

Stephen and I read the parable of the talents and we talked about how eager God is to see what we DO with the creative material in our lives. In the past few days, I've noticed one brightly colored picture after another coming from his hands--and his heart.

Shortly after my discussion with Stephen, I sat down with Sewing with St. Anne. Long have I promised to learn to sew with Mary Beth using this book. No more promises. It was time to move. The girls set off to the fabric store. All you fabric junkies might not understand, but this was a trip to feed our souls if only because of its novelty.  Mary Beth and Katie had never been to a fabric store before. I took them to G Street Fabrics. Eye candy everywhere. We were drawn to the cotton florals. Half an hour later, we left the store with a stash of fabric and seam binding and thread. We are going to make bibs for Karoline (and probably some kerchiefs and hair scrunchies too--I am sure I overbought). Admittedly, these might be the most expensive bibs ever made, but I think it's cheaper than therapy and how creating will feed our souls! Just working with beautiful materials fends off the burnout.

The boys are eager to watch the bibs take shape and have already thought of some needlework projects of their own. Something about monogramming numbers on cleats and soccer bags...

As I seek to understand how important creativity is, I've been blessed with very creative women who share ideas and philosophies on creativity. Kim and Alice and Rebecca listen to me muse and encourage me with the gentle nudging of kindred spirits who know that the soul yearns for more than academics. They ensure me that nursing mothers don't have to put creativity on hold. I am reminded that one of our friends creates extraordinary rosaries while nursing a baby and another writes novels.

Mary Beth and I have spent hours looking at the art on Kimberlee's rosary site and Alice's Garden of Grace. As Kimberlee has shared her passion for creating with me in conversation, I've become more aware of how important it is to deliberately nurture creativity in a household. Posts like these make me pause and re-evaluate the atmosphere in my home. Am I giving time and attention to ensuring that creative pursuits are supported or am I just benignly allowing them to squirrel away cardboard and packing tape and calling it good? There's a place for cardboard projects,to be sure, but my children also need more from me...

And I need more. We have a house full of good writers, due, in large part to the example my husband and I set. If I never back away from the books and the keyboard, I set a one dimensional example. That's not good for the children. And it's not good for me. My soul, created in the image of the Great Creator, longs find expression in art.

Inspired by her Easter present, which was created by Kimberlee, Mary Beth reminded me again how much she wants to bead. And now I do, too! And I think that Patrick is captivated by the stones and the patterns and the place for precision in the creation of rosaries. So, we went off to buy crimping pliers and a few stones to get us going. With a creative spirit whispering in my ear and giving me a generous shove, Mary Beth and I made a simple St. Therese chaplet. I even managed to do some of it with Karoline on my lap. Admittedly, babies and toddlers can make the experience  of creating a tedious one, but if I can be content not to have everything "just so" and not to complete everything according to my time constraints, we can be happily creative here.

Handcrafts, art, and music cannot not just add-ons in this lifestyle, things we get to if there's leftover time. They need to be deliberate pursuits to which time and energy are eagerly donated.

Do we get burned out because we are stuck in a predictable but controlled rut?  It's simpler to make the checklist and hit the same routine of read, narrate, drill every day. This is one of the points which bothered me most about the CM Planner. There was no way to record those things that were not in the read-and-narrate or complete-a-page modes. If we are slaves to the checklist mentality, we will  begin to burn out because we will drive out all creativity and recreation. (Note how "creativity" and "recreation" are such similar words.)

That is not to say that all creative pursuits are spontaneous. Indeed, you will have to plan for creativity.You will need to find supplies and instruction, mentors and direction. And you will need time. Creativity isn't as easily contained. It needs a bit of breathing room and some time to germinate. It's hard some times to "justify" taking time for "real school" for paints and papers and sewing and songs .  Those creative pursuits are just as real. And they are necessary. Denying the time and opportunity  to be creative is setting oneself up for burnout. John Paul II reminded us that "With loving regard, the divine Artist passes on to the human artist a spark of his own surpassing wisdom, calling him to share in the creative power." God is calling! Can you hear him?  Put away the morning books and spend the afternoon sharing in His creative power.

Sing a New Song!

I've been at this home education thing for some time now, long enough to recognize the symptoms. When I start to say and write things like this I know I'm coming perilously close to burnout. I know; I wrote the book on burnout. Well, not the whole book, but I did write a chapter on it. And it's easily the most-requested and discussed chapter in the entire book. Since I wrote that chapter ten years ago, one would think that burnout was not an issue in my house. One would think.

But our lives are constantly evolving and one thing that mothers of many learn is that just when you have it all figured out, the family dynamic changes. A new baby is born, a husband begins a new job, a child takes on a new challenge, we pack, we move, someone is ill, someone dies. Slowly, without our recognizing it, we are like the frog dropped in temperate water who doesn't recognize it when the water begins to heat to boiling. We are rapidly approaching burnout.

Recently, a reader wrote to ask me about a passage in Real Learning. She asked me to clarify what I was trying to say when I wrote this:  Burnout occurs when we are out of sync with God. It happens when we shoulder a yoke that is not His.

When I responded, I told her that God tells us that his yoke is easy and his burden is light. So, if we are straining and fall under the yoke and the burden, it's not God's. Something that we are doing, or something in the way that we are doing it is out of God's plan. I don't mean that life is never hard or that our homes must always be filled with only sunshine and roses. But I still mean that if we are straining and falling and sinning under the strain of the yoke, it's not God's yoke. He never leads us into sin. Yes, we will suffer, but I have learned that it is indeed possible to suffer joyfully. Burnout is not suffering joyfully.

So, is it a sin to snap at your children all day long? How about only half the day long? Is it a sin to be unavailable to your husband? Is it a sin to find yourself, at the end of the day, surrounded by mountains of laundry and the remnants of an scarcely nutritious meal? Is it a sin to go about your daily round feeling as if you are always on the brink of tears, scarcely ever sharing a smile or an encouraging word? Well, yes, it is. None of those things are God's will for your family. And whatever circumstances of your life are causing you to behave that way need to be pruned. You're burned out and that is sad, scary, place to be. But you don't have to stay there. And God doesn't want you to be there.

Here's a caveat: Burnout is not another phrase for clinical depression. They are two different things, though they can be related and look very much the same. I'm not saying that mental illness is sinful. I'm saying that if you are burned out because you have a shouldered the wrong yoke, then you're not living in God's will. Depression isn't God's will either--He doesn't want you to live in that kind of pain. If you suspect that you are depressed, don't hesitate to talk it over with a doctor. None of the burnout remedies will hurt if you are depressed--indeed they will be healing--but depression requires even more help.

Now, back to burnout. If your heart is heavy and you are wondering why you ever thought it a good idea to stay home with a gaggle of small children and medium sized children and teenaged children all day every day, it's time to take stock and lighten up! Let's take this love-filled Easter season, the time the Church has set aside to celebrate new life, and let's learn a new song.  Let's look at ways to bring the joy back to the home education lifestyle. Let's throw open the windows and let a fresh breeze blow through our homes (okay, it's 20 degrees outside this morning, perhaps we should only do this metaphorically today:-).

Begin with prayer. Lock yourself in the bathroom (nah, not there; they always want to join you there). Lock yourself in the laundry room and just lay it all down. Give God every last exhausting detail. Share every problem, no matter how big or how small. Tell him how overwhelmed you are. Beg him to right the wrongs and to help you see what His will is for you and your family. Ask Him to be your constant companion on this journey back to joy. And then believe that He will be. Because He will. He wants you to find joy in your vocation. He wants you to know love in your vocation.

Sometimes homsechooling mothers give and give and give and then they crash and burn. They look up and say, "I'm serving, I'm giving, I'm loving...I'm utterly depleted." Why? Because we are not called to love from the depths of our being. We are called to love as He loved. We fill ourselves with Him, first, and then that love  overflows. We know that He is God and that He loves us,infinitely.

So, we love our families and our friends and our seemingly unlovable acquaintances. We love them with His love. We've drunk deep from the well of Him and it bubbles up and out. That love is not going to burn out. Instead, it will be like candle flames. Light one candle after another and it just gets lighter. Brighter. Even warmer.

This is not a "school" day. It's Easter Monday. If you planned to hit the books today, don't. Instead, sit with your children and make a "joy list." Ask them to help you remember all the things they love to do with you. Do they like crafts? Which ones? Nature study? Where? Why? Favorite books? Teatime? What to eat or drink? Revel in your successes. Then, take that list, put it on the refrigerator and resolve to do some of those things this week. Not after the regular school is finished. Do them first. Make the "joy" things the priority.

So, the joy list is the first thing today.

The only other planned thing (the rest will come from the joy list) is to take a praise walk. It's important--when you are burned out--to get outside every day.  If Charlotte Mason could take a walk every day in in Lake district of England well into her old age, so can we! Get outside today with your children and revel in the goodness of our Lord's springtime.

Tomorrow we'll look at another layer of burnout recovery. For today, just pray, make that joy list, and take a praise walk.

Burnout isn't a death sentence. It doesn't mean you need to put the children back in school. It doesn't mean you need to stop having children. It doesn't mean you are a failure.

Burnout is an opportunity. It's a chance to sing a new song. Let's sing it together.