Settling In & Making It Home

The last time we moved our household, I had six children and a dog. The baby was a little less than a year old. We were only moving a mile away from our old house. We were young and strong and we did all the packing and moving ourselves—with a lot of help from friends, who were also young and strong. We all quickly recognized that we were neither as young nor as strong as initially estimated; we’d never attempt that feat again.

On the first trip over to the new house, I stepped out of our van and into a hole in the construction site that was our neighborhood. My ankle swelled into a balloon before I got to the front steps. The next day, I had pneumonia, though it wouldn’t be officially diagnosed for about a week because I staunchly refused to take time to go to the doctor. Did I mention that this was 10 days before Christmas? With six kids?  I was very well organized and pretty much unable to do anything I’d planned. I just hobbled and wheezed.

I remember my friends Bonnie and Wendy, taking turns standing on the counters and unpacking my kitchen into cabinets and pantry. I remember that the first morning of our first day in the new house, my friend Karen appeared with muffins and orange juice for breakfast. Then, despite a million other boxes, she found the Christmas tree and all the decorations and she quickly and efficiently organized all those children into a team of little elves and made “Christmas at home” come to life in that new house that still smelled of stiff carpet and fresh paint. It was all her idea. I thought perhaps we should unpack the china cabinet. Or the office. But she chose homemaking. Christmas was first priority. More than anything else we did that day, those three women made our house into our home.

I can’t count how many times I’ve heard bloggers who are mothers say that one of the things they appreciate most about blogging is that a blog is a creative outlet that stays ”done.” With words and pictures and design features, women can create beautiful havens online and no one will mess them up. Unlike the laundry that, once folded, gets worn and dirtied, or the meal, lovingly crafted, that is quickly reduced to a pile of dirty dishes, blog posts just build one upon another, each adding more depth and creative expression, not one messing up another, nothing coming undone.

Until it does.

My friends, it is impossible to move house online when one’s house has been well-established at Typepad. No matter how strong and smart one’s friends are, it cannot be done neatly. I know this to be a fact because I have invested three months in the process and a lot of very smart people have helped me. And here I am in this new space.

We’ve moved. Oh, yes, by golly and the grace of God, we have moved. I’m especially grateful to Lauren Gulde, who carefully packed away all our priceless family heirlooms and ensured that they weren’t damaged in the move. And God bless Joy Messimer, who is always willing to climb on virtual counters and jump over stacks of packing material and to see the vision of the house that is to become the home and suggest a better way.  And then there is my Mary Beth, who was tiny when we moved in real life. She’s a young woman now, and she knows her way around this new virtual house much better than I do. Expect to see her here in this new home quite frequently.

But there is a great deal of unpacking and picture hanging to do in the “new house.” I need your help.

First, if you usually click over here from Facebook, go like this page. My personal Facebook page is going to become more personal, more private, and quieter. As we move in here, there will be more frequent blog updates and I don’t want you to miss them, but they won’t all appear on my personal Facebook page. The blog page is going to get hopping. So, go like and follow the blog page!

You might need to update your subscription. If you saw this post in your reader this morning, you're just fine. If you've been a reader for a long time and subscribed to ebeth.typepad.com you'll need to re-subscribe. We put a handy link in the top bar if you'd like to have posts appear in your mailbox every day. Or you can subscribe on Feedly or Bloglovin’ or another feed reader. Go check yours! You might be subscribed under the old RSS and you won’t get updates.

You can still access learning ideas and lesson plans at Serendipity. We are working on a plan to move all of those over here very soon. 

Now, to unpack the boxes. It's likely that there are plenty of broken links here. And there are more broken links “out there.”  If you’ve pinned something or linked to me, chances are good the link is broken. I’m happy to help you fix it. First, look at the URL of the link that is broken. If it is ebeth.typepad.com, try replacing with elizabethfoss.com. The correct post should come right up; simply re-pin or re-bookmark with the correct one. It may not even be the link that is broken, but the picture- use the same process. If that still doesn't work, email us!

If it’s a link within my blog, please let me know. Mary Beth and I are going to work as hard as we can to fix those links. If it’s a favorite post you can’t find, send me an email and tell me about it. I’m good at finding things here.

I can’t unpack the boxes without my friends. And I can’t make it feel like home without your help. If you have linked or pinned before, please link again with the new URL . If you haven’t, please consider helping folks find me again. Re-establising an online presence is daunting. Believe me, the broken links and their effect have kept me awake at night.

Above all, if you're here today, I'm so grateful for your friendship.  Thanks so much for hanging with me. I promise; I’m never moving again.

...and when they are OLD they will not depart from it.

I am in the orthodontist’s office as I write this morning. Katie, my 11-year-old, is a frequent visitor here. She has a knack for popping the brackets off her teeth. My orthodontist is the most patient of medical men. He sees her coming, flashes a wide (and nearly perfect) grin, and assures her that whatever has gone astray can be pushed back into place. It’s a process, he contends, and he’s in it for the long haul.

The brackets and braces are adjusted once again, everything is glued in place, and she leaves confident that all will be well (and sometimes more than a little sore). All will be well. Her teeth, once growing every which way in her mouth, are being trained to be straight. They want to fight the new posture, to go with the natural bent, but again and again, they are brought back into line and held there. Most of the hard work will be finished by the time Katie is in her mid-teens. Then, according to the plan, a retainer will hold them in place, and when she is old they will not depart from the straight and narrow path.

You see where this is going, don’t you? 

Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it”

(Proverbs 22:6).

Parents are assured that the careful, patient training of a child when he is young will mean that when he is old he will not depart from it. It’s not the simplistic, formulaic promise that some would have a new mom believe. I will never tell you that if you just raise them a certain way, they’ll never stray from what is good and noble and true. But God does promise that when they are old, they will not depart from the way they should go.

It’s still a little hazy when “old” is, but my hunch is that some children take longer than others to get there. The other day, I saw a young man leaving the orthodontist with a full set of braces — for the second time. Things didn’t go according to plan the first time — mostly because of patient noncompliance — so the process was begun again. He’ll get there. He’s just taking the circuitous route. He’s slow to grow old.

This training business is continuous work. When our children are young, we are called to imprint the good upon their hearts, to make an impression so lasting that it is indelibly written into the story of their lives. We hold them close, we meet their needs, we let them know that they are loved and valued. We respond again and again, and they grow to know what love is.

Such responsive parenting requires sacrifice on the part of parents. It might be the first time they’ve had to lay down their lives. First and foremost, parents have to live the life of virtue to which we want children to aspire. It begins when we answer the cry of an infant, and I’m pretty sure it lasts until we draw our last breath. It’s easier said then done. So, when we falter and fail, we model for them seeking and receiving the grace of forgiveness and the amendment of our ways. This raising children gig makes grown-ups of the parents.

Children need clear expectations. We train them in the way they should go a little at a time. With every small event — a trip to the store, a family dinner, a play date with a friend — we offer clear expectations and the reasoning behind excellent behavior. And we follow through on the expectation; a disciplined parent is the key to a disciplined child.

Training children well in the way they should go requires a quantity of quality time. Both are essential. Quantity: We have to be with our children in order to coach them. We can’t correct and advise if we aren’t there. That means we drive the carpool, stand on the sidelines, invite the friends into our homes. Such engagement requires a quality of time, too. It isn’t enough to be there if we are glued to a smartphone or disengaged from the conversation when we are sharing space with a child. We have to be fully present in order to effectively train fully engaged, wholehearted excellent behavior.

We train children to be virtuous when we talk to them about our world, when we share our insights and seek their observations and concerns. An intimate relationship with a child means that they become more aware as they grow older. They see the challenges their parents face, and they watch them respond with strength of character. Sure, the children are being trained, but we are being trained also; being a good parent is a call to a higher standard. Some of us aren’t quite “old” yet ourselves. There are moments— maybe even days or whole seasons — when mothers and fathers have to dig deep and discipline ourselves to meet the real needs of our children. They want connection — encouragement, affirmation, security, warmth and, yes, consistent grace-filled correction. It is as essential to a soul that a child receive those things from her parents as it is to her body to receive food and shelter.

With careful attention, plenty of fine tuning, and maybe a little discomfort, children will learn the way they should go. And when they are old, they will smile broadly the confident grin of a virtuous soul.

Blessed are the peacemakers...

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God,” (Mt 5:9).

I must say this verse aloud a hundred times a week.

To the children squabbling in the kitchen over who gets the last white peach.

***

To the big one who taunts the little one and the little one who whines on his cue.

***

To the girl with tears streaming down her face when the infamous girl triangle of friends goes awry and she owes an apology.

Please read the rest here.

The Work at Home

As she bent to examine my child, the health professional, making small talk, asked what I do.

“I’m a wife and the mother of nine children.”

“She blogs,” piped the child helpfully.

“You blog?” inquired the examiner. “What do you blog about?”

“Catholic family life — mothering, cooking, cleaning, spirituality …” I faded, weakly watching the expression on her face.

“People read that stuff? There’s an actual audience for that? Really? Who has time for that stuff?”

Please read the rest here.

Summer Resolutions

Did you hear? June is the new January.

I can see the promise as I flip the calendar page just a month ahead — white space. There will still be activity; there is no offseason for this rowdy crew of kids. What will happen, though, is that all the activity will not be concentrated into those precious hours after school and before bedtime. The days, no doubt, will be busy, but the evening hours will hold fewer obligations outside our home. This summer, that means the table is going to be set for dinner every night, unless we happen to plan a picnic and take it on the road.

Dinner happens here every night of the year. When the children were smaller and I had more control (any control) over the schedule, dinner was always a sit-down all-together affair at 6:00 p.m. Over the past few years, as they have grown, it’s rare for us all to be home at the dinner hour. To that obstacle there is added the obstacle that came with Dad’s taking a job in the city. His commute and the timing of his workday puts dinner for him around bedtime for everyone else. So, dinner still happens. I plan it, shop for it, cook it, and it is eaten in shifts — little clusters of two or three people at a time, most often at the counter before or between leaving home to go somewhere else.

And I hate it.

Usually, on Sundays, we manage to all sit together. Often my son, his wife and their baby join us. No, that’s not exactly true. Even on Sundays, it’s not all of us, because youth group is on Sundays at dinner time, and that has two teens away from the table and at church. I’ve never quite understood that — the church is competing with the family for Sunday dinner. I am, however, grateful for youth group, so I’ve got my sight set on conquering other evenings for the cause of togetherness.

Recently, I had the pleasure of talking with Leila Lawler, co-author of the new book, The Little Oratory. Among other things, I asked her how to protect the spirit of prayer from the tyranny of workday busy-ness. One of the first suggestions she made was to guard family dinnertime. She insisted it was imperative that families all sit down together. But what about soccer practice, I protested in my mind. What about dance? What about that play rehearsal? How to overcome the reality of the long commute from the city?

I didn’t voice a single objection. Instead, I just listened. And I knew that she was right. Eating together as a family is vital to the life of that family. Indeed, Leila said, “Dinner together is the natural sacrament of the family.” The natural sacrament. The lifeblood. The vehicle for grace. We can’t miss this moment of opportunity.

So, it’s time for a summer resolution. We will have dinner as a family more often than not. It will be the default mode. It might be later than in years past; we have to give Dad time to get home. But it will happen. I’m not going to look ahead to the fall, when all the evening white space gets filled with scribbles of several different colors. I’m just going to take the gift of summer space for what it is. And I’m going to fill it with one thing: real meals around the table all together. The natural sacrament of the family.