Today I am writing my last blog post. For over six years I've pasted my thoughts, big and small, here in this space. Many of you have known me personally during this time and you know that these have been the hardest years of my life, and this blog was one of the things that helped cheer me in some of the darkest hours.
But during the past year, I've begun to long for new directions, and there simply isn't time or stamina for everything. I've taken up some new interests, renewed some old ones, regained a love for cooking that had sort of withered while I was in varying degrees of mobility. And so it's time to close up shop here and move on. I will probably leave the blog up indefinitely, so if there's anything you want to copy or links you need, feel free to come back.
Of course, the real life Granny's House is going strong...not as many occupy our rooms as once did, but more and more join the family all the time and so it's pretty much the same raucous, invigorating place it's always been. I'm immensely proud of the children and grandchildren who pass in and out our doors and they're always welcome home.
And you--you're welcome, too. You can always email me using the link on the blog. Or let us know if you'd ever like to stop by and we'll give you a real life Welcome to Granny's House.
A fond farewell to each of you!
has spoken at 2:26 PM
Big doin's around Granny's House...by this time next week we'll have a really full house with the Slaughters, Weltys, and Longenbaughs pouring in for our Fun Family Week, complete with family portraits and the inevitable 9 siblings pics and games and good food and drink and
When heated in the chase,
So longs my soul, O God, for Thee,
And Thy refreshing grace.
Why restless, why cast down, my soul?
Trust God, who will employ
His aid for thee, and change these sighs
To thankful hymns of joy.
For Thee, my God, the living God,
My thirsty soul doth pine;
Oh, when shall I behold Thy face,
Thou Majesty Divine?
God of my strength, how long shall I,
Like one forgotten, mourn,
Forlorn, forsaken, and exposed
To my oppressor's scorn?
Why restless, why cast down, my soul?
Hope still, and thou shalt sing
The praise of Him who is thy God,
Thy health's eternal spring.
I'm anxious for the hottest, driest summer in half a century to be over. I can't wait until the first crisp breeze.
And yet, where did the time go? There's so much summer stuff I didn't get done! Ah, but I got to spend lots of days and nights with a sweet little granddaughter, so I won't complain about what didn't get done.
I wouldn't mind, though, if someone were to sneak in and insert two more weeks on my August calendar.
These riots were about race.
This also happens to be the time of year when, from all over the 'net, I'm seeing idyllic photos of newly created school rooms and spaces, lovingly assembled, decorated, and equipped for the family scholars to achieve their maximum potential and enjoyment. Most of the time, these photos come from the homes of newby homeschoolers, or at least families who've been schooling for, say, less than five years. I have to smile, because that was once this homeschooler.
During the 26 years we've been teaching our kids at home, we've lived in eight different houses. (The past ten were all in THIS house, so you can get a feel for how often we moved in the first 16 years.) In the first five or so of those houses, I agonized over which room to make "the schoolroom" and how to outfit it perfectly, with desks for everyone, maps on the walls, cursive writing charts, a globe in easy reach, a cupboard stuffed with art and science supplies, cases and cases of books, the latest Lang school calendar, even an old-fashioned school bell. It was right up my alley, and I loved it.
It was also basically useless. These fairy-tale arrangements usually lasted about two weeks. And that was under duress. It took me a lot longer than it should have to realize that in our home, schooling was life, and life doesn't get confined to a room. At least for us, school days were much happier in recliners, at dining room tables, on the floor, on the deck, even in the kids' beds at times. All the planning and decorating in the world couldn't confine our learning to the desks and bookcases I'd so carefully prepared.
If I could write a letter to the me of 1985, one of the things I'd stress is that I shouldn't waste my time and money, no matter how much fun it was and no matter how many people I could impress. All that energy could have been so much better used in hours of reading aloud and other homeschooling pursuits. The trouble is, even if the me of 1985 got that letter, she'd probably pay about as much attention to it as all the moms starting now do when I try to persuade them.
So...instead of throwing cold water on your colorful bulletin boards and Pottery Barn desks and meticulously crafted study carrels, I will congratulate you and then count off the semesters until all your kids are on bean bag chairs or under the back yard trees doing their math and reading Shakespeare.
For most of you, it'll happen ;-)
Mr. Rewrite never, ever aims to be impactful