The grass withers, the flower fades,
but the word of our God will stand forever.

-Isaiah 40

At the end of May, I received saddening news that the priest, whom we loved, was being let go.

And when I say let go, I mean he was completely rejected and fired by the board of the church which he had led for less than a year.

I received this news a few days after I had received news that I was also being let go by the board on which I served, also for less than a  year.

The church board was very candid and transparent with their decision, and it appears they did not approve of the priest’s MLA reference citation notes, and he was gone faster than than the ink had time to dry; or, perhaps, than the email was sent.

The thing is, we weren’t even members of Tommy’s church. Yet. We were somewhere else at the time, which we had decided to attend when we first moved to this area as a placemarker of sorts. It wasn’t a bad church by any means…but it wasn’t our church. But, naturally, we got involved with teaching Sunday school for the kids and so we stayed long enough to finish out the classroom year.

We were planning on joining the church in which Tommy was the priest once our teaching obligation was over.

Joining a new church is a daunting task.

Because you are looking for a family. And that can be scary to seek out, hesitant to attend and nervous to join. Sometimes it is hard to say what it is you are looking for, exactly. I know we can say there are things very specifically we look for in a church; but there are also intangibles that will make the church a home.

Learning is very important to us. If we are not learning and growing in a church, then we feel like potted plants, to be rather poetic about it. And if we are anything, we are not potted plants. We are vessels of unquenchable thirst for understanding God and everything He made, and that is our focus. So if we are potted plants in a church, then maybe that isn’t our church.

I also have high regard for safety and order, which, I know, seems like an odd request for a church. But there have been situations when those two items have not been available, and I realized quite acutely how vital they were for a church. If I do not feel my children are safe in the children’s church due to lack of competent supervision, that isn’t our home.  If the pastor has no concept of church order through which to lead, then that isn’t our church home, either.

And at this point in our lives, we had been in places which have left enough bad memories of what some people think church is…I didn’t know if we would ever find a safe church, again.

When we found Tommy’s parish, it was actually through a choir in which the kids were involved. The music director is a lovely, gentle woman who has a completely different style of teaching than my (rather) militant style of teaching; and yet, the kids all memorized their songs, plus some ukulele chords, and the kids have performed in their Christmas, Easter and sundry services flawlessly.

Tommy led those services, and in him I saw the same love and grace of leading.

He was a gentle soul who made intelligent jokes, and seemed to have the most welcoming smile on his face whenever I saw him. My oldest, Nova, was in a youth group after choir and Tommy led her group with his trusty dog, Joshua, by his side.

I was overwhelmed with how loving and accepting the leadership was in his church, and when we considered becoming parishioners there, it felt like…relief.

We have finally found a safe church home for our family.

And just like that, he was let go.

I am glad to say that we were actually led to the sister church, which is smaller…but just as friendly, loving and safe. It did take a few deep breaths to accept that we were making a big step into a new home, but we had hands around to help us walk slowly, and safely, into the sanctuary with them.

But, where was Tommy?

Thanks to social media, I was able to see him take a few months of time off. He traveled with Joshua and met old friends. He helped rebuild after the floods in Louisiana and he comforted families who lost everything. It was good to see him out and doing what he loved most: loving others.

So, this morning, I was overwhelmed with love to see him announce his first service in his new parish. I am only sorry to say it is very, very far away.

My note to Tommy is this:

Although your stay on our island was brief, I am so glad you were here.

You gave me hope that pastors were still as kind, thoughtful, wise, funny and loving as I hoped they would be.

If there is one thing we, as Rockwoods, are consistent with it is our fervent and undying love for Scottish games.

Ben and I have been attending Scottish games for as long as I can remember, and our children have grown up on Irn-Bru, bangers and mash, and meat pies covered in gravy with a good pile of peas heaped on top of it.

There beats within our souls the thundering drums of the pipe lines, and the echoing pipes are the beacon which leads us to our people.

We seek out thick corded kilt hose like a honeybadger seeks out a hive.

So when I realized there was a Scottish festival in our neck of the woods, you better believe we laced up and got our highland hineys over there.

My warrior daughters at my side, and the knights beside the King.

Aye, the laddies and lassies have grown up and are well dressed. And playing in the streams, since none of us can resist getting our feet a little muddy before the games.

We watched the Seattle Knights, who were fantastic, as always. The kids were in the front row of this event, to which we had to return a few times per the request of all of them. They each had a favorite knight…well, they had one favorite knight:

I can’t really blame them…they have good taste in knights.

Afterward, they were inspired by the violence and went on to protect our family honour by swordfighting with neighboring villages. The young neighboring lad first took on Glenn…but Nova was quick to pick up the sword and give him a good run for his money.

I don’t know if the poor boy will ever be the same.

We also found haggis, Vegetarian Haggis, which is an abombination to everything on earth, caber tossing, sheep dogs, pipe bands, fountain pens (I got none, sadly), a beer garden (also missed out on this, probably for the best), and the kids got to visit the Queen in her tent.

They look forward to that every single year, and they talk about her until we return.  I believe it is the royal lines coursing through their blood calling out to them…“storm the castle….”

Now, Eve, on the other hand, does not like dresses right now.

She refused to wear a dress, which was fine with me. We can wear what we like…some of us in more corsets than others.

So while everyone was finding their capes and swords, she got out her craft supplies and made herself a shark mask.

Because she wanted to be a shark and scare everybody.

I applaud her ingenuity and courageous spirit, and we made sure she was able to wear her shark mask as long as she wanted.

And she was very happy 🙂

I have been homeschooling for a good 9 years.

At least.

There were years before we officially started kindergarten here which were filled with dry erase boards, notebooks, projects and field trips as well. But we’ll just say, for the official record, that it has been 9 years.

All these 9 years have been exploratory years. Not only have we explored different curriculums, but we’ve explored different approaches to learning, different organizational approaches and different homeschooling groups in which to participate.

We have been in virtual academies, local co-ops, Classical Conversations, online homeschool groups and public school homeschool educational partnerships.

Last year was our experience with the public school homeschool educational partnerships, which just sounded…weird? And maybe awesome? But definitely something we had to try.

By mid-year, we were all in. We were doing harvest festivals, music performances, PTO meetings, regional PTO meetings, bulletin boards, newsletters, calendars and websites…

I thought I had finally found my tribe.

People surrounding our family who loved education and learning just as much as we did, and who were ecstatic about all of it! My tribe! My peeps!

In the end, that’s not how it turned out.

You know, when you were younger and had a boyfriend who took you to your favorite restaurants, and loved the same music you did? You both loved old 19th century gothic literature and you both adored kung fu movies.When suddenly, one day, he asks you out to lunch. At your favorite cafe`, of course. When he drops it on you:

He hates kung fu, he hates literature, he has always hated your music…and your face is ugly.

It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. What just happened? I thought we were on the same page with everything…we had spent hours, if not days discussing everything. What happened? Where did this come from? Why did I not see this coming?

What just happened…??

This is the absurd drama I have been dealing with for…a while. We’ll say.

Drama that I didn’t see coming because it had never been brought up all year. Drama that I certainly don’t need, that’s for sure.

Drama which I thought might blow over, or get better, or maybe even turn into something positive in the end. Hey, it might! We might be able to use tough situations to work together and build something even better in the end! Right??

NOT. SO. MUCH.

It is just the…stupidest situation that keept getting stupider. Not worse. Not horrible. Just stupider. Yes, I said stupider.

No time to ‘splain, lemme sum up:

In September I joined a group, a community you could say, which was missing a lot of foundational information. Like, “what, exactly, do you do here, exactly?” kind of information.

But, as my youngest says, I’m a good helper! I would love to participate in this community and help out. So I do! And all year, it goes very well. I make friends, my kids make friends, we are involved and it seems to be going pretty great.

Little did I know…

Actually, the board which I was serving hated my guts.

Whaaa?? You might say. Hated youu?? You are thinking. I know, right?? But why?? You seem like such a nice person who hates drama and has been selflessly publishing a newsletter, running the school calendar and events page, given the community a website finally and been an overall pretty nice lady. What could have happened?!

I’m glad you asked!

I found out all these very crucial answers in an “emergency meeting.” Which means they asked to go out to coffee with me to discuss some concerns they had with the group. At the end of the year. When I don’t have time to change anything, and all of this would have been really great to know like, 9 months ago, or maybe we could have had a conversation about it during the year instead of getting 2 hours worth of gossiping baggage dumped on me at once.

So, what happened?

Apparently, and I might disagree with this one, but apparently when parents ask all year for information about what is happening in their kids’ classrooms, it is actually a bad thing to inform the parents. So, when I was finding classroom information every month for the community newsletter, the board actually saw that as

… taking away the parent’s ability to ask the teachers, or inhibiting the administration from updating their webpages (which they have never done) by informing the parents.

Wow. That seems awful. So, what is happening is not actually informing the parents of what their kids are learning, but I am inhibiting the parents from forming a relationship with the teachers. Man, that’s harsh! But now I wonder, what else have I done wrong??

They went line by line of everything I’ve participated in, and the bulletin board, and the newsletter…and said that they are all unnecessary and taking away from other people’s ability to volunteer. What I am doing is detrimental to the community, specifically.

Okay, so by participating in my kids’ community, I am taking away the opportunity for other parents to participate. So, every month when I change the calendar on the bulletin board, another kitten dies. And the newsletter, which provided the parents with information about what has happened in the past month, pictures of the kids in school events, a bio of a teacher so parents can be better informed of who is teaching their kids, along with an events page which has never been given to the community in the entire 15 years of its existence, and a recipe for fun, is actually unnecessary and the parents don’t want to know what is going on.

Got it.

But you know what would have been nice to have for the community? Like, one place where the parents could find all this information. All the newsletters, all the teachers’ directory in a list instead of having to fish it out of the district’s cavernous webpage, a board directory…

you know what? Why don’t we raise the bar even more! What if we informed the parents about the current Common Core state standards, since that keeps coming up. Wouldn’t it be awesome to know more about what we should be teaching our kids, since we are homeschoolers?? That would be great!

And yet…

As far as the website…  As a group (wait, I thought I was part of the group?), we decided that we need more time to research what platform we want to use for our site.  We will work with someone else to build a new website for our community.  Thus, please shut down the website that you created.

So, let me get this straight. I gave the community a website last September with all the information we need on it. But you decide, now, what you lot are going to do is to shut my website down, then work together, without me, and make an entirely different website with the exact same information on it.

So, at the end of the year, everything I have contributed has been taken away. Deemed unnecessary. And I won’t be involved in rebuilding any of it.

This seems like an amazing, progressive, healthy environment to be a part of.

I’m so glad we got involved with them.

So what am I doing this year, you ask?

I’m divorcing homeschooling groups for a year, at least, because I, and my kids, need a break from the insane, echo-chamber, unstructured and uncommunicative culture that is homeschool groups.

And I can’t tell you how emotionally freeing this decision is, or what a profound sense of relief I feel in saying this.

“Not all who wander are lost,” said a very wise J.R.R. Tolkein.

This year, we are going to see where the road takes us.

Last night I did something radical.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I pulled out my workout playlists on YouTube.

Ah, exercise. My fierce nemesis.

We visit on occasion. We laugh, we have fun. We make summer plans and swear this time we are going to stick to our plans and actually remember to call each other when we said we would.

But she is a fickle friend, and I am left hurt and in tears too often to want to pick up the phone again.

Nevertheless, I gave her a rang last night.

“Hey girlfriend! What’chu doin.”

“Oh, nothing. Just sitting here on YouTube, chillin.”

“Cool, cool. Well, I was kind of thinking of..”

“…Yeah??”

“I was kind of thinking of pulling out some of those stretching videos for tonight. What do you think?”

“YES!! Let’s do this! Do you have your yoga pants on? Do you have your yoga mat? Do you need a block for this? What about cucumber water. Do you have cucumber water?”

“Woah, woah, woah there cowboy…I’m in my PJs and I’m just doing some stretching on the floor. We’ll just start with that.”

*breathes* “Okay. Okay, how about this one for your legs. Got it all ready for you. You ready?”

“Ready.”

I’m never ready.

But I did it anyway.

What I found was….some bits of paper under my bed. And a fuzzball of cat hair on the carpet under my nightstand. And some other teeny bits of stuff in the carpet that I picked out and put into a teeny pile.

I think maybe you’re supposed to clear your mind when you are doing stretches, or just focus on the now, or even concentrate on what you’re stretching so you don’t end up stretching something the wrong way or something.

I don’t know. Because it is so hard to turn my brain off.  It is a struggle every second of every day for me, because I have a million ideas relating to everything on every topic regardless of whether or not it is even relevant to what we’re doing, or what I am supposed to be thinking about at the time.

So, you could say that the boundaries I have put around me like bulkheads keeping the tide flowing where it should be flowing instead of up the hill or into a yard or across a freeway or down a mountain, are feats of unimaginable strength of self-control.

And this summer I have had a very focused flow. Mostly toward “rest” and “reenvisioning” and trying to figure out where I wanted to be for the future. Lots of meta thinking or lots of staring out into the forest just enjoying the sun.

However.

Summer is almost over. It is time to slowly stretch back into work.

“If you don’t break your own standards, you will not reach new heights and levels. It is by stretching our limits that we move beyond boundaries.”

― Israelmore Ayivor

This morning I woke up before 7.

I got some coffee, I turned on some lights, said good morning to the kids who are always awake before me for some darn reason, sat down at my desk and got started on some ideas to work with this week.

There are seasons for rest, and there are seasons for work.

I think my summer of rest is over, and it’s time to stretch back into work.

I am the last person on earth to love coupons.

And when I say that, I mean I hate coupons.

I love a good deal. I love being frugal. I hate wasting money, and I hate wasting my time even more.

So even though I love the idea of couponing…I hate coupons.

They’re like that flaky friend you had in college who would say they could come over, but 85% of the time they forgot or something else came up, and so even though you were wearing clean clothes and did your makeup on a Friday night, they call you half an hour after you guys should have left anyway to let you know that they kinda can’t make it, so now you’re left standing in your front yard in 5 inch heels, looking fantastic, trying to figure out if you should just go out on your own anyway or if you should just call it a night and make a grilled cheese sandwich and binge on Pride and Prejudice all night, since you don’t know what you would do in downtown SanJose on your own in the first place, and it’s a long drive, and you’re kinda tired at this point…

That’s what couponing is.

You can spend hours getting ready for a grocery trip, planning on saving money, because you are a totally awesome frugal woman who doesn’t throw caution, or money, to the wind. But what you find in your couponing adventure is nonsense like this:

5% off a $5 item. You know how much you’re saving?

$.27 is not worth my time to coupon.

5% of savings is the phone call you get while you’re standing in 5 inch heels ready to take on the world, just to be told it’s not happening.

Granted, if you really know what you’re doing with coupons I’m sure they are awesome. I’ve seen it done, and I’ve heard it can be done. It is just so much work to make it really happen.

For instance, last week I spent a good hour or two going through three sections of our local grocery store’s prices, and when I was done with shopping, my total was significantly lower than it would have been. So that is smart couponing right there.

On the other hand, I got some intel from a friend that directed me to another store entirely for groceries. I went there this week and took the list I had written up already, and didn’t use any time couponing beforehand…and I saved myself $200, just shopping somewhere else.

Are you kidding.

So, would I rather spend 2 hours couponing and still pay way more in the end, or go a little out of my way to shop at another store and save money, without all the couponing nonsense?

I’m going a little out of my way without batting an eye.

Listen.

I’m a woman with a lot to do, and I ain’t got time to cut coupons and put them in secretly organized, laminated pockets just to get 5% off at the end of it.

And if you think this experience is only directed towards grocery stores, and not actually a metaphor for bigger concepts in life, you’re sorely mistaken.

“Don’t spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door. ”
― Coco Chanel

Experience is the wisdom to see the writing on the wall as a casus belli, instead of hollow graffiti.

It may be the middle of summer for our calendar…

…but it is the day when I get caught up on Summer School attendance and school logging, for me.

One day turns into two days, which turns into a week, which goes on for another week…

And I am now two weeks behind in logging hours/work.

I figure it will take me 2 hours to get caught up with everyone’s paperwork, so there is only one thing I can do to make the process easier on my soul.

A whole load of crinkle cut french fries.

Kinda eating my troubles away, 1mg of sodium at a time.

Also a great way to guilt yourself into getting back on the rowing machine this afternoon.

#summernights

Sea Weed

I watched it rip itself from the bottom and float to the surface one marine-foggy day.  The amber bulbs floated as buoys for the stalk and leaves that followed the ascent.  It was a longish piece from the fringe of the bed of kelp, and it seemed to writhe and struggle against the waves until it could snap its base and untangle itself from the roots which had affixed it to the clump of mud that had been loitering next to an old watch and a bottle of something empty; but the label had come off, and I do not know what substance had lingered within until it had inebriated its possessor enough to let it escape beneath the waves, as well.

I let some breath release from my lungs and I followed the piece of kelp, a little sorry for

having to breathe at all, and leaving the reticent peace.  My yellow and green fins stirred up some sand on the way up, raising some detached seagrass so a few got tangled on my legs and came along for a free ride.  When I got to the surface my mask was a little foggy anyway, so I was able to take it off and spit in it again to keep the mist from collecting.  There was a little more foam floating around me than when I first went down, and I figured it was due to the winds picking up and churning the waters a little bit more.  I looked back to the shore looking for beach flags to see if I was right: which I was.  The lifeguards’ pole had a hysterical fabric orange cone attached to the top, as if struggling to break free and warn us all of what it sees looming on the horizon,

that only it can see from that vantage point.

The kelp I had followed was floating next to me, some of it draping down the wave it trembled on.  It had trapped some of the mocha foam in circlets of stem it had looped in the water, creating little hills of salty fluff.  I didn’t feel like I was moving, except for the motion of the ocean breathing, raising and lowering me in a gentle lull; yet, when I looked back to see if the orange cone had finally gotten its wish, I saw the towel I had laid down on a mound of sand was much smaller than a few minutes previous.  I kissed an amber bulb and wished the kelp the best of fates as it drifted away from us, and decided my own fate would not fare as well if I drifted towards the horizon, so I paddled my fins and headed back to the shore.  There was still a few long,

dark green strands of seagrass wrapped around me for good luck.  I let them come along: who was I to interrupt the destiny of seagrass?

The wind had indeed picked up and it roared in my cold ears.  In my trek back, I could only relish with the memory of watching that piece of kelp furiously snap itself and drift away, by itself.  It didn’t mind the hills of foam that it collected, nor the slight wilting some of its leaves succumbed to by surfacing.

I swam on my back and watched it

float in the direction of the sun.

I will be the first to concede that I am not entirely up with what’s hip these days.

Goodness knows, I certainly don’t know what the current fashions are. I have this crazy notion that “my own style” actually works, and I don’t stick out like a sore thumb.

Dress I ordered from walmart.com for $10? I’ll take one in red, blue and black!

So when I am reading the news and someone mentions current actors or actresses, I really can’t say I recognize all their names. I think I know a few off the top of my head, especially easy ones like Robert Downey Jr., or Gwyneth Paltrow. But Chris Hemsworth and Alexander Skarsgård? They’re both blondes, right? And one of them is Thor. Selena Gomez and Demi Lovato both…sing? And are brunettes?

So when the name “Margot Robbie” was splashed across newspapers (see:tabloids), I had no idea who she was.

However, after we watched “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot” over the weekend, I am positive who she is. She kind of steals the show every time she is on camera. I looked her up (see: google) and she is an astounding woman, honestly.

According to the reliable Wikipedia: “Robbie and her siblings were raised by their single mother.^[5]  She grew up in a farming family.^[8] To make ends meet, Robbie worked three jobs simultaneously at the age of 16.^[5] She studied drama at school,^[5] graduating from Somerset College.^[9] When Robbie was 17 years old, she moved to Melbourne to begin acting professionally.^[10]“

And after that she just took off into the horizon of fame and fortune through the gates of hard work and a good head on her shoulders. Good on ya’, Margot!

Now, this morning I was reading the news and checking up on how the Olympics were going, when suddenly I noticed a celebrity name I recognized! None other than Margot Robbie!

For just that moment, I was in the know with what is hip. And that’s somethin’.

Even better was that it was an article about her workout routine she had to gruel through in order to get in shape for the “Suicide Squad.” Hey! I’m working out too! So, what’s she doing??

Daily Mail said:

Australian actress Margot, who plays bad girl Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad alongside Will Smith and Cara Delevingne, certainly worked hard for her body, training for three hours most days whilst she was filming.

Three hours. 

Andie coached Margot through plenty of Pilates, ballet and ‘non-bulking cardio such as jump rope, rebounder and ballet jumps’, which Andie hails – surprisingly – the most challenging form of cardio she’s ever come across.

Ballet jumps.

She also explained that the duo did lots of heavy-weighted, low reps of arabesque pulls hooked up to resistance pulleys, as well as ballet style arabesque lifts with heavy ankle weights, which apparently built up and lifted her famous bottom.

I have no idea what an arabesque pull is. Or an arabesque lift.

GIS “arabesque pull” So I’m calling BS on this move.

I can only conclude, after my continued failed attempts to get back into shape due to stupid leg pain and enjoying reading more than working out, that I will never look like Margot Robbie.

Here are the top 5 reasons why.

1. I am not working out for 3 hours a day. I am currently shooting for 20-30 good, solid minutes….and that’s it.
2. I struggle to jump off rocks at the beach without flailing my arms in “Wild Monkey Pose.” I am not going to do ballet jumps without hurting myself. Or someone nearby.
3. The arabesque pull isn’t a real move.
4. I’m not 26 anymore.
5. I have spent the past 2 hours reading on my butt, instead of working out in order to create a “famous bottom.”

I hate to admit defeat, but I’m afraid I must.

Margot, darling, I must bow out of this challenge.

gg.

Ahhh, runners. Running places. I’m not a runner. And yet, I am running.

Granted, I am running at the park down the street from me, and it is about 2 miles long, and I showed up to run in one of Ben’s old conference shirts, some old capri yoga pants which are pre-yogapants because I bought them, like, 8 years ago or something and these aren’t sexy or hot  in any way, they’re just gray workout yoga pants but they’re functional and I’m not ready for sexy hot Pinterest yoga pants yet at this point in my life…some good shoes, and a dream.

This is apparently the season of, “Okay Let’s Do This Again. Again.”

I am very back on the exercise bandwagon.

It has been a month of 4 workout sessions a week, which up until yesterday have solely consisted of increasing time and strength on the rowing machine. Although I have made progress, and I already can fit into my jeans a little better, and I am able to workout longer and harder now than I could in the beginning…

I am also sore and tired.

No…let me rephrase that.

I am not entirely a person who can say no to an opportunity (or a challenge) very easily, so when I had the opportunity to go running with someone yesterday, I said, “Sure! I’ve run before in my life! It wasn’t a big deal then, when it was part of my routine! I can easily slip back into the rhythm of running, no problem.”

So, maybe last week when I was only doing the rowing machine I could say that I was “sore” and “tired.”

This morning I am “In Excruciating Pain” and “Not Doing This Again.” Again.

(I’m already doing it again later this week.)

This is kind of why I prefer not to workout. Reading for 10 hours a day has never caused me pain! Sitting outside and enjoying the sounds of nature…again, no pain.

But this?? grumblegrumblegrumbleI’mSureIt’sWorthIt.

Nevertheless, I signed up for a 10k run next month and I have to do to this.

So, that is another “Okay Let’s Do This Again. Again.”

And, I will say…all the work I did on the rowing machine was enormously helpful. It strengthened my core significantly, and the only thing in searing, ridiculous crazy pain are my thighs. So, that’s a good sign! At least!

Exercise is not my strong point. I think I could easily make the argument that it is absolutely my weakest point.

But.

There are delightful cocktail dresses hanging in my closet that are juusssttt a bit too tight around the waist.

Cocktail dresses are my strong point.

So. I will run, and I will beat this and I will fit into those delicious dresses, and I will win.

Because that’s what I do.

I also take Motrin, because my thighs feel like they are trying to mutiny off this crazy ship.

Again.