Book Review: Surprised by Oxford

Source: google.com via Shelly on Pinterest

I finished Carolyn Weber’s book, Surprised by Oxford a few weeks ago, but I’ve put off writing a review of it. I don’t know why.

Busyness, I guess.

Or other posts that needed to be written. (Not really.)

Or laundry. (Hardly. Just ask my family.)

No, if I’m completely honest, what has kept me from writing this review is intimidation—Carolyn Weber has a Ph.D. . . . from Oxford! How do I even begin to sum up the words of a woman like that?

And I also worry that if I finally write this review my experience with this book and that place will be over. I like to let books simmer in my head for a while after I read them. In fact, I never pick up another book in the same day that I finish one book--it just wouldn't seem right. So I guess the fact that I haven't picked up another book in the weeks since I finished this one (aside from all the papers I've been reading) says something. I didn't want my experience to end.

You see, Carolyn Weber took me back to a summer oh-so-long ago. Back to the summer I lived in Oxford, taking classes from great professors and enjoying my first real taste of freedom. Oxford changed me forever, to be sure.

But Oxford changed Carolyn Weber in even more dramatic ways than it did me.

Carolyn Weber went to Oxford pursuing her own dreams, her own passions, her own life, but she left Oxford a changed person who began to pursue the dreams and passions of Another, putting her own life aside for the sake of One greater. For it was at Oxford that God pursued Carolyn and showed her a grace and a life that she had never known nor expected.

Playing off the title of C.S. Lewis (Oxford’s own favorite son) 's famous book, Surprised by Joy, Weber’s Surprised by Oxford tells of her first year in that hallowed city when all was new (to her)—new school, new professors, new friends, new surroundings. She describes so beautifully the manicured lawns of different colleges, nights in hidden-away pubs with her friends discussing all things important, and events to which only the Oxford elite are privy.

She entered Oxford with one goal in mind: pursuing that Ph.D. in Literature. What she found in that first year, though, was that God had other plans, and the Ph.D. became secondary to pursuing Him.

Weber tells her story of growing up in many ways, but also growing into faith. She vividly recounts her struggles through most of that first year—her doubts, her questions, and her studies. Some of my favorite scenes in the book take place in Oxford pubs where Carolyn and her Christian friends hash out some of the most important aspects of faith (over pints of beer, no less!). These conversations are pivotal in Carolyn’s conversion because the people she met in Oxford appear to be real, vulnerable, and accepting of her doubts. It is because of these authentic Christians that Carolyn begins to change her view of Christianity.

Spoiler: she ends up marrying one of them!

This isn’t a happily-ever-after, Christian fluff kind of book, although I’m sure Carolyn Weber would tell you the outcome certainly is happy. She writes with a sincerity of thought and purpose. She is unafraid to tackle the toughest question that any atheist could throw at a Christian, because she was that doubter. This is a thinking person’s book. It’s a book for Christians who have friends who ask those “big” questions. It’s a book for doubters of Christianity. It’s a book for those who just enjoy a great theological debate.

Even after her conversion, Carolyn (or Caro, as her friends call her) continues the questions. I loved this scene at the end of the book:

“Surrounded now in birdsong, I considered how God laid His truth bare when I could do just battle, turning my deepest hurt—the fact that I would have traded every accomplishment for a close relationship with my father—into, miraculously, somehow even deeper healing. I thought about telling Dorian this, but I didn’t. There was no need.
            After a while, Doran spoke. ‘As I’ve discovered, Caro, if you look back on your life, you’ll see His hand in it, and over you. You’ll begin to see with new eyes all the times that were subtle as well as flagrant opportunities to know Him.’
            ‘True, and yet why did I not come to know Him until this year?’ I asked.
            ‘Only God knows.’ Dorian chuckled. ‘But maybe that’s not the question. Maybe the real question at stake is, why did He keep trying?’”

Why does He keep trying? Grace.

And Grace is what is written into every page of this book.

This is a delicious memoir. Get it. Read it. Share it with someone who doubts.

Disclaimer: Thomas Nelson Publishers sent me a copy of this book in exchange for my review. The opinions are entirely my own.

Fabulous Friday Food - Pumpkin Pie Dip

Happy first day of Fall!

I have two bins full of fall decorations in my basement that are just dying to jump out and thrill me with all of their orangy- and brown- and yellow-ness. Getting out the fall decorations is, to me, more happy than getting out the Christmas decorations, probably because fall decorations don't expect much of you.

Fall decorations don't expect gifts to accompany them. They don't expect cookies (although Pumpkin Squares are always nice). They don't expect a party either.

Fall decorations are just pretty in and of themselves. They are THE stand-alone decorations, if you ask me.

So this week I went to do the first thing I always do when I decorate for the season--switch out my front door wreath. But as I was taking down the sunny, yellow summer wreath, I couldn't deny it anymore: my front door was looking awfully shabby.

It needed a coat of paint. Badly.

So I ran down to the local hardware store and bought some black paint, semi-gloss for me, and proceeded to get myself into a project. It didn't take long. An hour later I had a shiny, new-looking front door (if you don't notice the tarnished brass kickplate on the bottom).

Alas, time got away from me, and the front door wreath-hanging has not happened yet. But this weekend, the fall decorating festivities will commence!

In the meantime, I thought I'd share with you my favorite fall treat--Pumpkin Pie Dip. I got this recipe from my sister, Jenn, a couple of years ago, and every year at about this time I have to make a batch. It's so easy and so delicious that you might want to make some this weekend too.

Here's what you need:

1 (8 oz) package of cream cheese
2 Cups powdered sugar
1 (15 oz) can of Pumpkin Pie Filling (NOT the plain pumpkin--make sure you get the filling)

[side note: I can never seem to find 15 ounces of the pumpkin pie filling--the cans I find are bigger. Just measure out a little less than 2 cups and you'll have 15 ounces.]

1 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. ground ginger

Beat the cream cheese until it's fluffy and then slowly add the sugar at medium speed (just so the sugar doesn't fly all over you and your kitchen!). Mix that all together until its smooth.

Then add the pumpkin, cinnamon, and ginger.

Beat it all together until everything is mixed well, and transfer it to a pretty bowl. (You already know how I feel about pretty serving dishes, right?)

Cover it and stick it in the refrigerator for 8 hours. Yeah. Right. I tend to dig in right away, and it's just fine. But if you're one of those rule-following types, go ahead and refrigerate it.

Serve this dip with gingersnaps (yum!) or apple slices (meh).

Here's your printable copy, if you'd like.

Now tell me, what are YOU doing to celebrate fall this weekend??


Linking this post to Amanda's Weekend Bloggy Reading Linky Party at Serenity Now.

What I Learned on Sabbatical - Part 3

What would I do without it?

How would I manage?

How would I communicate?

How would I survive?

All these questions plagued me as I prepared to leave house and home for a month last summer.

Was I going to miss my dog?

Sort of.

Not really.

Was I going to miss my daughter?

For sure, but I knew I’d see her a couple of times.

What I really wondered if I could live without, pathetically, was the internet. Because the place we rented didn’t have wi-fi. Can you imagine? And the 3G service up north was spotty at best. In order to check email, read blogs, update Facebook, or read a Twitter stream I’d have to go to an internet café about 15 minutes away.

The inconvenience of it all.

The first week, I went through withdrawal. I think B and I went into town three or four times that week, all under the guise of needing something at the grocery store, but as we were walking to the car we’d throw in our laptops with a comment like, “Well, as long as we’ll be in town, we might as well check email.”

Yeah. Sure.

The second week, I’m pretty sure my eye was twitching, but we probably only went to town a couple of times to check email. And I started to notice that there weren’t that many emails to check.

Popularity has never been a problem in these parts.

By the third week, B had figured out that he could at least look at his emails on his phone, even though he wasn’t answering them. His work phone offers Verizon which, as we quickly learned, has much better coverage up north than AT&T, which my phone uses. So B could just take a quick glance at his emails without having to go to town.

I suppose, if I was desperate, I could have asked him to check my email for me on his phone at the house. But you know what started to happen by week three? I wasn’t that desperate. Oh, sure, I stopped by the café once or twice, but there wasn’t that much of interest waiting for me – either in my in-box or on Facebook. (I’ve never loved Twitter, so that really wasn’t a temptation at all.)

And, you’ve probably guessed by now, that by week four I had completely unplugged. No going to town. No checking email. No updating Facebook. None of it.

You know what the best part was? I stopped caring.

I knew that by the end of our sabbatical, during which I did not update my blog, my readership would have declined from very little to basically nothing, so I didn’t even bother to check to see how many people had visited me. The great thing was, it didn’t matter to me.

We had had an amazing month away from it all—email, Facebook, blogs, work—and I felt refreshed, relaxed, and completely unplugged for the first time in years. And it felt good! For someone who enjoys social media as much as I do, that’s saying something.

I realized that I had been reading a whole lot more than I usually do. Did you see the list of books I read while we were gone?!

And so, the third and most important lesson I learned while on sabbatical is that not only had I become ever-so-slightly addicted to the internet (hush, my family!), but also that it’s really O.K., beneficial even, to unplug every now and then.

I realized that I had become much too tied to the internet and that, for me, I needed to pay attention to my IRL people. I needed to pull myself away from whatever was tying me to the internet (blogs, especially) and allow myself to be freed from it.

It’s a strange addiction, blogging, because there are so many wonderful things about it—I’ve learned so much and grown so much as a Christian as a result of blogging—but there are also some harmful things too. (Comparison trap, anyone?)

For me, unplugging for a month was a wonderful surprise. I learned that I can and should live in the here-and-now more than I do. Yes, it takes discipline to close my computer and not be tied to it all day long, but I’m a much healthier person when I do that.

You’ve probably noticed a little bit of how this has impacted me. I’m not blogging as much as I was before. In fact, it was a little bit hard for me to get back into it. I thought about quitting all together, but I don’t really want to do that. Yet.

For now, I’ve decided that I won’t let the internet rule my life. I’ll blog when I want to, and I’ll read blogs and comment on them when I have time. I’ll maintain the blogging friendships I’ve made because they’re important to me, but I’ll also try to maintain the friendships that I have right here because they’re important too.

Mostly, though, I’ll remind myself that a month went by without the internet and the world still turned. 

Beautifully, I might add.

Getting Back in the Front Seat

Y'all (I don't know why, but this post just seems to need a collective noun at the beginning).

Y'all. I feel so behind on my blog right now that I don't know where to start. Teaching this semester has thrown me completely out of whack (cliche, I would tell my students). My schedule is off--probably because I'm waking up at 5:45 a.m.

Y'all. This is SO not me. Five forty five, indeed.

Everything still feels so new and so strange in my life right now. I scrub together something that resembles a meal most nights. (Very strange.) I throw in a load of laundry when necessity calls, if you know what I mean. (Kinda strange.) I can't even manage a phone call or an email to those closest to me. (Sorta strange.)

I keep waiting for life to seem normal again. Will it? Or is this strangeness the new normal?

Just in case this is the new normal (and I'm kind of figuring it is), I have GOT to figure out where and how blogging fits into it all. Because blogging is not something I am willing to give up in my life. I've made too many wonderful friends and have had too many fantastic opportunities to give up now.

With that in mind, I am just going to start from here. Right now. I'd like to catch you up on what my life has looked like for the past month or so, but I can only remember this past weekend. Let's start there, shall we?

And then let's move on, pretending like this past 6-week hiatus (oh, o.k., 10 week hiatus if you count the sabbatical in there too) didn't really happen.

So, what have I been up to, you ask? Papers. Grading papers. Lots and lots of papers. I know why I signed on to teach two writing classes this semester--it's the only way I could get a half-time position--but let me tell you, common sense was not my strong suit when I said yes. Oh sure, I knew in my head that having two classes of 21 students would mean a potential 42 papers to grade at the same time. (I know what you're thinking . . . I should have majored in math, right?) I knew in my head that I would actually have to GRADE all of those papers. But did it register in my soul? Where it really counts?

No. It did not.

And by last night my soul and my eyes were hurting.

I got pretty crabby this weekend and I took it out on the people I love. Man, I hate it when I do that. 

But here's the good news. Between grading papers on Friday night, going into work on Saturday, and getting over-the-top-stressed-and-crabby, I had fun with my people.

Saturday was a gorgeous, if not slightly chilly, day around these parts. It was a day for doing something we had never done before--something we had always talked about doing but just never pushed "send" and actually went about doing. We went to my favorite city that just happens to be right up the road and pretended we were tourists.

In case you've never heard, Chicago has a pretty sweet architecture river tour. I know! I had heard of it before, too. And I had heard it was really great, but I had never done it. Neither had B. Or Julia. (Caroline had gone on the tour once in 8th grade, so this was old hat for her.)

You know what's funny? Almost everyone I told that we did the tour on Saturday has said to me, "Oh yeah, I've always wanted to do that." That was us, too, until Saturday. Now we can actually say we did it.

And I'm so glad we did. What an amazing tour. What an amazing day. What an amazing time we had just being together, enjoying a beautiful blue sky day in Chicago.

A peek at my new favorite building to grace Chicago's skyline--the Trump Tower.

Yikes! Look at that waddle! Christmas is coming--can anyone say neck lift?

The Merchandise Mart where Glenda and I visited a couple of weeks ago. Isn't she a beautiful building?

My girls and me. *smile*

So what does the week ahead look like for me? Meeting with students. Teaching classes. NOT grading papers (this week, anyway). It's good. It's fulfilling. And it's lots of fun.

And what about here? The blog? What will that look like this week? Well, I'll tell you, because if I tell you here, out loud, that it's going to happen, I'll make pretty darn sure I get it done.

Tuesday - My final "What I Learned on Sabbatical" post.

Thursday - an awesome book review. Can't wait for this one.

Friday - A NEW RECIPE!!! I know! It's been forever. Partly because my camera broke. (Something about a teenager having an unfortunate incident in my basement.) And partly because I don't cook that much anymore. But this one is a yummy fall treat that you won't want to miss.

So there. Blogging is now taking a front seat again. If it kills me.

Won't you join me for the ride?

Photo credits: B. (Thanks, honey!)

What I Learned on Sabbatical – Part 2

I’ll admit, I was a little nervous. All that time . . . alone?

We invited our parents to spend some time with us at the lake for the first two weeks of our sabbatical. Julia was with us too. Kate came up for a few days. The first two weeks kept us busy and happy with family.

But the second two weeks? Everyone had gone home, Julia was at camp across the lake, and we were completely and utterly alone.

Aside from a few vacations, which were wonderful, my husband and I had never spent two, uninterrupted weeks together in almost 20 years. Twenty years! I could hardly remember what it was like to be “just us.”

I wondered what we would talk about for two weeks. Did we even have anything in common besides the kids?

I wondered if he would give me the space and freedom I had become accustomed to, or would he want to spend every minute glued to my side?

And, yes, I wondered if he’d be chasing me around with “that look” in his eyes for two weeks. Help me!

Let me just say that my fears were entirely unfounded, and I learned a valuable lesson: The empty nest is going to be just fine.

Truth be told, the beginning of our time alone was a little quiet. I missed the kids. I missed the noise. I missed the activity.

But we quickly settled into a routine that looked something like this:

6:00 a.m. – B got up and went outside (he just does that). He would either go fishing or for an early-morning bike ride or sometimes just sit on the dock drinking coffee. The guy doesn’t sleep much.

7:30 a.m. – I’d roll out of bed, looking for coffee.

8:00 a.m. – I would start my work—either writing or lesson planning.

9:00 a.m. – B would come in looking for a second breakfast.

9:05 a.m. – Upon finding no breakfast, B would make it himself.

10:00 a.m. – Sick of studying, I’d get up and take a walk or a bike ride. Or maybe a shower.

Noon – lunch, usually on the dock, in the sun.

The afternoon would find us lying on the dock, in the sun, reading until we fell asleep. You should have seen our savage tans.

By around 4:30 or 5:00 we’d get dressed, maybe have a glass of wine (still on the dock), and try to decide where we’d like to eat dinner. Or maybe we'd take a drive to see what kind of crazy-and-unusual Northwoods culture we could find.

I know. Life was rough on sabbatical.

The great thing was, B and I never got tired of each other, probably because we gave each other space to do what we wanted to do. We didn’t have to spend every waking moment together, but the waking moments that we did spend together were fun. Relaxing and fun.

And you know what? We had plenty to talk about. Of course we talked about the girls, but we talked about other stuff too—ministries we’re involved with, our jobs, the future. You know, stuff.

At the end of our “alone time” I realized something really important: after 26 years, I still love hanging out with my husband. He’s just the right guy for me. He puts up with a lot, he listens to my stories (over and over again), and he still likes to be with me. Oh sure, we have our differences; what couple doesn’t? We don’t focus on those—we focus on the things that make us better people.

Our nest will be empty in just five short years, and we’re already starting to think about what that will look like. After these two weeks together I know one thing: it’s going to be just fine.

Because after 26 years (31 by then), we still like each other. And that, in itself, is a gift.

What I Learned on Sabbatical - Part 1

Yesterday I had a headache all day. I woke up with it, taught two classes with it, and went to bed with it. It could have been hormones, or it could have been a lack of caffeine, I’m not sure, but there it was, my constant companion yesterday. A dull throbbing that reminded me of the obligations and time constraints of this life we’re living right now.

It’s a good life. I’m not complaining. But it’s sure a different life than the one I was living on Long Lake this summer.

Now that our days have returned to “normal” and “routine,” now that the weather is turning and I’m starting to think about fall, and now that our tans are fading (so sad!), it just seems fitting to reflect on our summer a little bit.

Ahhhhh, summer. Ahhhhh, sabbatical. I miss you so.

I learned a thing or two this summer, oh yes I did, and I thought, rather than forgetting these important matters, it might be a good idea to write them down. So over the next few days I’ll be sharing three important lessons I learned this summer.

Let’s start with what should have been obvious to me all along, but what was probably the most glaring lesson that needed to be learned.

Lesson 1: My husband needs outdoor time.

Like I said in a previous post, B was like a little boy, running in and out the door all day long. He was happy this summer in a way I had not seen him in a long time, if ever. And I realized that this, nature, is where he is most in his element, most like himself.

Not sitting around a boardroom table. Not behind his computer. Not behind a desk or running a meeting or meeting with clients. All these things he does on a regular basis, but after this summer I am more and more convinced that he could happily leave those things behind tomorrow.

What really feeds his soul is being outside. Fishing. Paddling. Biking. Anything as long as he doesn’t have to report to anyone or have anyone report to him.

I should have known this about my husband. In the 26 years that we’ve been married, his favorite vacations have been those few (very few, I’m sorry to say) vacations in which he’s had ample opportunity to just be out in nature.

Sadly, we’re different in this. I like cities, villages, towns, highways and byways. I like exploring back alleyways and seeing new things. Nature? I could take it or leave it (especially the bugs!).

But B? He NEEDS it. He’s been a good sport all these years, tagging along on my adventures. But what he really needs is downtime . . . outside.

My biggest takeaway? Get the boy outside more! Especially as his job becomes more demanding and he feels pressure from all sides, he will feel loved and nurtured if I allow him to be where he’s most himself—in nature.

What does that mean? I’m not sure. Maybe it means I’ll just send him outside more, like his mom did when he was little. (ha!) Or maybe we’ll have to be more intentional about taking his kind of vacations more often. Or maybe he will just have to say “yes” a little more often when guys invite him to go hunting.

Whatever the case, it was so good to see him completely unwind while being outdoors this summer.

So I married a Nature Boy. Who knew?

I'm Giving Myself an F in Multitasking

I’m obviously not a good multitasker.

Since school started last week I have opened my computer about 600 times to start a blog post, thinking that maybe someone out there might be missing me. Funny thing is, blog posts just don’t magically appear. Poof!

It would be nice if blog posts magically appeared. I would like that very much. But, as I tell my students, their essays won’t write themselves either. You have to have an iron butt. Sit it in the chair and don’t get up until the work is done.

And so, this afternoon, my butt is firmly planted in my chair with no intention other than to write a blog post.

Back to multitasking. I’m terrible at it. Complete failure.

Oh, sure, I can manage to get some laundry done while reading up for the next class. I can manage to scrape together some leftovers for my family to eat while I’m folding that laundry. But other than that, I’m a one-task-wonder. Maybe I’m ADD; I don’t know. But lately, multitasking is kicking my iron butt.

School is going great. I love my students. I love being on campus. I am energized like I haven’t been energized in a long time. (Just don’t tell my family because usually I come home dragging like nobody’s business. I’m tired at the end of the day!) But teaching energizes me. I love it!

The thing is, I just can’t do everything, and I can’t give everything in my life the time it deserves right now. Take, for instance, my bed that I’m staring at right now. It is unmade and it’s making me crazy, but I left the house at 7:00 this morning and just did not have time for it.

I have to let some stuff go.

Including blogging on a regular basis. I’m frustrated and I’m sad, but writing blog posts on a regular basis just isn’t happening for me right now. My brain is too tired to think of anything to say.

I’m fairly confident it won’t be this bad all semester. I’m pretty sure I’ll fall into a rhythm and my days won’t seem so frazzled. But for now, I’m giving myself a little grace to blog when I want and not worry about the numbers or the comments or the stuff everyone says you need to have to blog well.

I hope you’ll keep checking back anyway. Maybe I’ll surprise you.

If you’d like to suggest a topic for me to write about, I’d be more than happy to give it a shot. It’s just that right now, the topics just aren’t coming into my head. There’s too much else going on in there right now.

Like what-on-earth I’m going to make for dinner now that the leftovers are gone?

Eager Learners

Standing in front of a class can be intimidating.

Standing in front of a group of high-achieving, highly-motivated, top-of-the-line Christian college students is terrifying.

Especially after five years.

I wondered if they could tell I was nervous. I wondered if they could tell I was out of practice. I wondered if they would mock me behind my back . . . or, heck, even in front of me.

They could, you know, mock me. They would have every reason to do so. It was not a good hair day.

I wondered if they could see me sweat. Sweating was something I was really good at today.

And I wondered if they could tell that I didn’t sleep very well last night. All night long, every time I flipped over (which I did a lot of last night), I pictured myself walking the halls of the very old building in which I teach. I don’t know why I was walking the halls—I’m the old ghost they can’t get rid of, I guess—but I do know that in my dreams I never really made it into the classroom.

Bad sign.

Thankfully, though, I did make it into the classroom. Twice. I’m teaching two classes this fall; same subject, both, because we don’t want to confuse the old ghost and plus we’d really like her to pull her hair out grading 42 papers at a time. What was I thinking?

Is it too late to back out now? Probably not. They’ve been paying me since July.

Anyway, I made it through the first two classes without too much trouble. Even a baboon could walk their way through a syllabus and tell the kids to write something. Which is pretty much all I did today.

I learned something today, though, which I will share with you just in case you have someone going to college soon or who is in college now or in case you’re thinking about going back to college someday soon: these kids are eager learners. And I say that in the kindest possible way.

Now, my oldest, Kate, was what you might call an eager learner. She was the kid who always raised her hand in second grade--you know the kid, the one who wiggled her fingers like crazy and rested her arm in the other hand when it got tired--just hoping and praying the teacher would call on her. Kind of like Horshack in the old “Welcome Back, Kotter” show.

Remember him? “Ooooh! Ooooh!”

Anyway, I know for a fact that some of Kate’s elementary school teachers didn’t appreciate her learning style. They might not have seen her eager hand waving raising as a positive thing in their classroom. They might have even thought it was annoying.

But I always found it endearing.

Anyway, today’s students would put Kate to shame.

Five years ago, the last time I stood in front of a classroom full of bright, shining, college-aged faces, my students were kind of aloof. Occasionally someone would talk to me after class, but rarely, and I do mean rarely, would a student come to see me in my office. Only in the most dire of circumstances would one of my students venture up to the third floor cubicle where I resided back then.

Back in the day. When I taught with confidence and my students were just normal.

Today I have already fielded two emails from the same student wondering about his research topic. (Hint: the paper is due at the end of the semester—16 weeks away!) I’ve had one student come see me in my office about the same thing. I had one student give me an official-looking government-type document excusing him from class on Monday (he has to go out of the country—the nerve!) And I’ve had about 15 students shake my hand and introduce themselves.

Honestly, I was overwhelmed with their kind welcome back to the classroom.

I shared my surprise with my family over dinner and they all agreed that these kids are the product of their competitive environment. They have all been told to meet the teacher, stand out, to make an impression from Day One.

But really? Maybe a few could just wait to meet me on Friday.

Because to tell you the truth, after getting up at some God-awful hour (well, compared to the God-nice hour I had been getting up all summer) and spending eight—EIGHT!—hours at work today (folks, I honestly cannot tell you the last time I put in an eight hour day at any job) I went home with a wee bit of a headache.

Not from the students. They were delightful.

If not eager.

Two classes down; 46 to go.

Back to School--wherever you choose school to be

My kids all go back to school this week (I go back to school this week too!), so I guess the back-to-school theme has been on my mind lately.

Source: None via Shelly on Pinterest

Along those lines, I saw a comment on a blog recently that I just can’t get out of my mind.

The blog post was from a mom who was pouring out her heart about sending her first child off to first grade. Lots of conflicting, difficult emotions there.

I remember.

But the comment. Oh, the comment. I can’t help it, but it has bothered me so much I want to scream.

The commenter basically said something like this: “Well, if you homeschooled you could just keep her with you all the time and enjoy all those precious moments of learning together.”

Where do I begin? There is just so much wrong there.

For one thing, the sweet young mama who wrote the post might not have had a choice. She might need to work outside the home to support her family, as many moms do.

On the other hand, she may have also chosen to send her child to school—whether private or public—for reasons that are personal to her and her husband.

And for a third . . . well, I can’t think of a third. Do I have to?

I know many moms who have chosen to homeschool. That’s their right and their privilege. My husband and I chose—CHOSE—public school for our children for many reasons, all equally valid.

The homeschooling mother who made that comment probably wasn’t thinking at the moment. She was probably just so thrilled with her choice that she thought everyone would be happy if they did the same.

But I’ve had friends do that to me early on in our schooling career—try to persuade me that their way (homeschooling) was the best way—and I have to say it turned me off more than anything.

I have never tried to persuade anyone to put their kids in public school. I will happily tell you of our experience, if asked, but I would never say to you, “Well, if you put your child in school you’d have so much more time to serve the Lord elsewhere” or something equally as inane.

I guess the reason that comment got to me was because I just plain don’t want someone else making my educational choice for my children and my family. And I don’t want to make that choice for you or yours.

So what do you think? Was that mom out of line? Or does she have a point?



We sure have fun over here at the Wild Side, and I'd love to have you join our band of followers. You can "Follow" me right over there ----->. Or you can sign up to have my posts emailed to you. Either way, I'd love to see you around here again!

Five Minute Friday: New

Source: lemontreecreations.blogspot.com via Shelly on Pinterest

Wow, I haven't played Five Minute Friday in a long time! I've kind of missed it.

And today, because my life has suddenly spun out of control, five minutes is about all I can give.

I love Lisa-Jo's word for this week--"New"--because it really seems to fit my life right now. So, without further waste of words, here I go.

START

New.

New job.

New office.

New clothes. (Of the teacher variety.)

New schedule.

New rhythm to my days.

New learning-how-to-do-this.

New students.

New technology.

New adjustments for my family.

New dinnertime routines. (One less person at our table.)

New friends.

New colleagues.

New lesson plans.

New thinking.

Everything feels new to me right now. I am a bit like a newborn foal, legs splaying in all directions, trying to figure out how to walk, even run, at this new pace. My head feels foggy, spinning, discombobulated from all I'm learning right now.

It's all new, but it's also all good. Because what hasn't changed is so much stronger, so much greater, so much bigger than what has.

STOP

So can you tell what's been on my mind this week? *sheepish grin*




If you want to read more "New" posts, head on over to The Gypsy Mama. She's got about a hundred links or more for your reading pleasure.

Now tell me . . . what's NEW in your life?

Stuart Smalley's Guide to Getting My Groove Back

Source: google.com via Shelly on Pinterest

Today I embark on a new adventure.

After a five-year hiatus—five years of blessing during which I started this blog, had many opportunities to speak, and made lots of new friends—I’m heading back into the classroom. (Classes actually start next week, but today I’m attending a New Faculty Orientation.)

I’m returning to a classroom where I’ve taught off-and-on for the past 20 years. To teach a class I’ve taught 12 or so times.

So why, this time, am I so apprehensive?

Why, this time, does it feel so much harder?

The first time I taught this class I was 28 years old, working full-time, and pregnant with my first child. I had finished my master’s degree a few years earlier and wanted to give teaching a try, so I didn’t think twice when I was asked to teach at my alma mater (where I was also working). I taught on my lunch hour and loved every minute of that semester.

Never once did I think about failure. (Even though I had no idea what I was doing.)

But now? Today? I think about the possibility of screwing up every single day. I wonder just exactly how I’m going to handle the sudden busyness of life. I wonder if my students will laugh at me. I wonder what I’m going to say to them every day.

So why the change? Why do I doubt myself now?

I’m listening to the wrong voices. I know it. I try not to do it. I battle it. But I still listen to the wrong voices.

Yesterday I read a wonderful post by Michael Hyatt in which he talked about this very thing—self-doubt--and he gave five suggestions for changing the voice we’re listening to. I thought it would be helpful for me to just walk through Michael’s suggestions as they pertain to my current situation.

Hyatt says:

1. Become aware of the Narrator. Hyatt says to ask ourselves: What is the story I am telling myself right now?

I’m listening to a story of failure, of ridicule, of incompetence. Sad, but true. I’m wondering why God would choose me to teach this year when I thought I’d be doing something else.

2. Evaluate the story the Narrator is telling. Ask: Is this storyline accurate?

No, it’s not accurate. It’s not even close to accurate. The way things “fell into place” for me to have this position, the timing of everything, was absolutely God’s doing. I have no doubt that this is where He wants me this year.

3. See the story from a larger perspective. Ask: How does God intend this situation for good?

From the day I said “yes” to going back to teaching, my family has been so supportive. My girls are obviously older now, and our family situation is much more manageable than it was five years ago. It’s time. I know that.

I also think one really important aspect of the “bigger picture” is my students. I’ve always enjoyed my students, but now, as a mom to a college student, I feel an even greater affinity to these kids. As someone in my family pointed out one day, “Mom, maybe God wants you there to minister to your students.”

I know He does.

4. Affirm what you know is true. Ask: What do I know to be true?

The truth is, I’ve always gotten good evaluations from my students. My department chair always has positive things to say about my work. I know in my heart that I’m a really good teacher.

What is true is that I can do this. I’ve done it before and I can do it again. With excellence.

5. Write a new script. Ask: How can I make the choices that create the best possible story?

The way I see it, I can choose to just “get through” the semester, or I can choose to see my job as God-given, God-ordained, God-blessed. I can choose to be unprepared when I walk into the classroom, or I can be well-prepared and teach with excellence. I can choose to have surface conversations with my students every day, or I can choose to show true interest in their lives.

Now that I’ve written all this out, I kind of feel Stuart Smalley-ish. Remember Stuart Smalley? He was the SNL character of long ago who used to say, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!”

But, hey, maybe that’s the voice I should be listening to right now. And if that's what it takes to get my groove back as a teacher, I'll Stuart Smalley-speak into my life every day if I have to.

(Thanks, Michael Hyatt. This exercise has been really helpful.)

As I head into this new adventure, with all of the changes it brings, I could sure use some extra prayer. Thanks in advance!

So how about you? Are you listening to the wrong voice about some situation in your life? Spill it!

I'm Over at MODsquad today!

Good Monday morning! How was your weekend?

I'm excited to share another week with you--lots of big changes around my house this week. More on that later.

If you're a mom who needs encouragement like I do some days, head on over to the MODsquad blog to read my post there today. I hope it will encourage you for the week ahead.

Is Heaven Is For Real For Real?

So many of you have asked what I thought about the book Heaven Is For Real that I figured I’d better just put it out there.

Once I figure out what I really think of the book, that is.

A little background first. While we were on sabbatical a friend gave me this book to read. I had never heard of it other than maybe in passing on the news. I had never read it. I really didn’t know much about it at all.

So if you’re like me and don't know much about the book, I’ll give you a quick two-sentence synopsis. Colton Burpo, not quite four years old, has an emergency appendectomy and is very near death. Several weeks later he begins to tell bits and pieces of what happened to him while he was on the operating table, and it seems to his pastor-dad that he has been given a glimpse into heaven.

The rest is the book Heaven Is For Real.

I honestly don’t know what I think, other than knowing that the book has certainly stayed with me.

I decided, for the sake of research, to read what some others have said about the book and found reactions that range anywhere from “Cool! He went to Heaven!” to “Hmmm, maybe.” to “No way. No how. There is nothing like this in the Bible anywhere.”

A little grace-less, that last post, in my opinion.

Here are some things I know:

- Nobody in the Bible had an experience like this and came back to tell about it. Yes, Lazarus was dead, but once he came back to life there is no biblical evidence that he spoke about his experience in heaven.

- God has told us everything we need to know about heaven in the Bible. He doesn’t need a little kid to do His work for him.

Here are some things I wish:

- I wish God had told us a little more about heaven in His word.
- I wish I understood heaven better.
- I wish I longed for heaven more—I think it would change the way I look at the world around me.

Here are some things I felt after I read the book:

- More secure in the love God has for me. There’s a part in the book where the parents ask Colton what God looks like. He thinks about it for a long while and then he says that God is big. But then, rather than focusing on what God looks like, he says (and I paraphrase), “He loves us so much. He really, reeeeeaaaaally loves us. You can’t believe how much God loves us!”

As someone who constantly struggles with wondering why God would love me—little old unworthy me—this section of the book made me stop and think for a while. And cry just a little bit. Because when I think about the marks on Jesus’ hands and feet (another part of the book), I have to ask myself, who am I to question God’s love for me? He sent His SON to die for me. Of course He loves me!

(He loves you that much too, by the way.)

- Really excited to get to heaven someday. There are people I can’t wait to see there. My brother, especially. And my dear Grandpa Earl. I thought of them constantly as I read this book. Do I think they are eternally sitting by a pond fishing together? I have no idea. But do I know without a doubt they are there, waiting to greet their loved ones. Yes, I do. And what a glorious reunion that will be.

But here’s where the book and I part ways. My biblical understanding of heaven is that worship will be a huge part of what we’re doing in heaven. It’s not ultimately about seeing our loved ones again. It’s all about Jesus and His Father, and laying our lives before His throne because of what He has done.

And there’s very little of that in the book.

There are lots of stories about a long-lost grandfather or a too-early-lost sister who was miscarried long before Colton was born. There are reflections about what Jesus looked like and what He was wearing. And a really hard-to-believe part about angels flying around.

But where’s the worship?

“Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. In a loud voice they were saying:

“Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise!”

Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying:

“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, 
for ever and ever!” Revelation 5:11-13

Personally, I don’t want to spend my time in heaven focusing on my past hurts, losses, or griefs. I want to spend eternity focusing on the One who loves me so much that He would give his life for me.

Do I believe Colton’s story? I still don’t know. I think I will always take the 5th on that one.

Do I want to believe it? You bet.

Is his story the most important one and the story where I should focus my attention? Absolutely not.

And maybe that’s the best takeaway I could get from this book.

Northwoods Funnies

**In the interest of full disclosure, there may be some slightly inappropriate content at the end of this post. My children have seen these pictures, but you may not want yours to see them. Just sayin'. And I promise this will be the last time anything like this ever occurs on this blog again.**

This is the post about our sabbatical that could practically write itself. As we spent time getting to know the Northwoods, we started to notice some pretty, shall we say, interesting, sights. Coming from the land of the A-type personality where every "i" is dotted and every "t" is crossed, it was refreshing to spend a little time in a place where that kind of thing doesn't much matter. 

At all.

Our journey begins on a road. A single road with not much else around it. B and I were driving to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan one day (lest you think that was a far trek, it really only took about 45 minutes to get to our destination) when he looked down and saw this on his GPS:

You know you're in the middle of nowhere when your GPS shows no other roads . . . or landmarks . . . or even a rest stop for goodness sake!

As our journey continued, we drove through the town of Watersmeet, MI, a welcoming sort of town. 

But what struck us as so funny was that this is the only place in the world that is actually PROUD to be called the Nimrods! In fact, it's plastered all over town--even on the side of the high school.

Go Nimrods!

Of course my husband had to research the meaning behind the word Nimrod thinking that for sure there had to be something more to the pride these people had in their name. I could have told him a Nimrod was a dolt, a dufus, a dummy, but no, he had to go and prove me wrong. The original meaning of the word was a mighty hunter, but these days, thanks to popular culture, most people think of a Nimrod the way I do.

They might want to consider a name change. Just sayin'.

On our way up to the U.P., we passed a sign that made my head turn. In fact, I saw it for a brief second, but wasn't really sure I had seen what I thought I saw. If I had really seen what I thought I saw, this was for sure going to be blog fodder for quite some time.

So on the way home we looked and looked and finally found it--the sign that made us laugh until we cried.

As my husband said, "Because you just can't get any better than pizza and chips made by a ho!"

Just in case you're wondering where you can get such delicious delicacies by such highly specialized chefs, you'll find your "ho-made" wonders at a place called Buckshots Saloon.

Reservations accepted.

Finally (and here's where you might want to shield the eyes of your children), on our way to dinner one night, we were driving down the road when we drove past a bar which, I remarked, was usually quite crowded. "Hmmmm. Must be good," we both mused.

As we came a little closer, we saw an unusual sight looming from the back of a pickup truck in the parking lot.

We were driving quickly past, but suddenly our heads shot around to take another look. For the second time on this trip we found ourselves wondering, "Was what we think we saw really what we saw??"

My quick-thinking hubby laughed and said, "Wait a minute! What was that? I've gotta go back and see this!" So he turned the car around and drove past the bar a second time.

We drove into the parking lot to get a better look (and to get a few pictures) and found this:

But the best part was that I wasn't the only person taking pictures that night.

There's just nothing more to say about that.

We loved our time in Northwoods. And we thank them all for the many moments of hilarity.

"And much, much more."

So let's speculate. Where would YOU put a sculpture like that? Where do you think it was going?

Your Sabbatical Questions Answered

You had questions. I've got answers.

Let's get to it, shall we?

Richella asked:  "Where did you live for the month? In a cabin on that gorgeous lake? In a lodge? In a cottage? In a tent (I think probably not)?" 

Ha! A tent! Perish the thought! Actually, Richella, we stayed here.

This two bedroom, two bath cottage is about 10 feet from the water. There was no air conditioning (none needed except for about two of the days), but all of the windows opened up. We left the windows wide open most of the time, so in the morning we woke to the sound of the water lapping the shoreline.

And this was our view. Every morning.

Except for one morning when we woke to basically whiteness. Fog was everywhere! You couldn't even see the water at all and the sound (or lack of it) was surreal. That was an interesting morning.

Speaking of mornings, Glenda wanted to know if I slept in or watched the sun come up over the lake. Well, in northern Wisconsin the sun comes up awfully early. We're talking 4:45 a.m. And there was a skylight in our bedroom, so by 6:30 or 7:00 I was awake and ready to go. And even at that early hour, I had already missed the sunrise!

"What was the weather like where you were? It's been hot as blue blazes here; I'm hoping you were in more temperate climes." Sorry to hear about your heat, Richella. You should head north. Seriously, we had the best weather and I've got the tan to prove it. Except for the week my parents visited us from Arizona (I think they brought their hot weather with them), the weather was between 70 and 80 every day. It was a little humid, but no big deal. And at night the temps would go down to about 50, which is perfect for sleeping.

And the best part? Hardly any mosquitoes! We brought all kinds of bug spray with us, thinking that the Wisconsin state bird truly was the mosquito, but we really didn't need it. I think I used bug spray maybe twice.

Glenda asked: "Did you read anything fun?" Oh yes, but my reading was really across a large range of topics. Some was research, some was for fun. It was such an eclectic mix that I'll just list it out for you here.

1. "The Courage to Teach" by Parker Palmer. (Just getting ready for my next big adventure.)

2 and 3. "The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag" and "A Red Herring without Mustard" by Alan Bradley. These are the second and third in the Flavia de Luce series. The first was "The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie." Oh how I love Miss Flavia!

4. "In the Woods" by Tana French. No comment.

5. "Give them Grace" by Elise Fitzpatrick.

6. "Heaven is for Real" by Todd Burpo and Lynn Vincent. A friend handed me this book and said, "Have you read this? Here, I'm finished. Read it." So I did. It didn't take long, but it will stay with me much, much longer. Still thinking about this one.

[edited to add: 7. "The Red Queen" by Philippa Gregory.]

(self-incriminating photo of me reading)

You know what I didn't read? Blogs. No internet (unless we drove to town).

Here's a great question from Genda: "Learn anything new about your husband?" Hmmmm. I'd have to say yes and no. No, because it's not so much stuff I learned, but yes in that I needed to be reminded of a couple of things. Like how much he loves to be outside. I'm telling you, my husband was in his ELEMENT out on the lake. He'd get up in the mornings, throw in a line or twenty, come in for breakfast and then head back outside. He was like a little boy. "Bye Mom! I'm going out to play!" and zoom, the back door would slam and he'd be gone. He also loved paddling his little boat around or taking long bike rides. My guy was happy! (I'm thinking through another post about stuff I learned while on sabbatical, so maybe I'll write more about this later on this week.)

Last question: "Did you cook simple meals or more complicated ones?" Glenda, my dear, the most difficult meal I cooked was steak on the grill. We definitely ate out too much, but when I did cook, the meals were ridiculously simple. Whatever we could grill was pretty much our fare.

So, you can see that relaxation was the name of the game on our sabbatical. We did a lot of driving around and exploring, too, which brought us to tears in laughter sometimes. Come back tomorrow for a glimpse into the more funny side of life in the Northwoods.

Linking up with Amanda at Serenity Now--Weekend Bloggy Reading.

Sublime Sabbatical

Well, folks, we’re back. After four weeks in the Northwoods of Wisconsin, sitting by a lake and simply enjoying being together, we’re finally back to reality.

(And just to make sure, I took a trek to Target this morning and got a swift kick of reality right in the keister. But I didn’t even glance at the school supplies aisle. That can wait.)

So how do I do it?

How do I condense one happy, relaxing, fulfilling, sunny, joyful, memorable month into a blog post?

I’m not sure I can, but I’m willing to give it a try. Let’s go for one of the good old essay-starter standbys—the dictionary definition.

Sabbatical: "any extended period of leave from one's customary work, especially for rest, to acquire new skills or training."

Let’s “unpack” this term, shall we? (And while we’re at it, let’s also agree never to use the term “unpack” again. K?)

“Any extended period of leave . . .” One month could be considered extended, dontcha think? Especially since I’ve never spent a month away from home with my family, ever. Other than the summer I spent at Oxford as a college student, I’ve never spent a month anywhere.

“ . . . from one’s customary work . . .” My husband, I think I may have mentioned, is a business man which makes the sabbatical concept even more unheard of. You should have seen the looks we got when we told people we were going on sabbatical. “Really? But he’s not a pastor,” was usually the response we would get, along with the quizzical looks and head scratching that goes along with the utter confusion on their faces.

Nope, my husband is not a pastor or a missionary or anything having to do with that line of work. He’s just a guy who works hard at his job (for a great company which he is never allowed to leave, I might add) and sometimes spends long hours at the office. He also works hard at some of his volunteer responsibilities at our church and for a mission organization. Let’s just say that this guy gives a lot of himself to others, so to spend some extended time doing things quite unlike his usual, is, in itself, a gift.

“ . . . especially for rest . . .” Ahhhhh, rest. Now that’s what a sabbatical should be about. And rest we did. We did everything we wanted to do—spent time with our parents, our kids, and good friends—but mostly we just rested. I can hardly wait to hear the reactions of the people at work on Monday when they see B. He looks like an entirely different person—tanned, long-haired (although that will come to an end before Monday), and completely and utterly relaxed.

“ . . . to acquire new skills or training. . . .” Would fishing be considered a new skill? How about driving a boat? Or tanning on a dock? Because that’s pretty much all my husband learned how to do. (O.K., to be fair and because I know he’ll call me on it, he already knew how to fish.) The main thing I think he learned, though, was how to relax. How to really and truly pull himself mentally out of the game and to fully invest himself in just doing nothing.

So we’re home now. It may take some time to process what this all meant to us, but maybe it could best be described in terms of an experience I had earlier this week. We had a perfect, and I do mean PERFECT, day on Wednesday. Some friends had come to visit us for a couple of days and the weather was absolutely gorgeous. We had rented a pontoon boat for the day, so we spent several hours on the water, enjoying the scenery, watching the eagles float overhead, fishing a little. As the day was coming to a close and we skimmed across the water toward home, I found myself getting completely choked up. Thankfully I was sitting in the back of the boat so nobody could see me, but I couldn’t help crying just a little. Here I was with people I loved, doing something I love to do, on a perfectly beautiful day. God’s goodness to me was overwhelming; I just couldn’t take it all in. The gift I had been given was impressed upon my heart, my mind, my soul, and I knew I would never forget it. I probably looked like an idiot, but through a few tears, the only way I could express my gratitude was to look up at the perfectly cloudless blue sky . . . and smile.

Overwhelmed? I am. Blessed? Oh yes. Smiling from head to toe? Definitely.

I have so much more to tell you and lots of photos to share, but I’ll get to that next week. It’s so hard to know where to start and how to “unpack” it all (kind of like all the dirty laundry in my suitcase—ugh). Maybe it would be easier if you asked me some questions and I’ll answer them. Just leave a comment or a question you might have about our time away, and I’ll try to get to them next week.

Until then, I think I'll go take a nap.

This post is linked with Richella's "Grace Imparted" party. You can read more stories of blessings over there.

Not quite August, but I thought I'd give you a glimpse . . .

Sitting: On the dock.

Time: 6:47 p.m.

Watching: Two amazingly fast jet skis racing across the lake; an eagle floating high above the water.

Hearing: the buzz of the jet skis, the slight splash of the water as it hits the rocks on the shore, the jingle-jangle of Brian’s lure as it comes out of the water, laughter from the kids on the party barge across the cove.

Smelling: Lake water, what else?

Tasting: wine on my tongue

Feeling: the softest of breezes on my sun-kissed skin

Perfect contentment? I think so.

See you in August!

Source: joannagoddard.blogspot.com via Shelly on Pinterest

Source: None via Shelly on Pinterest

It Only Happens Every Seven Years

Today is interview day. An interview with . . . me.

Conducted by . . . me.

That's all about . . . yeah, you guessed it.

Because I have some news to share with you. Nothing too earth shattering, but you may want to sit down for this one.

So Shelly, what are your summer plans?
Well, Shelly, this summer is a big summer for us. One we've been thinking about for, oh, about seven years. My husband gets to take a sabbatical from his job this summer.

A sabbatical? Is he a pastor or something?
Nope. He's not a pastor or a teacher or anything like that. He's just a businessman who works for a great company with a sabbatical policy.

How long is his sabbatical?
Four weeks. In addition to his regular vacation.

And what will you be doing on this sabbatical?
Me? Working, most likely. I've got a lot of writing to do. And then there's this matter of classes I'm teaching this fall. I need to work on my syllabus, get to know a new textbook or two, and make up some assignments. But the good thing is, I can do most of this from a chair on a dock.

Source: google.com via Shelly on Pinterest

Him? Fishing. Canoeing. Reading. Relaxing. And definitely NOT working--he's not allowed.

Where will you be?
All I can say is that we'll be someplace where the internet is not. Cell phone service too. For a four-computer (six or seven depending on how you count it) family, this is going to be a challenge.

How will your husband manage?
I've been asking myself the same question.

Do you have a stack of books to take with you? If so, what are they?
What a silly question! You of all people should know that I will bring a stack of books, and an eclectic stack at that. I've already mentioned the textbook (it's called They Say, I Say just in case you're interested), but aside from that, here are a few titles on my list.

The entire Chronicles of Narnia series (because, I am so embarrassed to admit this, I've never read them all).

The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag by Alan Bradley (sequel to The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie - lovely book)

The Red Queen by Philippa Gregory

In the Woods by Tana French (recommended by Amy . . . a bunch of times!)

Give them Grace by Elise Fitzpatrick

Will your family come with you?
Oh yes, for part of the time. Various family members, including our parents, will be in and out for the first two weeks. One of our kids is at camp for the summer, so she won't be there--so sad.

For the second half, though, we're sending them all home or back to work or to camp, so B and I will have two weeks to ourselves. That hasn't happened in almost 20 years!


I'm a little afraid.

Will you be able to blog?
Be able to? I guess so. That's kind of like asking your 4th grade teacher "Can I go to the bathroom?" and she looks at you over the top of her glasses and says, "I don't know, can you?" Of course I could write blog posts till the fish jump in the boat, but will I? I think not.

Why not?
Lots of reasons, some intensely personal that have a lot to do with questioning why I do this day in and day out with so little feedback and results. If I were a stronger person, I probably wouldn't care about all that, but I'm weak, very weak, and I do wish for more. I'm tormented. Seriously.

But I also think it will do me some good to step away for a while. And write, quietly. Over on the dock. Without putting it "out there." Maybe I'll write some stuff I want to share with you. Maybe not. I have no idea what I'm doing other than following my husband on his sabbatical with a canoe on top of my car and some bikes hanging off the back.

That said, I will miss you, my friends. And I wish you a very, very happy summer.

See you in August!

I'm linking this post with Amanda's Weekend Bloggy Reading. If you'd like to follow my posts (when they resume in August) just head over there -------> to sign up!

Good Reads

I know what you're thinking . . . "Good Reads . . . on a Wednesday?"

I like to keep you on your toes.

Anyway, I've found so many great posts lately that I just had to share, so today's the day. Deal with it.

First up, Shannan. I've been stalking following Shannan for a while now, and I have to say that, although I don't do favorites, she's one of mine. This girl is an absolute gem. And I'm so sad to say that I missed her by thiiiss much at Blissdom last year. *insert sad face here* One of these days I will meet Shannan. I just know it. And I will hug her dearly for the way she makes me laugh and for the three precious babies she has adopted and for knowing just how to turn a phrase. Like this one in the post I'm highlighting today: "Life is just so much better since I learned to hunt down goodness and put the dang thing on." Don't you just love that??!! Anyway, head over there and read "Goodness is a Sweater."

I know you're not as forgetful as I am (hush, my daughters!), so you probably don't need this handy-dandy little tip, but just in case your passwords are out of control, you might want to check out this post from Life . . . Your Way. Very cool.

Have you heard all the kerfuffle about the Oxford comma? Personally, I've been kerfuffling about it for years in my class, but finally . . . FINALLY . . . somebody has listened. (Truthfully though? I didn't know there was a name for my punctuational pet peeve.)

Oh boy, did I ever resonate with this article from Relevant magazine (aside, of course, from the "s" the author put on the end of the word "mission" but that's just me): "The Missions Field of Suburbia." If you've ever felt guilty about living the suburban life or have ever felt like you're wasting your time here when you could be overseas, you have to read this one. It's also the very reason we chose to put our kids in public school--there's a lot of work to be done everywhere.

"How to Live Your Best Life" by Ann Voskamp (it wouldn't be a Good Reads post without her, would it?). This one got to me for so many reasons, but mostly because it's just. so. true.

Suzanne writes Privet and Holly, which I love. Just yesterday she posted "Behind the Scenes" that I thought was so tender and sweet. It's about loving all the people who quietly serve us day in and day out. Go read it.

Oh, and Life . . . Your Way may or may not have run a post highlighting yours truly last week. *insert big grin here*

That is all.