You’d think with all the couch time, I’d pick up my handy-dandy laptop and check-in here once in awhile. If I’m not even loyal, how do I expect you to be? I mean, I have more “spare time” now that formal schooltime is out, dinner is baked potatoes and overpriced salad-in-a-bag, and Mr. Rogers entertains the kids instead of me.

If you want clean clothes, you have to find them in the pile in the hallway.

So, you’d think I’d have enough sense not to accept a kitten-sitting-that-might-turn-into-permanet-keeping-kitten position. I hate cats. They’re snobs, and I didn’t like cheerleaders in high school. But I’ve grown. And maybe I’m just trying to prove my maturity. Or maybe I’m just insane. Or maybe I’m trying to pacify the kids with a lower maintenance animal that doesn’t require daily walks, obedience school, and a sitter when you go out of town.

I’ve always got an angle, and I’m too honest to deny that I choose anything without weighing what’s in it for me. Or if you want to say it another way, Jonathan Edwards claimed that we always choose to do that thing that we most want to do. I wouldn’t have accepted the cat if I didn’t want to. Even if I wanted to.

But I wanted to and I did. So, why did I do it? Because now the kids have another thing to chase instead of each other. Because I felt bad about killing Speedy, the Beta fish, that my son bought with his own money. Because hamsters stink and when I was a kid, my hamster ate all her babies and got loose in the walls. Because watching my son put the cat in a Tupperware bowl attached to the back of his remote-control car makes the time here on the couch go by a lot faster.

And the kids really like her. I even saw my husband petting her on his lap the other day. But he left town right after that, so I don’t know what that means.

I’ll fork out the bucks for cat food if it makes the nausea time any more bearable. But when I get better, she better have learned to fetch my shoes by then. Either that, or she needs to enjoy the racecar ride a little longer before jumping out.

Just like Carmon, I’m an agrarian sympathizer. But unlike Carmon, my capitalistic thinking needs a little twitching (that would be, uh, tweaking) before I can join the club. Many of you probably don’t know that I have agrarian aspirations, but I see it more as a means to accomplish other things that I consider valuable rather than just a goal in itself. I know that my thinking will change and mature as I (hopefully) grow in my understanding of it. Be easy on the novice.

When I began this site, the purpose was to keep in touch with family and friends while we were disconnected briefly from our conservative brotherhood. Yep, we were in California. While I’ve enjoyed meeting lots of people and even beginning new real-life friendships because of being online, it still presents a difficulty in saying all that I want to say. I did not know that other people would be interested in stopping by this little corner on the web, as I had not ever read another blog before my own. (This is a true story.)

This means that now I must write with discretion and with reservation. People who know me in real life know that the way I talk online is magnified to the tenth power in real life. That is to say, perhaps my use of discretion online would be better put to use in real life. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to practice my apologies in like manner as Anne Shirley.

I do not mind switching courses, and as I’ve pondered my time online here, I consider it still an appropriate use of my energy, even though the initial purpose has changed. When my responsibilities are such that it requires that I spend less time thinking to and amusing myself, I will close the site and not look back. Or if I humorously fall on my face in an attempt to save the day and my husband doesn’t continue to say, “Blog that,” then I will likewise shut down the site. Or if there is a better way to glorify God in the time that it takes to type this (at about 40 wpm), then I will do that.

Now, before this turns into naval-gazing, I’d like to connect the first paragraph with what I set out to say. Both my husband and I have agrarian aspirations for a couple reasons. I’d like to explain our thinking process, as there are still real life family and friends who read this site. (Though they will not admit this publicly by making a comment, I hear that I haven’t yet mortified anyone.) Another reason I’d like to think aloud through this is because it is easier to see flaws in our own process and motivations by breaking it down into parts. I think this might be valuable to our children in the future, and the analysis is good for our own future forward movements in the direction.

I received good advice from Rick Saenz when I lamented, “But how?!” in response to his series on Simple Living. He replied something like, “Take little steps. Just keep taking them in that direction.” This is akin to Elisabeth Elliot’s famous advice to, “Just do the next thing.” In the coming weeks, I’d like to think through some of these steps aloud, but I won’t necessarily do it in order. I’ll file all the posts under Living Simple.

Just a quick follow-up to yesterday’s post. I wanted to quell any rumors that I’m closing down the site. My hosting is paid for until next March. Now, I might reconsider in March 2006 on whether or not I want to pay $7.95 a month to entertain you and get my ideas dunked, but I’ll revisit that next year. I’m with my son (see sidebar) on this one: the whole thing is just weird.

Too, you weren’t there the other night when I was lamenting the state of our laundry. Upon getting ready for bed, I was rummaging through my dresser and moaning that I had nothing to wear. My husband says, “Of course you have something.” So, my hand flew out of the drawer holding two garments and I yelled, “You-want-me-to-wear-a-sweater-or-a-turtleneck?!” It’s 90 degrees after the sun goes down. He laughed hysterically and in between breaths replied, “Blog that.” It’s just one of those situations where “you had to be there.”

I know it’s not that funny. But my point is that he’s still saying it, and it’s one of my criteria. Also in the comments, someone mentioned how books are better than blogs. I agree. So, I will amend the criteria by which I will continue blogging by saying that I’ll shut this thing down as soon as I get my first book deal or column. And unless publishers are posing as discount prescription dealers in my email box, I’d say that you have a good chance of me sticking around.

Now, the part about using discretion is not that I’m trying to tailor the writing to a particular audience; I’m amazed that there’s any audience at all. What I meant is that I hope to make the writing a reflection of my current thinking and activities, and if you think that the ruckus of the day is a dumb kitten, then I hope you’d tell me to get a life.

Even when I read my blog, sometimes I think I need a life.

No, the truth is that I’m finagling spreadsheets late at night, not reading Chesterton by the fireplace. In the past month or two, we’ve bought seven rental units, and already we’ve got all the possible case study material for Every Landlord’s Legal Guide. I frequently tell my husband, “Oh, please, let me write that up.” He replies, “It’s not funny yet.” I figure that the way things are going, I could write it up and everyone would just think I’m making it up for entertainment purposes anyway. Nobody would believe it’s that bad. And I will tell some juicy tales later, but right now, everyone would just feel real sorry for us. Trust me. And I need a maid right now, not sympathy.

So, speaking of real life, I need to answer a few emails. I haven’t had an internet connection today, so I’m a little behind. See, the dishwasher repairman finally came out yesterday for the fourth time to fix the new dishwasher that’s been out of service for a month now. (Yes, it’s under warranty. Do you think they’d take that long to fix it if they were collecting money from me?) So, I had the chance to give the repairman a piano lesson, and he entertained me and the kids by singing and jamming in Spanish.

After he left, a bad storm rolled in and I heard a few pops, so I went over to my computer to shut it down. Upon putting my finger on the pad (that thing you use instead of a mouse), lightning hit and sent me flying back and yelling. I got a bad shock, but to make the story more interesting, I’ll say that I was hit by lightning….indirectly. Three of the kids were wailing because of the boom and the kitten went into hiding. Hopefully, it’s permanent. The cat part.

Yep, my life is boring. I don’t even want to talk about what the lightning did to my newly installed computer chip in the dishwasher, but maybe when the repairman comes again at the first available appointment ten days away, he’ll have practiced some of the riffs I showed him. And for the next lesson, we’ll sing some Spanish blues.

Brian Chapell, president of Covenant Theological Seminary in St. Louis, has written several books on marriage, Christian living, and expository preaching. In this book, Chapell sets out to change our priorities in prayer such that “when Jesus’ priorities come first, our prayers will change. They will be less self-oriented, more Christ-directed, more blessed, and ultimately most satisfying to our hearts.”

The basic premise of the book, as you may be able to gather from the title, Praying Backwards, is that we should begin our prayers where we usually end them, by thinking about what it means to pray “in Jesus name” before we start. “When our routines [tagging on a quick, ‘in Jesus name, amen’ to the end of our prayers] have desensitized us to [Jesus’] priorities, then it’s time to begin where we end.” Chapell sets out to describe what this looks like by describing what it means to pray in Jesus’ way, to pray without doubting, to pray in the Spirit, to pray boldly, expectantly, and persistently, and to pray in God’s will and wisdom.

A constant theme throughout the book is that when we begin praying in Jesus’ name, our entire modus operandi in prayer changes. As Chapell says, “When we perceive the greatness and goodness of our God, our prayers become not so much a seeking after God for our purposes but an offering of ourselves for his purposes.” I think I need to read that sentence again.

This is not a superficial treatment of prayer as it is thoroughly laced with scriptural content. Chapell also deals effectively with difficult subjects such as the persecution and starvation of Sudanese Christians in light of the petition to “give us this day our daily bread”. He calls the reader to lift their understanding above the superficial and material to that which matters most.

In addition to being a thorough treatment on the subject for the average lay-person, the book contains two very helpful features. First, every chapter is concluded with an example prayer highlighting the subject of the chapter. These serve as effective reinforcement of the subject matter of the chapter. Second, the book has a study guide which consists of a series of questions on the themes of each chapter. I found the questions to be thought provoking and a helpful reminder of the main themes of the book. It’s a good review and reinforcement of what was just read. He must be a preacher or something.

Overall, Chapell writes with a very pastoral style. His points are reinforced first with scripture and second with effective, and often very personal, illustrations. He does not approach the subject of prayer academically; rather, his illustrations indicate that what he writes is what he lives.

I highly recommend this book as a helpful spark to your prayer life and as an interesting discussion starter for your own family’s prayer life.

For more reviews on this book, visit Diet of Bookworms.

I know it’s Monday, and I know that I’d post something here about my “new series” if I were a dedicated blogger. But it’s the time of day that all stay-at-home-moms of babies and preschoolers long for, wait for, and count the minutes until: the all-treasured naptime/quiet time. Cue trumpet fanfare and break-out the secret stash of chocolate.

But…have I mentioned yet that I’m sick? Anyone?

I keep thinking, “Only two and a half week until it gets better…” I refuse to consider anything of a longer sort. If you think I’ll post more often then, you’re wrong. (Home)school is gearing up, and I’ve got a lot to catch up on in the house. How would your house look if you laid on the couch for weeks? Sure, the counters are wiped clean, but I double-dare anyone to set foot in the walk-in pantry, the storing house of all junk when the doorbell rings.

Yes, and I hear that there’s a snake under the oven. (I’m suspecting, though, that it’s a lizard.) I don’t make this stuff up.

As I was saying, it’s quiet-time. And just for today, I’m going to lay here on the couch and be quiet. After I grab my chocolate.

It seems like I have a lot of explaining to do. My email box is telling me that I should’ve included the whole wanna-be-agrarian speech in one post. But since naptime is only about an hour and a half (sometimes two hours, if you run them hard in the sun during the morning hours), I’m going to have to write in snippets. Either that or I’m open to an invite for a nice long dinner wherein I’ll tell you all about it.

It all started in my teenage years with my Amish fascination. I read every book I could about their culture, sewed authentic dresses using Amish patterns (no, I didn’t wear them), and arranged dried flowers on straw hats to give myself some ambiance while I planted and tended my puny suburban garden. Small steps, I kept telling myself.

At 17, I’d composed a letter to mail to “Any Amish Family” in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, but I never did mail my appeal to apprentice. The crème’ la (don’t know the word) was when my husband took me to Lancaster to visit his grandfather. It was the first time I’d seen farms, rolling pasture, and handmade quilts drying on the line. Incidently, the first Amish person I saw in Lancaster was in Burger King, but that’s just a side note.

Now, I mention this not because I still harbor romantic notions about a more simple life, but just to say where I came from (suburbia) and to confess that my initial pinings were misguided and ill-informed. But I was a teenager, and that explains everything.

Just as another side note (because this weblog is a journal for my kids), my husband took a picture of an Amish teenager on another trip to Lancaster. He was working in a corn field, and the sky was bright blue behind the boy. Greg stopped and asked him (knowing that it is against their religion to take pictures of themselves), and not only did he concede, but he asked Greg to mail him a copy. (Teenagers!) Greg did, and they corresponded regularly after that.

About a year later, we returned to Lancaster to visit his grandfather again, and we stopped by the family’s house (of the boy we took the picture of). After us awkwardly waiting while they privately conferred among themselves, they invited us for a tour of their farm and for a ride down the lane in their buggy. This was the first farm I’d seen up close anywhere other than the movies, and I remember that it stunk to my uncultured nose.

More later when I get a chance. And just for contrast, this is the rocket my husband will help launch tomorrow.

Just a quick pic…

There are many good books I’ve read over the years, but the way I define a truly great book is one that causes you to change something in your behavior. In other words, a great book, in my opinion, influences a person into action, and knowledge isn’t gained for the sake of triumph in Trivial Pursuit. I’m sure that there are other criteria that make a book great, but I’m partial to action. My personality demands it.

One of my favorite books is The Complete Tightwad Gazette by Amy Dacyczyn. This book has had a profound influence on my thinking over the years. I read the book early on in our marriage when my husband was a youth pastor, and we were living (well, I might add) on a small church youth pastor’s salary. During this time, we married and added two children to our family. I won’t post our salary here, but I will say that, according to the government, we were below poverty level and should’ve turned to them for aid.

I can’t write further without acknowledging the providence of God. Our shoes did not wear out, our appliances did not break, and our cars were in good repair. Like so many other things, we labor but God is the one who gives the increase. Now, the shoes in our house get outgrown before they wear out, the dishwasher still doesn’t work, and people make fun our cars. But we have the funds to repair and replace our things, and so, we see this as the providence of God too. And if we didn’t, we’d see this as Providence as well.

In the articles contained within The Tightwad, I found in them a voice that put into words what I’d thought in the back of my mind for a long time. In one article, Dacyczyn mentions briefly that she’d rather spend the weekend painting her barn than sunning on the beach, and I found myself identifying with her sentiment. There is something satisfying about working toward a tangible goal that produces something profitable. The reward of relaxation is not such a climax after wasting the day in frivolity. In contrast, lying down after a productive day of labor is sweet.

Agrarian or not, simple or not, we can all use our “talents” to make more “talents.” If you need ideas on how to do that, Dacyczyn’s book is a good start. You will be encouraged to think outside the box– if you can focus on her articles and refrain from getting caught up in all the small reader tips. They are just ideas to get you thinking.

Before this book, it had never occurred to me that you can make your own Rice-a-Roni and Windex for a quarter of the price. I thought everyone just buys that stuff at Wal-Mart. Or Target if you have a little extra dough.

I mention this book to say that the wheels have always been moving in this direction, to recommend it to young mothers trying to live on a budget, and to give background on where we’ve been before I tell about where we want to go.

In the next post, I’ll answer Holly’s question, “How and why does someone strive to increase their land holdings and wealth, while at the same time seek the simple, agrarian life?”

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I want to take a minute to add a “P.S.” to the last post about thriftiness. While I extol thrift as a virtue and while industry is a prominent characteristic of Mrs. P 31, there must be a P.S. after the mention of it. Industriousness is not the ultimate virtue; loving God is the supreme thing.

Oftentimes, I find myself extolling or analyzing some idea, virtue, or method. It’s a pasttime I need to curtail. Sometimes I’m correct in my assessment, but more often than not, I need to rethink my thinking. While I admire thrift and those who practice it, it must be said that I also adore, admire, and seek the friendship of those who don’t think it’s worthwhile. There are seasons in life wherein we will do better with this particular virtue—thrift—than others.

I’d also like to mention that I’m not The Thrift Police and will not retrieve clean containers from your garbage if I’m at your house.

I remember having three babies aged three and under. (In the latest issue of Above Rubies, a mother of 11 mentions that it was much harder with three under four years old than it is with her current 11 children.) After our third child was born, I sold my cloth diapers on Ebay and hit the store for disposables. And I picked up my first frozen dinner while I was at it.

The moral of the story, I think, is that we should do all we can with what we have in each season in life, and then give thanks for it. Loving God with your whole heart will bring you freedom in your mothering; it is the main thing. Don’t get bogged down if you haven’t learned to make your own biscuits yet. You should try, but you should also embrace the season you’re in.

Awhile back Dr. Al Mohler published an article titled, “Deliberate Childlessness: Moral Rebellion With a New Face.” Here’s his follow-up.

This blog deserves a visit, especially this post.

Homeschoolers are challenging the education monopoly.

I’ll try to drop in during naptime today with a post, but no promises!

A couple entries ago, the question came up, “How and why does someone strive to increase their land holdings and wealth, while at the same time seek the simple, agrarian life?” Holly further elaborates,

I had just read Richard Foster’s Celebration of Discipline, the chapter on simplicity. Don’t know if you have ever read that, or not…but he pretty much presents it as “wrong” for a Christian to garner any wealth. Having given it thought, I don’t agree with him. I think a gluttony of wealth used on selfish pursuits is improper, but I am also well aware that a Christian who has been blessed (and used good stewardship principles) with wealth can do much good. So, that is the background upon which I read your blog entry, and I was just curious as to how this all practically plays out in the real world, not the theoretical world. Plus…most people don’t go agrarian and buy rentals at the same time. You’re a paradox.

I don’t know if I’ll answer this rightly. I think a real agrarian (such as yourself) might be able to answer the question better. It is possible that there are flaws in our thinking, but thinking through these things is part of the process. If you told me last year that we’d be saving for a farm, I’d have probably believed you. What has changed in the course of a year is why we are thinking in that direction. But that is another post.

If you haven’t seen the movie, City Slickers, then I don’t know how else to explain it. When I began my first major gardening project two years ago, I had grand expectations. It was only about 800 square feet, but that’s also the size of our apartment we lived in for six months in California last year. (But we won’t go over that again.) Also, 800 square feet is pretty impressive out here in the suburbs. I checked out every gardening book in the library, digested every article on organic methods, and set out my seed order extra early.

This was before I figured out that I lived in Florida.

Florida gardening is an entirely different section in the library, and the general gardening category is 100% useless to those trying to make anything grow in zone 9. Furthermore, organic methods only work when you’re trying to grow things in organic dirt. We only have sand in Florida. But I was pretty smart about getting my seed order in early.

The plants (which I grew in a makeshift greenhouse) were ready for the ground February 1st. I know pretty much all of you still have snow on the ground at that time, but there’s got to be something positive about living in Florida. After two months, I got a respectable crop of yellow squash and tomatoes, but everything else cost me more in materials than it yielded.

Then we did the thing that we could never undo: We put fresh lawn clipping down on the plants as mulch. No matter how many bales of hay, gallons of weed killer, and rolls of black plastic we put down in the past two years, the weeds are not budging. To feel our pain more acutely, you have to know the hundreds of hours spent preparing this garden: a dump truck load of dirt delivered that took my husband many late nights of shoveling and moving, a top notch irrigation system installed while my husband worked by floodlight, and an aesthetic border of several hundred feet of wood trim.

You know that scene where Billy Crystal is being dragged by a cow and he yells, “I’M ON VACATION!!!!!!”? That’s me, every day. My husband doesn’t even care that much about gardens. He’ll eat Publix produce. But…he loves me and my schemes.

That was kind of a long story to say that we have a lot to learn. Even people who know what they’re doing have a hard time making a living at farming endeavors due to government intrusion and regulations, et al. We don’t have visions of living off the land completely, selling to the community on a large scale. I will be happy when I can grow just enough to feed my own family, with a little extra for neighbors and for any nice contractors who actually show up.

So, why the rentals? Because it’s a Biblical concept to turn five talents into five more talents for the glory of God. I could spend my five talents on depreciating assets or I could invest it to make more disposable income. It is the love of money—not money—that is the root of evil. Additionally, it is good to note that wealth was a means of God’s blessing to many great heros in the Old Testament and is sometimes true today. Children are also a means of His blessing, but that’s a post for another day as well. (I will say that we’re wealthy in that respect.)

In your email, you said that “a gluttony of wealth used on selfish pursuits” is wrong, but I’d like to take it a step further and say that a dime used on selfish pursuits is improper as well. “Whatsoever ye eat or drink, do all to the glory of God.” It all belongs to Him, not just the increase and not just 10%. It is all entirely His: my money, my children, myself.

Living among the richest nations in the history of the world for all time, I’d be negligent if I didn’t mention that Americans (and Canadians) are materially and richly blessed.

In short, my sympathy for all things agrarian is not a rejection of the modern devices that money affords, but using and investing money wisely is the only practical way a first generation family will ever afford some descent land. For the glory of God and if He wills.

School is in full swing in our house, but it’s not like it ever really stops. We’re just at the part where they know that they’re learning. The house is lookin’ better, and the Mama is standing vertically. We are in a good routine now. Thanks to everyone who asked over the last couple weeks. This just in from my five-year-old:

There is a practice we have in our family that started out unintentionally but is pretty routine now. It starts out by someone in a sing-song voice yelling, “Who loves [name of a person in our family]?!” Then, everyone will yell back, “I DO!!!” and raise their hands high. Then, another caller will ask the same “Who loves” question with a different person’s name, and we will all yell back with gusto, “I DO!!!” And so on.

Occasionally, someone will be distracted and not know that the impromptu ritual is occurring so another sibling will “catch” that person, scoffing in shock, “Ohhhhh! So-and-so doesn’t love so-and-so?” Then, the caught person, who is sometimes myself, will quickly raise their hand as if a fire was just lit under them and yell, “I DO!!!”

All members of the family aged three and under always raise their hand for their own name. It’s just the way it is.

Many families do not share our little game, but they do have their own version of another game, “When Daddy Comes Home.” Just yesterday, I sent my son to get something out of the van, and he returned with the item using the keys in the front door. Baby Energizer, now fourteen-months-old, is at the adorable age where she is learning words and toddling around. Upon hearing the familiar jingle of keys and the sound of the front door opening, she dropped her baby doll (or rather, threw down her baby) and went running toward the door as fast as her chunky legs could carry her while shouting, “DaDa! DaDa!” Imagine her surprise when she saw her seven-year-old brother standing there! We all had a good laugh.

Mothers have the incredible privilege of setting the tone for the home and creating an atmosphere wherein babies, preschoolers, preteens, and young adults know that they are safe and loved. When my children grow their wings and leave the nest, it will be the small, daily things that they will remember and carry on with their own families. And when my grandchildren come to visit, I’ll know just what to do when they ask, “Who loves meeeeeee?!”

Baby Energizer got shoes yesterday. They are big red clunkers. My husband said that they were the only ones in the store that would fit. Well, at least he found a store that had one pair, as I’ve struck out at all the other stores. Her feet are just too wide for even the wide-widths.

So, it was 9:30 at night, and we were all hootin’ and hollerin’ at Baby Energizer as she tried to walk in her new shoes. They were strange on her feet, and she had trouble getting the pattern just right for walking. When she managed a few steps, we all cheered like a Super Bowl crowd. I think the neighbors wonder about us. But what I wonder is, what is there on TV that is possibly more entertaining than a house full of kids?