I will love what I do, and I will pray daily for God's grace to help me love those things which I need to love and do not. He will answer my prayer abundantly, in his own way and in his own time. I know this; I have lived this; but that is another story. Loving what I do matters greatly because my children are born persons--brilliant, caring, needing, broken persons with the amazing ability to detect my hypocrisy long before I even know I'm being a hypocrite. Likewise, they also know when I am being a faithful guide, philosopher, and friend. We are ignorant fools if we think this love does not matter. At the beginning of the third and final day of the LER, we heard from a panel of teens educated for most of their schooling with Charlotte Mason's educational philosophies and methods. What a privilege it was to hear them speak. They spoke about things their parents had done well and about things they had not done well. Some spoke about being a part of the Truth, Beauty, and Goodness (The Hive) learning community, and it was in this context I realized how much loving what I do matters--because it matters to our children. One teen shared of learning from other teachers in the community-- "The moms teaching what they really love and what they are good at." This is what mattered to him. And it is what matters to my children and the children in my community. Three years ago, the plate I brought to the feast was pretty empty. I had no love for anything beautiful; I was not good at anything that would even begin to remotely constitute a Charlotte Mason education. But by God's grace, I am not where I was, and as I look to the future, I'm not where I will be. |
By Dawn Rhymer This blog is the third and final part in a series written to journal a few of the things I hope to do as a result of attending the 2017 Living Education Retreat. Here are links to Part I and Part II. I will love what I do--for the children.
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By Dawn Rhymer This blog is Part II in a series written to journal a few of the things I hope to do as a result of attending the 2017 Living Education Retreat. Part I can be found here. 5. I will learn one new nature-thing a _______.
By Dawn Rhymer Life should be all living, and not merely a tedious passing of time Charlotte Mason, School Education (V3) p. 170 These words of Charlotte Mason were before me the whole weekend. I was at the Living Education Retreat (LER), and the quote was printed on a banner placed behind the podium in the main meeting room. Each time we gathered as a group, I was reminded through the soft and gentle echo of the banner, "Live, live, live."
As I drove home, after sweet goodbyes to many friends, I found myself asking the same words the crowd posed to John the Baptist as he began to prepare the way for Christ: "What then shall we do?" I wanted to return, not merely with thoughts and ideas which would be quickly crowded out by the hustle and bustle of a busy home, but rather with a clear grasp of those things which I would do. How would my life, and potentially the life of my family, be changed by the small investment of a weekend? I am going to reflect on each session I attended and choose one thing which I do not want to forget, one thing I can do so that life can be all living. By Dawn Rhymer (This blog was originally published in January 2013.) "A slight rewording of John 15:13 may be helpful for us Christian moms: “Greater love hath no mom than this, that a mom lay down her life for her family.” Laying down our lives doesn’t sound fun, but Jesus said that whoever loses his life for God’s sake finds it—and the life we find in Him is abundant! What perspective, hope and blessing!" -- Kari Lewis
I have recently started to receive the magazine Home School Enrichment. I'm actually not sure why. I have a suspicion that I may have signed up for it when I attended a home school conference this summer (I guess that makes sense, but I have no memory of it). As I look at the mailing label, I see that it is a sample subscription. Maybe someone out there signed me up for a sample subscription. If you did, thank you. By Dawn Rhymer But a child cannot dream parts of speech, and any grown-up twaddle attempting to personify such abstractions offends a small person who with all his love of play and nonsense has a serious mind. Charlotte Mason, Philosophy of Education, V6, p. 210 "Does figuring out grammar really need to be this hard?" As a mom new to Charlotte Mason, I first had to grapple with the idea of not starting grammar until fourth grade. The program I had previously been using with my children had them beginning formal grammar in first grade. At the point of making this transition in our lives, Charlotte Mason's educational philosophies and methods were like the warm glow on the horizon letting one know the sun was coming. They looked appealing, but in reality I knew nothing about them. She thought quite highly of children and believed their minds were very capable. But really, who was she and why did she need to be so contrary about EVERYTHING? With a clear conscience I could find a "Charlotte Mason" grammar program for my fourth and sixth graders, but I also couldn't seem to let go of it for my second grader.
By Dawn Rhymer Words like “authentic” and “purist” have recently been zipping around the Charlotte Mason community as if in use of a pepper-box[i]. It is a hot topic which has both caused me to stand a little taller, sure of my place, and simultaneously stoop lower, reminded of my complete ignorance. Many blogs have been published in the weeks I have been working on this post. I have read a few, but not all. As I slowly puzzle through the ideas presented, I find a repeating question echoing in my mind, one I cannot have others answer for me, but one I find I must deal with alone. Am I an authentic Charlotte Mason Educator? The shower turned on, and I heard the dull footsteps leave the room and descend the stairs. I refused to open my eyes; it was dark out, but morning was soon to invade. My daughter, who had kicked and screamed her way through the night, finally lay still beside me, her heavy breathing and warm body peaceful for a moment. The empty shower with the running water could not be blocked from my mind.
By Dawn Rhymer The event of CMER 2017 has come to a joyful end, but for the hearts and minds stirred there, Lord willing, it is not over. Here is my response to a friend who was praying for us.
We look forward to sharing parts of it with you over the next several weeks. To begin, this is the Welcome Letter shared at CMER 2107. “Mom, why are you doing this thing with this retreat?” This was the question posed to me by my oldest son just days ago.
I had not been directly asked that before by anyone, let alone a teenager who had been listening to and watching his mom for months preparing for the Charlotte Mason Educational Retreat (CMER). How was I to answer? Why was he asking? What did he want to hear? I had no short, well-rehearsed answer. I thought the answer required time and perhaps a story. He, of course, was not looking for that. So I fumbled and said, “Because I like doing these kinds of things.” The question reverberates in my mind, “Mom, why are you doing this thing with this retreat?” I should have had a better answer ready for him, because there is a better answer. I should have been ready to share with him the mission and vision of the Charlotte Mason Educational Retreat. By Dawn Rhymer I would like to take a walk. I would like to take one every day. I would like to take one no matter the weather. It would be fine to be alone; it would be equally fine to have the company of my children. There is just one problem with this idea: I'm not doing it.
It happens often in my mind's eye. I can smell the fresh air. I can feel the glow of the sun on my skin. I smile as I recognize the plants and trees which have become my friends along the well-trodden path. I know when the flowers are going to appear; I know them by name. I hear the sounds of the train in the distance and the gobble of the neighbor's turkeys. But I hear more than just the familiar; I hear sounds I have never heard before but have always been there. This idea is not a new one, as it has been on my mind for years. Sometimes, it is forgotten in the busyness of life and weeks can pass without a thought of it. But it returns with gusto, perhaps when I see a familiar neighbor making his rounds, hear of my Mom taking a walk with my Dad, as I read Miss Mason's words of encouragement to get outside, or a child shares the joy of a discovery in the yard. Yet, I do not go. By Dawn Rhymer "Beauty awakens the soul to act." Dante I have been reflecting recently on my journey toward beauty. Only a few years ago, there was little place for beauty in my life. (You can read a small part of my journey in A Charlotte Mason Story). Beauty was a waste of time, money, and energy. Beauty was not pragmatic, and the few times I made a feeble attempt at beauty resulted in failure, bolstering my conviction it was best left to others who didn't have anything better to do. (You may, at this point, sigh and shake your head with the sadness and frustration of one who knows better.)
Recently, my family had the opportunity to perform a shortened version of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. It was chaos, and it was beautiful. As we were standing in front of our church about to begin, I looked around and--while trying to keep my voice steedy and calm--asked, "Where is Scrooge?" Scrooge was being played by my six-year-old daughter, and she was not to be found. One of my older children yelled from behind a curtain, "She's in the bathroom!" One could do nothing but laugh. However, as I reflected on Scrooge (the character--not my daughter), I have to admit, I saw a bit of my former self in him. By Dawn Rhymer
"Look closely. Can you see it? It's just got to be there."
She was lying on her back, her arms outstretched before her, holding her science journal up against the black, star-flecked sky, a chart taped in place, her red flashlight dimly illuminating it as her eyes studied the page before her and then shifted to the sky. Perhaps if our neighbors' lights were off. Perhaps if the glow from the nearby town was not so bright. We were supposed to see it with the naked eye; it should have been there. "One star, two stars, hop, hop, hop." I silently sang the made-up song in my head, trying to get my bearings in the sea of stars. I began to slide, my slick, polyester sweatpants being a very poor choice to wear inside an equally slick, polyester-lined sleeping bag on a slanted roof. I was too lazy to climb down the ladder to go inside and change, but I did make a mental note to be sure that next time we were using and wearing the proper gear to stargaze on the roof, especially leading into the winter months. The temperature on this night had already dropped into the thirties, and the six-year-old, who had joined us on our adventure, had now confiscated most of the blankets. She wasn't even looking at the stars but was a huddled mass in the cave she had created and had no interest in leaving. The temperatures in the months to come would be bone-chilling, but I tried not to think about it as I laid beside my budding astronomer who seemed unfazed by both the temperature and her younger sister's actions. "I think I can see it, Mom! I can! I can!" |
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