The Story of the Schaeffers

I knew that I had come to be shown something more of how God works, making
His strength perfect in weakness, as well as to give some answers to
people eager to ask. God is very merciful to us in continuing to help us
to grow, to teach us more of how He works, to give us a growing closeness to
Himself and fresh glimpses of reality. Such things are exciting to me, but
they do not come from "nine to five" in neat little packages of time, when our
energy is fresh, when we have had enough sleep, exercise, and a balanced
meal!
This is not to say that exercise, proper food, sleep, and some sort of a
balanced schedule are not important, but we each need to recognize the Lord's
interruptions when they come, and DO what He is giving us to DO. We are
not in a union! Gideon's battle with so few men and such strange weapons
was not exactly a soothing night's sleep. Nor were Paul's shipwrecks,
beatings, imprisonments, stonings, lack of food and sleep all listed in a
preplanned schedule. So often in history the excitement of seeing and
being a part of God's work is accompanied by afflictions and persecutions and a
diversity of true hardships.
Turning a few pages to find out what happened "next," what happened in the
last twenty-three years, is not really possible if one were not reminded that it
takes twenty-three years to understand and feel the pain, fears,
uncertainties, shocks, and the constant waiting. One can't wait "with
patience" without a period of time that threatens to destroy all patience, that
slowly brings an increasing impatience. Condensed pages of "skimming" the
years may give a false impression...each year is made up of 365 twenty-four-hour
days!
~Edith Schaeffer, L'Abri

These paragraphs are from the end of Edith Schaeffer's book describing the journey she and her husband, Francis Schaeffer, and her family took as they blindly, in faith, followed God's leading, resulting in a cluster of chalets in Switzerland where people from all over the world found their way to stay for a time and listen to answers to their questions and discussions about God and truth. The book is called, L'Abri, which is the name they gave their chalets, the French word for shelter.
What struck me as I read their story was how God led them in a way similar to how He led Abraham, making his will known to them a step at a time as they humbly obeyed in faith, without knowing His ultimate plan. Their story echoes so many other stories I've read of people used in mighty ways by God, people whose lives produced fruit a hundred fold. Prayer, humility, steps of faith, persistent obedience in doing what He calls us all to do, sacrificing their own comforts in service to others, welcoming with generous hospitality all He brought to their doors, and then, at certain moments, stepping into the unknown towards impossible things as He led them. The remarkable results of their life work seem to come from opennes to HIS plan (not concocting their own...they had ideas of what He might want them to do, but they let Him show them incrementally, and never professed to know where it would all lead), fervent prayer whenever they felt lost or up against impossible obstacles or had important decisions to make, and selfless service to others. That struck me deeply as I read the story from Edith's perspective. She never complained about the work, just mentioned in passing once towards the beginning of the story how some people's responding to her husband's conversation with them by coming to joyful faith in Christ erased the resentment she had been feeling about having to work through the whole long discussion. She was the hostess to countless guests who found their way to the "shelter." The Schaeffers didn't have an income other than what God provided for them, so much of their food was grown in gardens and made from scratch. When I think of all the meals she planned and organized and served day in and day out, I'm awed. She raised her four children and travelled with her husband and shared his work load and contributed to the ministry and held conversations with guests and workers who were helping in the gardens and with the meals. She never glossed over how much work it was or what sacrifice was required, but it was never a complaining or resentful spirit coming through her story. When she talked about the challenge it was to have a "family life" with such a steady stream of guests always in their home, she acknowledged that the challenges were real and not always solved. But the main story consists of the miracles, of God showing Himself and His will to them through supernatural workings of circumstances and situations and changed lives. She talks often of the joy of living a life where God kept showing to them that He is REAL.
I kept feeling so thankful, as I read their story, to be able to know some of the details about how God leads people. Their story is so different from other ones I've led in the kind of ministry they had, one of hospitality on Edith's part, and introducing intellectuals to the logic, coherency, and truth of Christianity on Francis's part. But it's the same story, too. People who chose to listen to God and obey his leading in faith finding themselves at the end of their lives having helped, changed, influenced, encouraged more people than they could ever know about.

To Kill a Mockingbird

I'm pretty sure my five year old boy thinks the book I was reading aloud to his daddy was about different ways to slaughter birds, but it's actually a warm, human, touching story that I fell in love with all over again when I read it as the last of my three-book reading spree, and then again to My Hero because he'd never read it.

Atticus, the father in the story, is the kind of man I hope my boys will be someday, and he actually reminds me some of my dad. Especially last night, when my dad was pitying my younger brothers, who are just 16 and 12, for having such an old father. When my older brother and I were growing up, he was younger than most of my friends' dads, but there are 20 years between my older brother and my youngest brother, and by the time the two youngest came along, my dad had more wisdom and experience than almost all the other dads of young boys out there. He joked that he had lots of experience, but he'd run out of energy. Atticus bows out of the more demanding athletic events available to him by saying he's too old, and his kids pity themselves for having such an old father. The irony, of course, is that he's the best kind of father a kid could have, as I'm sure they begin to realise by the end of the story.

I'm finding myself at a loss to talk much more about the story. I could give an outline, but that would be flat and empty. It's the characters and humor and depth of development that make the book so wonderful, and I can't recap that. Just know that if you're looking for a book to read or reread this summer, this one will not disappoint.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

That was the second book of my three-novel reading spree. Here's how I decided to read this one: I checked the Midday Connection Book Club page to see what book we would be reading next. It was a novel I had read in high school English and loved. Excited that I already owned a copy and knowing it was worth rereading after such a long time, I made a mental note. A few days later I went to my bookshelves to pick it out, and had a sudden confusion. Was the book A Tree Grows in Brooklyn or To Kill a Mockingbird? Both I head read in high school English, both I had loved... I debated for a minute, then decided it was definitely A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Part way through the book I returned to the book club page to print off the discussion questions, and saw to my dismay that I had begun reading the wrong book. The book club book was To Kill a Mockingbird. Not dismay about the book, because I loved it, but dismay that I might not have time to read both, and I was far enough into A Tree Grows in Brooklyn to be unwilling to set it down to start another story. I decided I would simply have to finish A Tree Grows in Brooklyn quickly and then read To Kill a Mockingbird. Turns out it really wasn't a problem finishing them both in the couple of weeks I had left before the book club discussion (to hear the discussion, including comments contributed by this shy but avid reader, simply click the listen link next to the To Kill a Mockingbird title.) Here's the kicker. At the end of the program they announced the next book club book to read during the summer: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

Francie has far from ideal parents, but again I found myself closely observing the ways they dealt with their children, good and bad, especially Katie Nolan, Francie's mother. Francie's father is a charming, well-meaning man who can't hold a steady job and drinks too much. Katie shoulders the responsibility of the family, and she's described as made of steel. She has high standards, does everything as well as she can, works hard constantly, loves her children. I'm filled with admiration for her and feel irritated and impatient with Francie's father for his weakness and irresponsibility. But Francie loves her father better. I think there's a softness, and understanding in him towards Francie that Katie doesn't have.

The tree is a kind of tree that grows in the slums of New York. It grows where nothing else will, and in the end of the book, after men had cut it down to make room for electrical wires, it grew back, shooting up in a spot where it wouldn't be in the way, persisting, determined to live and thrive. It's a picture, I think, of the Nolan family, maybe Francie specifically.

There is so much richness in the characters and their relationships with each other I feel completely inadequate to describe or relate, but I feel strengthened, somehow, after reading the story. It's a story of survival, I guess, and hope.

Little Women

I haven't visited this place for...a month. First I went on a reading spree...three fun novels in the matter of a few weeks. And after those were finished...it's (nearly) summer, and summer fills up with a hundred miscellaneous and wonderful activities (that, if you don't watch out, end up crowding out the best life has to offer...have to be so careful not to over commit myself.)

Today I intend to get my garden in. If not fully, then at least mostly. So a brief composition, then outside to dirt and sunshine.

The first book in my reading spree of three:
Inspired by a play performed by the high school drama class of one of my dearest friends, I picked up the book Little Women and read through it in about a week. The story felt so familiar to me, I was surprised to realize I had only read it once, long ago in elementary school. I loved it then, but of course had forgotten so many details... My most vivid memories about my first reading was looking ahead and seeing to my dismay an illustration of Jo rejecting Laurie's proposal. Later I plagued my enjoyment of the story again by absent-mindedly picking up a copy of the book in my school library, flipping through it, and accidentally reading about Jo and Professor Baehr. I had just met him in my actual reading of the book, and the idea that she would end up with that old man horrified me. Happily, by the time I read through the story to where she did end up with him, my mind was entirely changed and I could accept their union with gladness.

This time, reading through, I found myself watching Marmee carefully, and being impressed by how she interacted with her girls. I feel such chagrin and embarrassment when my kids misbehave, such responsibility to steer them rightly when they are doing something wrong. I know my kids are very young, and the girls in Little Women are well on their way to becoming ladies, but I realized there is something wholesome and good about the way Marmee accepts each of them with all their little foibles, saves most of her advice for times when they directly ask for it, finds ways to teach them indirectly through circumstances rather than lectures, and lets time bring them round to talk through things when they're ready rather than jump and worry about each little mishap. It has helped me relax a bit with my own kids, accept that each of them will have their own weaknesses and will never achieve perfection, and see that maybe setting a good example for them, being open about my own struggles in my journey to become like Christ, and finding ways to inspire them to want what's right will be more effective than trying to talk them into doing the right thing in each little situation that arises and feeling the need to correct each small infraction.

That's all for now. Time to give my seeds a start in this already hot and dry late-spring.

Books!

Every day this week (except Sunday, of course) I have opened my mailbox and seen a package or two sitting inside (or once, perched, balancing, atop the mailbox because my Dad, who usually delivers our mail and always brings the too-big packages directly to my door, was adventuring (and ministering) in the rainforests of Brazil). It's a highlight to any day to open the mailbox and see a package squatting inside. It always makes my heart leap a little, wondering what it is, even when it's something I myself have ordered just a few days ago.
In this case, the packages contained books, the very best thing a package could hold. Books piling up in a stack on my bedroom floor.
That stack of books is the gate to the world of First Grade.
Part of me wants to haul Christopher Robin into my lap today and begin reading the first chapter of The Story of the World and give him his All About Spelling beginning assessment. But we thrive on a little structure, and I want to start well, so I will collect all the books, and form a plan for our days, and then, at the right time, we will start. I want the excitement of new books and new subjects to help provide the momentum to establish a routine for our days that will keep us going strong all year.
I bought some books for Peanut Butter, too. His very own handwriting book, because he likes to trace letters, and I figure if he likes to, I'll let him learn. And I think I'll order him a meeting book for Saxon K math. That begins in September, and the program is so simple, really far beneath Christopher Robin's ability (though we'll stick it out and finish it through June because he has learned things from it) that I feel like it'll be about right for Peanut Butter at the age of 4.
For Christopher Robin I have A Beka math, Zaner-Bloser handwriting, English for the Thoughtful Child, All About Spelling, Story of the World: Ancient Times, and for science The Usborne Illustrated Encycopedia of the Natural World, The Human Body, and other books I plan to gather as needed from the library. I also need a decent globe, a world map, and a map of the United States. I'm not sure where to put them, though. Do I really need to dedicate a wall of my house to a map / maps? On the other hand, I love maps, and love how handy wall maps are, because you can see the big picture but also stand close to see small details. I'll be mulling over this for a while...
Peanut Butter has been learning his letters and what sounds they make this year. Just last week he read his first book. Since then, he's been reading a page at a time, not usually enthusiastically, but capably. It's a lot like Christopher Robin started...excitedly finishing a whole book the first time, but then not excited to tackle new ones. I remember for Christopher Robin, reading was exhausting mental effort when he was three. I didn't push it, but brought the books out from time to time to help him practice. He was four when he read through all the Bob books we had, and I ordered more sets for him, and more sets until we had finished them all. By that time, reading was easy for him, and he started reading everything. Remembering that, I've been doing one page at a time with Peanut Butter. One or two words. Eventually it will click and feel easy, and then he'll be unstoppable.

Unprocessed Scripture

Processed foods are natural foods (mostly corn and soybeans, since those are what our agricultural system is set up (and encouraged through government subsidies) to produce in vast quantities) broken down, separated, and put back together into thousands of different (and far less nutritious, largely because of the lack of variety in the foods we eat, since so much comes from those two kinds of plants, and also because of all the added fat and sugar in processed food) shapes and kinds of foods that line our grocery store shelves. So I understand based on Michael Pollan's books The Omnivore's Dilemma and In Defense of Food, and I keep hearing echos of those ideas from sources all around me. The solution? Eat real food. Buy things that don't come in a package or from a factory, but from a garden or field. Even meat should come from pastures and wild waters rather than feed lots or fish farms. Garden. Shop farmer's markets and local farms. Find sources nearby for food that doesn't go through restructuring or human manipulation before it comes into your home.

I'm realising there may be parallels here with feeding myself and my children on God's Word. I have felt real hesitation and intimidation trying to explain God and his ways to my kids. I don't understand Him, and when they start asking me questions, I realise I understand Him even less than I feel like I do. The simple teaching "God made everything" becomes complicated and muddled when Christopher Robin attributes an imperfect dust pan to God ("No one can make a perfectly straight dust pan, but God made this one pretty good," he said today as he swept up crumbs from under the table). Part of my hesitation is that I don't want to pass on my own misunderstandings to them. I know I have biases and blind spots in my faith, and I wish they could grow up without inheriting them from me and being hampered by the same wrong perspectives. Part of it is that my own love for and passion for God is/was dulled by always hearing about it growing up. Maybe not from hearing real truth, but certainly by moralising Sunday School stories that were essentially the same week after week in the Sunday School papers...hearing the same things retold and retold, especially watered-down versions that didn't hold much inspiring substance to begin with. Most of scripture seems so far above my 5 and 3 year old boys' understandings, but I'm always afraid that by simplifying things to try to make it more on their level, I'm leaving out things that are important. I picked up a children's Bible story book in Walmart, and it had some nice stories and mentioned Jesus, but it didn't even tell about Jesus' death and resurrection. I guess that seems like "processing" God's Word to make it more palatable. I've read the story of David and Goliath from I Samuel 17 to my boys probably 50 times (because they ask for it over and over), and it's inspiring to me almost every time I read it. And it's gory. It ends with David taking Goliath's sword and using it to kill him and cut off his head. But I feel a lot of confidence reading straight from the Bible to my kids. It feels healthy, like feeding them an apple. Maybe reading God's Word to my kids is like feeding them whole, real food.

Changing me

Life is never as simple as following a formula.

I held Peanut Butter this morning for a little while, talking to him, keeping him warm in his blanket, enjoying him and filling his love tank.

The rest of the morning did not go smoothly. He cried and begged for help with his one daily chore, emptying the silverware from the dishwasher.
He begged me to sit and hold him during breakfast. I had already eaten and had my own list of things pressing to get done.
He cried about getting dressed, even though I helped him with all of it and then wrapped him in his cozy blanket again. He sat at the table in front of his untouched breakfast and cried.

It was a rough start to the morning.

Still, I tried to find ways to connect with him and times to hold him throughout the day, and by the end of it I'm feeling like things are better between us. I should have known it wouldn't be a simple, one-step fix, and maybe really not a fix at all, just an improvement in the relationship between mother and son, better, more understanding and loving responses on my part to his emotional meltdowns and loud demands, a development of self-control, patient endurance, and godliness in this mother, who can then model those things for her kids, and maybe help them more easily believe in Jesus.