It has been several weeks since I last posted. Gosh time flies! I have not been able to for several reasons:
1) For lent I drastically reduced my allotted online time each day. This is a habit I hope will extend far past Lent as it has been very fruitful for me, my prayer life, and my family! Not to mention the house is a little cleaner, too. I do not allow myself to get on the computer in the morning until I've spent time in prayer and unhurried meditation. I may get on just before dinner for a few minutes, but otherwise it waits until after the children go to bed and after my own night prayers are finished. If my husband is home, the computer time gets bumped even more. Keeping my computer off for most of the day has helped me to keep my priorities straight. I also find it easier to give undivided and undistracted attention to my children- to really soak up my time with them, instead of hurrying through reading them a book just so I can get back to my computer.
2) I went away for 4 days on a lovely Ignatian Spiritual Exercises (a silent retreat)...which meant I needed several days to prepare myself and my family for my departure, and about a week to recover my family who missed me while I was away.
3) Just when I thought I'd get a chance to blog, I was called as a doula for two births last week! One was on Wednesday, the other on Saturday. Both were amazing and wonderful experiences that left me praising God for the miracle of human life and of the birth process! I'm expecting another birth anytime this week. That will complete my 3 certification births, and I will be ready for the break to welcome our own bouncing baby in May. My children have loved hearing about each birth and seeing pictures of the baby whose birth I was blessed to witness.
So my online presence may have diminished, but my prayer life is stronger, my family feels cared for, my Labor Doula training is done, and my marriage has had a lot of quality nurturing time in the evenings when we're both home.
Please pray for me that I may continue to put God, and my service of Him through serving others, FIRST above online time and distractions, every day of my life!
Pray that I may learn the delicate balance of appropriate use of online time...to use it always for furthering Christ's Kingdom in some way, and never for my own personal laziness or avoidance of duties. Christ has a mission for me, my husband, and our family, and unless I arm myself with plenty of prayer and practice growing in virtue in my daily home life, I will surely fail.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Saturday, March 3, 2012
The Pondered Life
There is so much noise in today's world. And I'm not just speaking of the life of an adult. Children now are hurried from one activity to another, with noise constantly in their ears. Music, TV, games, rushing from place to place. And the question arises, what are we depriving our children of?
God speaks to us in the silence. I've heard it said that the world SCREAMS at us, and the Holy Spirit whispers. How can we hear the voice of God if we don't take the time to explore the silence? How will our children ever grow to appreciate the value of meditative prayer and silence if we fill their lives with constant noise now? How many children do you know that can really slow down, contemplate, reflect, observe, and grow as a human person?
The other day we packed our backpacks with nature journals, field guides, and a picnic, and discovered a lovely nearby pond we didn't know existed. No phones, no music, no friends to socialize with. It was just us. And what happened during that time is priceless.
We explored, walked, and soon discovered a peaceful place, a perfect place, a place that inspires quiet reflection, heart-to-heart conversation, quality time, and a whole lot of learning.
We observed the bark on a tree, the movement of the clouds across the sky (and the animals they resemble), the behavior of an earthworm, and were even visited by a friendly salamander.
But the most valuable lesson learned was in the silence.
Where life, and love, and the beauty of God's creation was contemplated, adored, studied, and each little soul was able to dig deep within themselves to find their Creator.
And I as mother was reminded of the importance of silence and personal reflection. As I breathed in the fresh crisp air, deep within my lungs, I felt renewed. Alive. Healed. As I watched each of my small innocent children discover for themselves the value of slowing down and reflecting, I found myself appreciating in them the beauty of God's creation of the human person, for He made us with a desire and an innate need to contemplate the Higher Things.
And have some laughs along the way (yes, my youngest IS trying to pull that root out of the ground).
In this treasured time, I fell in love with each of my children all over again.
And their hurried little hearts were able to heal in the stillness of that wonderful morning.
We are forever changed.
On the way home, as I listened to the repeated comments from the back about how much "fun" that was, and how "nice" it was, and "when can we go back?", I found myself reflecting on the real lesson that was learned that morning. We ventured out intending on discovering something interesting in nature to document in our nature journals, and instead we discovered something worth far greater: that of the importance of silence, stillness, calm, and meditation. More specifically, the importance of giving this great gift to my children when they are young. Because they might just grow up to be better and more well-rounded subjects of Christ's Kingdom if they have been allowed the time to do what every human truly desires...that of contemplating Higher Things.
Even secularly speaking, meditation is highly valued these days made evident by the yoga craze. How much more valuable, then, it is to give our children the opportunity to contemplate their life in reference to God. How much more they will learn about God's love for them. How much more they will grow as persons from touching base with their Father and Creator, their Savior and Redeemer, in the depths of Christian meditation.
So the greatest lesson we learned this week wasn't about bark, or worms, or salamanders. Rather, we rediscovered the importance of taking the time to ponder, to reflect, and to observe without distraction, without curriculum, without instruction. To really deeply and truly encounter the beauty that surrounds us.
You never know what you would otherwise be missing.
God speaks to us in the silence. I've heard it said that the world SCREAMS at us, and the Holy Spirit whispers. How can we hear the voice of God if we don't take the time to explore the silence? How will our children ever grow to appreciate the value of meditative prayer and silence if we fill their lives with constant noise now? How many children do you know that can really slow down, contemplate, reflect, observe, and grow as a human person?
The other day we packed our backpacks with nature journals, field guides, and a picnic, and discovered a lovely nearby pond we didn't know existed. No phones, no music, no friends to socialize with. It was just us. And what happened during that time is priceless.
We explored, walked, and soon discovered a peaceful place, a perfect place, a place that inspires quiet reflection, heart-to-heart conversation, quality time, and a whole lot of learning.
We observed the bark on a tree, the movement of the clouds across the sky (and the animals they resemble), the behavior of an earthworm, and were even visited by a friendly salamander.
But the most valuable lesson learned was in the silence.
Where life, and love, and the beauty of God's creation was contemplated, adored, studied, and each little soul was able to dig deep within themselves to find their Creator.
And I as mother was reminded of the importance of silence and personal reflection. As I breathed in the fresh crisp air, deep within my lungs, I felt renewed. Alive. Healed. As I watched each of my small innocent children discover for themselves the value of slowing down and reflecting, I found myself appreciating in them the beauty of God's creation of the human person, for He made us with a desire and an innate need to contemplate the Higher Things.
And have some laughs along the way (yes, my youngest IS trying to pull that root out of the ground).
In this treasured time, I fell in love with each of my children all over again.
And their hurried little hearts were able to heal in the stillness of that wonderful morning.
We are forever changed.
On the way home, as I listened to the repeated comments from the back about how much "fun" that was, and how "nice" it was, and "when can we go back?", I found myself reflecting on the real lesson that was learned that morning. We ventured out intending on discovering something interesting in nature to document in our nature journals, and instead we discovered something worth far greater: that of the importance of silence, stillness, calm, and meditation. More specifically, the importance of giving this great gift to my children when they are young. Because they might just grow up to be better and more well-rounded subjects of Christ's Kingdom if they have been allowed the time to do what every human truly desires...that of contemplating Higher Things.
Even secularly speaking, meditation is highly valued these days made evident by the yoga craze. How much more valuable, then, it is to give our children the opportunity to contemplate their life in reference to God. How much more they will learn about God's love for them. How much more they will grow as persons from touching base with their Father and Creator, their Savior and Redeemer, in the depths of Christian meditation.
So the greatest lesson we learned this week wasn't about bark, or worms, or salamanders. Rather, we rediscovered the importance of taking the time to ponder, to reflect, and to observe without distraction, without curriculum, without instruction. To really deeply and truly encounter the beauty that surrounds us.
You never know what you would otherwise be missing.
Labels:
children,
Creator,
God,
homeschooling,
lesson,
love,
meditation,
nature,
reflection
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