I posted the following as a comment on Scott's blog in response to Bill Colrus giving up his blog, Right to the Chin, but thought it'd make a decent entry in it's own right, and in an effort to superficially overinflate the number of blogs entries in a given week, thought I'd cheat:
I completely agree with Bill that one of the downsides of blogging is that we have a tendency to be more adversarial online than in face to face conversation, and I think we must guard ourselves against allowing ourselves to hide behind the impersonal nature of the online world in order to take stabs at people we would not do otherwise.
Having said that, two of Bill's reasons not to blog are exactly reasons I have a desire to blog and to blog surf. He says he prefers to communicate in person. That's great, but as a stay home mom, that opportunity does not present itself readily to me, at least not without constant interruption to adult conversation. Blogging/online activity allows me to both fulfill my duties as a mom and satisfy my craving for conversation that doesn't involve the word "poop".
The other is that he has other outlets for writing. I don't. Not really. Not the way that I did when I was in school. I think back to how much I grew and learned through the process of writing, particularly as an Eng major in college, and I miss that challenge. Writing helps me think through and organize thoughts in a way that nothing else does, and blogging provides an outlet for it.
Another thing that blogging provides is a way to get to know/keep up with/dialog with people who are out of town/state. I like the fact that the online communities that I am involved in allow me to maintain relationships with friends and relatives I don't see often.
I just finished working my way through the book of Joshua again, and one of the things that really struck me this time was the significance of rocks, not only in Joshua, but throughout Scripture. I've always appreciated the way that God frequently gives His people markers, memorials, ebenezers, to help them remember the things he has taught them. Frequently those memorials are rocks or altars of some sort, and this is particularly true in Joshua. When the Israelites cross the Jordan, God commands them to take 12 stones (large enough that they are told to take them upon their shoulders) from the middle of the Jordan and build a memorial so that the children of Israel will see it and ask their parents why it is there, providing the opportunity for the story to be recounted to them of God's miraculous deeds. In the last chapters, Joshua prepares the people for his death by reminding them of all that God has done for them, and reiterates to them God's promises and warnings. He then sets up a large stone altar as a witness that the people have declared their intention to serve the Lord. I could not help but think of Jesus' words when the Pharisees tell Jesus to rebuke his disciples for crying out to praise him. He responds in Luke 19:40, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out." I fully believe that the earth itself could and would cry out in praise of it's King if God so ordered it, and I don't mean to take away from the reality of that possibility of the meaning of Christ's words. But I also wonder about the possibility that Jesus' words to this primarily Jewish crowd were meant to bring to their minds the many stones which could be found throughout their nation as memorials to the miraculous deeds of the Lord. The reference would, by it's very nature, testify to His authority and deity. It would, in actuality, testify that He was more than man, but was in fact God. The same God who brought His people out of Egypt and delivered them into the promised land. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, now become flesh and dwelling among his people, just as he promised, for the purpose of providing a single, final atonement on their behalf.
The continuity of the Scriptures is incredible. The amazing fact that the more I read the Old Testament, the more obvious it becomes that the gospel is absolutely evident from Genesis to revelation. God's plan to redeem his people through the person of Jesus Christ was not something he thought of after everything went wrong. It was the plan He already had from the beginning of time to reveal His character and glorify His name. What an awesome priviledge to be able to say that I, a nobody, am part of that plan.
Noah is my baby. Well, he's two and a half, but he's my baby. It's amusing to me that I can even say that, because it has always been a major pet peeve of mine when people call their children "baby" past the ripe old age of one. And frankly, for me, I never really had the opportunity to do so with the other kids. With my other four children, by the time they hit the ripe old age of one, there was another baby on the way. So, by default, they were no longer "the baby". But now, 2 years post-vasectomy, Stephen and I both have a very real sense of the fact that we no longer have (for the first time in nine years) a baby in the house, and it's sort of sad. I enjoy babies. Now there is a time between 12 and 18 months where they seem to hit this "I know what I want but don't have the vocabulary to communicate it" slump that isn't always fun. We overcame that a bit with sign language, but truthfully, not all kids take to it the way some do, and you just have to grit your teeth and get through it. But sometime between 2 and 2 1/2 they start to communicate better and get frustrated less and they just get really darn cute. Somehow even the most mundane things sound so adorable out of the mouth of a toddler. And Noah is remarkably good at hamming it up, too. I find more and more lately that I am reluctant to put him to bed at night, for want of prolonging his toddlerhood in some way. He often finds his way to my bed and falls asleep while we're doing family devotions in the evening, and I love to take the time just to watch him sleep. I will miss those squishy little toddler hands when we no longer have them around. They grow up and get calloused from monkey bars and life, and they lose that carrot shape they have about the fingers. His little eyes have the perfect shape and the depth of their blue is magical. His cheeks are so soft and round when I kiss them. It takes almost his whole arm span to reach around my neck, and it just feels so good.
I think one of the most frustrating things about having a large family is feeling like I am often so tired and busy from trying to be five people at once that I forget to appreciate my kids for just being kids. I feel a constant tension between looking forward to watching my kids grow up, and not wanting them to change. I feel overwhelmed with the responsibility of trying to raise five children, and lose the sense of wonder of having five children. I want to get all the things done that need to be done, but I also don't want to miss their childhood because of my business. I don't want to wake up one morning and realize that they all have grown and I was too busy or tired to notice.
In the meantime, I'm trying to take every opportunity to kiss each of those carrot shaped little fingers while they're still chubby.
I know it's pathetic. But last night at 9 pm a great sadness hit me. The intrigue of Desperate Housewives is gone for me. And as much as I enjoy Denny Crane, Boston Public is just not sucking me in. I was pondering what it is about Alias that I find so addictive. I think it comes down to two main things, packaged in good characters and good writing: 1) I love the Rimbaldi element. There is no way I could expain it all here and now, so either you know what I'm talking about or you don't. But the aspect of the show which involves piecing together the Rimbaldi artifacts and trying to figure out how they fit into the whole scheme of things is so intriguing. It's the same sort of thing that I loved about the Indiana Jones trilogy. And it's one of the many things I love about Bible study. I love discovering how all the various trees fit the forest. It's a science and math puzzle with a mystical element. Except for that one scene with Sloane and the green goo. . . Anyway, 2) is not nearly so cerebral. It's ADRENALINE. That's it. I'm addicted to the adrenaline rush. While my job has eternal significance and earthly importance, there's just not much adrenaline involved in folding laundry and changing diapers. Stephen was watching Mon night football while I was reading in bed, and a new truck commercial caught my attention. It's a "testimony" from a guy who was a victim of "adrenalinitis", who nearly died from lack of adrenaline until a friend recommended his new truck. Saved his life. *wipe tear here* I got really tickled, cause it kind of identified that empty feeling of Sundays at 9, adrenalinitis. Plus it reminded me of the worst Alias line of all three seasons so far: "Vaughn, quick! The F-150!"
Alas. . .only a few months to go. . . ;)
Stephen and Ethan are at LeConte Lodge with my dad and David Marr, so I decided to take the other four kids and drive to Atlanta to see my newest nephew, Isaac. I was a little nervous about such an undertaking, since getting in a closed vehicle for more than 20 min with 4 kids under the age of 7 is just not my idea of a good time, but since last time Stephen and Ethan went backpacking Lynn and I took my other four and her one to Florida, I figured I could handle it. It went quite well, other than Joseph and Sam having the "get your feet off my side" argument for about 45 min. Noah is not a big fan of the car seat these days, but after a couple of requests to "sleep yours house, Mommy", he nodded off. Syd was, oddly enough, the last one to fall asleep coming home and the only one who did not nap on the way down.
Isaac is precious (and much cuter in person than in pics, IMO) and is so far proving to be quite the second baby blessing. He's content, happy just to lie quietly and study the ceiling fan whenever it's not time to eat or sleep. Gideon is a bit sluggish. The time change and new baby hit him all at once, and it was obvious in his demeanor. He is still a remarkably well behaved, adorable kid, but I saw more defiance in him today than I ever have (which is still very little), and he just wasn't his usual chipper self. His little world has been turned upside down and it's just going to take a while to adjust.
Sydney is as enamoured as ever with her dear uncle Andy, and as we drove off Sam said, "Man, Andy is such a cool uncle. I love his inventions." Andy spent the afternoon taking the kids for walks, playing in the yard and teaching them to build some really cool paper airplanes, which Sam was quite successful at flying. i am convinced that if I could talk Andy into giving up this whole PhD thing and just homeschooling Sam for me, ADHD would no longer be an issue. Noah terrorized Bela (the cat), and Joseph adjusted to Bela's presence well.
All in all, it was a pleasant visit, though I am now thoroughly exhausted, which means maybe I'll be able to sleep tonight in spite of the empty place next to me in the bed.
I managed to go vote with my three youngest kids in tow, in spite of the fact that for some strange reason they still had me registered under my maiden name. Mom couldn't keep the kids since she's in Atlanta with my sister Lynn who had baby Isaac Immanuel on Sunday. I was a little concerned this morning about taking the kids with me, especially since Joseph woke up really cranky, but they all did fine. It helped that our precinct votes in the fire hall, so Joseph and Noah were both pretty captivated by our surroundings. They both emerged more than adequately covered with "I'm a Georgia voter" stickers, too. Sydney was fascinated by the entire process. We got in the car to leave and she said, "When will the tv announce that George Bush won, I mean, when will they announce who won?"