Welcome to my blog! I am a wife and mom from Pennsylvania who also happens to write. I have been writing for 25 years, fourteen of those for smalltown newspapers in rural Pennsylvania and upstate New York. I'm a homeschool mom, a cozy mystery writer, a photographer, a wife, and a mom of two. I blog a little bit about a lot of things here on the blog. You can also find me on Instagram.
I’ve been sharing little stories on my personal Facebook page about our new puppy Zooma from her perspective and thought I’d start sharing them on the blog as well because I think Zooma would think “it’s hilarious.”
May 3, 2018
This morning I woke daddy up at 6 a.m. by licking his face all over with my tongue.
Mommy says my tongue feels like wet air because it’s so tiny.
Daddy wasn’t very happy with being woke up but took me into the backyard so I could do my potty time.
Back inside Daddy wanted me to go back to sleep but I knew it was time to explore, lick, dig, run and slide across the floor and then chase that big, fat, black and furry thing with the sharp things on her feet. It’s fun trying to see how close I can get to her before she tries to claw my tiny eyes out.
I spent the morning listening to Daddy grumble about how tired he was and how much he needed something called coffee and then I ran up the stairs to find Mommy and my playthings.
One of them likes to squeal and scream when I nip at it’s legs. It’s hilarious. The other one shouts “No! No, Zooma! No!” Also hilarious.
When the taller Plaything took me in the backyard for another potty time I found fur and some squishy stuff that tasted good and was fun to roll in.
This resulted in Plaything One flailing and screaming and chasing me around the yard yelling “That’s so gross! Drop it! It’s a dead bunny! Oh my gosh! Zooooommmaaa!”
Plaything One stole my treat and it was back in the house to chase big, fat black beast again while Daddy staggered around with a cup of that coffee stuff and a scowl and then left to clean up the fur and squishy stuff so I couldn’t have it anymore. I heard him tell Mommy he felt awful because he’d apparently run over a bunny nest with the lawn mower. I hope he does that again. That treat was fun and tasty.
I spent the rest of my day napping off and on, because I’m just a baby and I like to sleep, with a few moments of ripping paper and dragging it around the house in between while Mommy and the Playthings tell me to “Drop it. Drop it. Droooooooop it.”
Recently I didn’t have any models for my stock photography so I decided to make myself a model, as uncomfortable as I was with that idea. I plopped myself in front of the camera with my intention to capture only my hands holding my Bible or at least being able to crop it that way.
But when I looked at my arms in the photos I thought “Oh gosh. I’m so fat. I can’t believe how fat I’ve gotten.”
And it’s true.
I’m fat.
Partially from poor decisions and partially from auto immune conditions I can’t seem to get a handle on. Five years ago I lost 30 pounds in three months and I’ve only recently re-started the lifestyle change that helped me get there, so we’ll see how this latest journey goes, but until then, I’m just fat. Not running myself down. It’s just where I am. Not big boned. Just fat.
Many of the photos in the Christian stock agency I submit to feature young, skinny women reading their Bibles, I guess because the idea is that only young, in shape women need God. Of course I know the photographers or stock agencies aren’t really thinking that when they take or approve the photos but the thought is there, subconsciously, even in my own mind: fat women don’t sell.
We just don’t. Right?
But guess, what, maybe we do because not every woman out there is a size four. Some of us are struggling and we may know we need to lose the weight but no matter what we do it isn’t working. Maybe it’s a medical issue blocking the weight loss or maybe it’s emotional pain but either way losing the weight is a battle and we are in the middle of it.
And what I thought when I saw those photos, after the initial depression and decision that I wouldn’t submit the images, “well, even fat moms read the Bible.”
Though the agency I work with is fairly diverse and offering a few more photos of the old and the fat, I don’t know if some in the Christian advertising world have caught on yet. So many are focused on catering to the Millenials, they’ve forgotten that there are a huge segment of Christians who don’t know what a Instagram is. There is also a segment (notice I left out the word “huge” here) of Christians who are struggling with their appearance in a world where they are told constantly they are only worthy if they shop a certain place, wear a certain size or have a certain amount of money.
This is where we are right now – us women who fight with our weight – and we need to read that Bible as much as the 21-year old skinny girl does. That 21-year old blond may look like she has it all together but she’s in need of a savior as much as the fat mom who cries in the closet with a pint of Haagen-daz when she looks at photos of herself. The only difference is the fat mom may find a bit more judgement because of how she looks and how she has “let herself go.”
Christ loves us no matter our size or what the world thinks of us, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that when a large majority of the Christian images we see in Christian or church publications are of young men or women wearing skinny jeans and hipster hats. Does the Kingdom belong only to the young and fashionable? I tend to think not.
While the youth of today may dismiss what they see as the old fashioned and out of touch ideas of the older generation, the older generation are also a driving force of the Kingdom.
And that younger generation will one day be the older generation and they will one day have to deal with the sagging chests and the expanding bottoms and, as author and speaker Lysa Terkurst says, the missing “thigh gap.”
No matter our size or our age we are all a part of the kingdom of God.
Maybe it is time the Christian advertising industry started to reflect that a little better.
When local farmer Scott Walrath recently told me farmers are stupidly in love with farming, I totally got it, maybe more than others who aren’t farmers would. For a long time I was in love with print journalism and now it, and farming, are two dying ways of life. I say ways of life because that is what both are. They are not occupations. They are something you live and breathe and that runs in your blood, dark like the ink in a press. .
In farming there is never a day off, always a cow to help birth or equipment to fix, or fields to work. In print journalism my brain was always working and thinking of the next story. Even if I was not at the office I seemed to always have my ears open to a tip or a feature story idea. Every person I met or place I visited had the potential of a news story or art for the front page. Art, in newspaper lingo, is essentially a main photo to anchor the front page and grab the readers attention so hopefully they will buy the paper.
More and more today, though, people aren’t buying the newspaper and even if they were, the paper to produce the newspaper is so expensive many papers are either raising prices or laying off employees.
New tarrifs on newsprint coming into the United States have raised prices more than 50 percent in some cases. The increase in expenses is leading some papers to drop the size of their papers down as they try to balance the decrease in demand, the rising prices and the difficulty with employing a staff. Small, privately owned newspapers, much like small, family owned farms, are being hit the hardest by the changes.
I find myself trying hard not to think about a world without a physical newspaper to hold in my hand, one where scrolling on a computer or phone replaces the turning of the page. One where we no longer close our eyes and smell the ink, for me the smell of stories yet to be told. Similarly my brain often fights to silence the thoughts and frightening visions of empty barns dotting rural Pennsylvania’s landscapes of open fields, filled with corn or wheat or simply lush green.
Ah, those dying ways of life that a few of us still fight for, maybe because we are stupid, maybe because we are stuck in the “good ole’ days” or maybe because it runs in our blood and we can’t imagine doing anything else.
When I walked out of my room and into my son’s , which has more accessible windows than mine, and saw the snow on the ground I’ll admit I wanted to cry. This year it’s seemed that spring will never come. The days have been cold and gloomy and wet. I honestly thought that by now I’d be writing about bright, sunny, warm days filled with fun with my children. Luckily, despite the lack of warmth and sun, the children and I have been able to squeeze in some fun and even a few beams of sunlight.
Since we started homeschooling my son a couple of weeks ago we’ve had more time for family outings and excursions and have done a couple in between school work. We visited the farm of some friends of mine as part of my farm awareness project and not only did it give us some much needed fresh air, but it also opened our eyes even more to the hard work of local farmers and the current challenges facing them.
The other day we thought we’d venture out to a baseball game, despite cold weather being forecast, and try to catch Tim Tebow who is playing with our local Double AA team, about an hour from our house. It literally snowed during the game. That’s how cold it was. And to top it off, Tebow never even took the field, but I did manage to grab a shot of him “slapping five” or whatever players do at the end of the game.
This week we are supposed to have warmer weather but I will believe it when I feel it.
This post is part of a 10 on 10 blog circle with a group of other photographers. Each month we post 10 photos from our previous month, from either one day, or throughout the month, to share in a blog post on the tenth day of the month. To continue the circle, click on the link at the bottom of this post.
When I saw the notification on my smartphone screen and read the first few words I knew the message wasn’t going to be a fun one to read. I dreaded opening that message and maybe I should have ignored it, but instead I decided to bite the bullet and read a scolding I had expected to come in the form of a phone call instead.
The words on the page were a surprise to me, full of accusations I hadn’t expected. In the past an encounter like this would have sent me spiraling into a deep depression and a long period of self doubt. The fact I cried uncontrollably for two hours, versus four, and only flew off into a rage-induced rant twice after the incident is something I count as progress, even if others wouldn’t.
And the fact I never even answered the person, but instead deleted the message and blocked them from my social media so I could regroup and cool down? That’s a complete about turn from my reactions of the past.
There I was, reading something written to me by someone who was hurt and had misunderstood, and I found my emotions mixed. My first reaction was the familiar anger that sets in when I feel as if I am being attacked. Then I felt sad and like I had done something wrong. I wanted to gush out an admission of my guilt, like I usually do, even though I knew at least one thing they were upset by was a complete misunderstanding.
This time, though, the anger, depression and guilt was soon replaced with a sense of unexpected calm and a feeling that what was said wasn’t going to change my mind about the decision made.While I once would doubt a decision, or even change it, based on criticism from someone, this time I didn’t let my resolve waiver. I knew what we had done was in the best interest of our family and I wasn’t going to let that decision be shaken by what someone else thought of me.
It isn’t that I am unwilling to admit my wrong in a situation, but I’ve spent far too much of my life believing I need to change who I am, or the decisions I’ve made, based on the opinions of someone else.
It’s definitely hard when we feel the judgments of others and know that somewhere out in the universe is someone who isn’t a fan of us. But in reality it doesn’t matter if other humans aren’t our fans. We all know we aren’t perfect and that the only opinion that really matters is the opinion of The One who created us.
To be able to see progress within ourselves is so satisfying, even when we know we have so much more to learn and so many more positive changes to make. Most of us are never satisfied with who we are. We often think we’ll never improve, or bid farewell to some of our more annoying character flaws.
We won’t change or improve overnight. God knows this. He only wants us to take steps, small ones even, to become more like Him.
“Becoming like Christ is a long, slow process of growth,” pastor and author Rick Warren says. “Spiritual maturity is neither instant nor automatic; it is a gradual, progressive development that will take the rest of your life.”
Paul wrote often about the process of becoming like Christ, knowing that we will stumble and fall, just at the disciples did, even as they walked with Christ on Earth.
Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead.
Philippians 3:13-14
We often look ahead at how far we have to go in our journey, but we rarely look back and see how far we’ve come. While we don’t want to dwell on the past, it doesn’t hurt to recognize the progress we have made along our journey.
Maybe we aren’t where we want to be, but if we are making small steps toward improvement, then we should acknowledge the progress, no matter how small.
The little boy was leaning nonchalantly against the door, with one hand on the door knob and when we jumped out of the van he said into the cold wind that whipped at our faces, sounding more like an adult than a child,“Welcome to our farm. Come on in.”
I smiled to myself at the sound of such serious, grown up words coming from someone so young and thanked him for the greeting. We stepped into a small, dark room filled almost completely by a large metal container, pipes running along the ceiling and walls, and a deep, metal sink at the back of the room. A small fluorescent light barely lit the room but a small window provided a little daylight.
I had started a personal photography project and series about small, family farms in Bradford County, Pa. and this was the first farm I had visited. The boy, wearing a winter coat and a knitted winter hat down over his ears, launched immediately into a tour of the barn, starting by showing my 11-year old son the nozzle where the milk truck driver would put the hose to siphon the farm’s milk collection from the refrigerated container into the milk truck. He motioned his hand up in the air along the path of the pipe system, showing us where the milk comes into the room and travels down into a clear sphere and then down another pipe and into the main collection vat.
Next he motioned us toward a door to our left and into the barn where he said his dad was feeding the cows. Cows were lined up in two rows, each in their own stall, ready to be fed and milked. They turned to watch us walk in and almost seemed to be listening to our young tour guide.
Before I could ask the boy his name or how old he was, he had a handful of the cow’s feed in his hand and began telling us it was made up of ground corn and hay and other nutrients. A man with salt and pepper hair and mustache, wearing a pair of faded blue overalls, pushed a wheelbarrow full of feed toward us and smiled at the boy and us. “He’s giving you the tour, huh?” He asked.
I said he was and doing a good job.
I finally was able to slip in between his explaining how the farm works to ask him how old he was and his name. His name was Parker, he said, and was six. When I asked how he knew all about the feed and the barn and the cows and milk, he said “I just do.”
Of course I know why he knows all he does. He is the son and grandson of farmers. Each day he watches the men who have shaped who he is and who he will become work hard for the life they want and they life they need. They work not only to survive, but to thrive.
His grandfather and dad milk the cows, care for the cows, feed the cows and they run the tractors, cut the hay, grind the corn and clean the barn. He is a boy being taught that to get what you want in life, whether that be a peaceful life on a small farm in rural Pennsylvania, or a life full of adventure and thrill, there must be some blood, sweat and tears shed. To reach a goal you work and you work hard.
It’s something his dad Mark knows a lot about. He thought he’d find his dream at college, but it was there he realized he had been living his dream all along on his family’s farm, right where he grew up. After he earned a degree he returned to the farm, the quiet, the tough life but the rewarding one that maybe he thought he never needed or wanted. Isn’t that how it is for a lot of us? We think we want something different from where we are and what we have when really, all we ever needed could be found right where we’d always been and among what we’d always had.
And sometimes we realize that what we want to do in life isn’t what will bring us monetary riches, but will bring us riches of the soul.
“Honestly, it is a labor of love,” Mark Bradley said. “I love working with the cows, and I love working the land. It is not a job. It’s a lifestyle. There are always bad days, but I can’t see myself doing anything else.”
It’s not a job.
It’s a lifestyle.
It’s a labor love.
So much of what we do that really matters is just that – a labor of love – work that might not light up our pocketbook but will light a spark in our spirit. And from that spark will come a fire that will burn through all the distractions of life and leave for us a clear picture of what is good and right and perfect about this thing we call living.
We were in the midst of an arctic cold snap back in January when a friend of mine shared a post on Facebook about farming written by a farmer friend of hers. The post ended up going a bit viral. I contacted the author, second generation dairy farmer Mark Bradley, of Sayre, Pa., as soon as I saw the post and asked him if I could come photograph him at the farm one day. He kindly agreed. This is the post that caught the attention of me and others:
“I stepped outside this morning to be greeted by negative whatever it is, plus a vicious wind. I knew before even stepping in the barn that it was going to be a rough one. It was a nice 34 degrees in the middle of the barn, but colder along the northwest corner. We got the cows all fed, I thawed out a couple water bowls, then started milking. As I was putting a milker on Hershey, this cow Candy turned around and put her soft warm muzzle alongside my cheek and in my neck. She loves to give kisses and get hugs, and she knew I needed a hug now more than ever.
photo by Mark Bradley Photo by Mark Bradley
I wrapped my arms around her soft head and with tears in my eyes, gave her a big hug. Sometimes it just hits you…the reality of the responsibility of being a farmer. It doesn’t matter how cold it is, how crappy it is, how sick you are, or how tired you are. Good day or bad, our cows count on us to take care of them, and we do whatever it takes to keep them happy. Dad and I milk around 50 cows, and have another 50 or so of youngstock. So over 100 animals ranging in age from a few hours old ( yes I had one born last night) to over 9 years old count on us everyday. Just dad and I. No hired hands, no substitutes…
I’m not complaining, I’m not looking for sympathy or a pat on the back… I’m just trying to help people understand the commitment that farmers have to the animals they love. Buy milk, buy cheese, buy yogurt, buy anything dairy… if your kids don’t like white milk, buy chocolate. It’s still better for them than soda or sports drinks…stay warm. I’ll be outside thawing out the frost free waterer that is not supposed to freeze.”
Thank you to Mark for letting my kids and I visit his farm and for answering some questions about his lifestyle and dairy farming in Bradford County, Pa. He has also been gracious enough to agree to be part of my personal photo project focusing on dairy farms in Bradford County. If you are a farmer, or know someone who is, and would like to be part of this series, aimed at bringing awareness and appreciative attention to farmers in our communities, please contact me via my contact form on this site or at lisahoweler@gmail.com
Tell us a little about yourself… where your from originally, your family, hobbies, etc.
“I was born in Sayre and raised on the farm that my father and I operate. My parents bought the farm in 1979 (a year before I was born), so I am the second generation to run the farm. My father’s grandfather had a small dairy farm just up the road from where he grew up a few miles from our farm, so his interest in farming was gained at a young age. My wife Nichole and I have been married 12 years, and together we have a 6 year old son (Parker) and 3 year old daughter (Lexi) who both love the farm. In my spare time I enjoy taking Parker hunting, fishing, woodworking, and fixing old tractors. “
How long have you been farming? How did you become involved in it?
“I’ve been involved with the farm my whole life. From a young age I would help out with whatever chores I could. I’ve always loved being around the cows, and as I got a little older I was able to drive tractors and run the machinery helping out with the field work. I didn’t always see myself coming back to the farm… after high school I went to college with the intention of becoming a teacher. It was the first time I had ever really been away from the farm.
I came home every weekend to work on the farm, and I dreaded going back to college every Sunday night. Just over a year into college I began to realize that my heart was in farming, and that’s what I wanted to do. I changed my major from secondary education and finished in 4 years with degrees in physics and geology. After graduating, Dad and I formed a formal partnership, and this spring will be 15 years operating together.
What is the main focus of your farm?
Dairy is the main focus of our farm. We milk around 50 cows which produce about 200 gallons of milk a day. We raise all our heifer (female) calves, so we have around 100 total. We grow and harvest almost all our feed on 225 owned and rented acres.
Considering the hardships farmers face in the United States especially, what keeps you from giving up on farming?
Honestly, it is a labor of love. I love working with the cows, and I love working the land. It is not a job, it’s a lifestyle. There are always bad days, but I can’t see myself doing anything else.
What do you think the future holds for farming in the United States?
The future of dairy farming in this country is worrisome. Small family farms like ours are disappearing at an alarming rate. Farms are becoming bigger with more cows, and are run like a factory with many employees and shifts. They are still producing good quality milk, but the cozy small farm where the cows have names and the farmers care for them and know them like pets is going by the wayside.
What is the best part of your farming life?
The absolute best part is sharing the farm life with my kids. They see what I do and are eager to help. They understand where their milk and meat come from and they know how hard we work to put it on the table. My heart melts when they go on and on at the dinner table about how good their milk is, and talk about which cow it might have come from.
Aside from raising our kids on the farm, my other favorite thing is working so closely with nature. There is something so amazing about helping a calf to be born, then raising that calf into mature milking cow. The same can be said for planting seeds and harvesting the crops.
What is the hardest part of your farming life?
This is a tough one to answer… I would have to say the disappointments. I had an old farmer tell me one time that it’s human nature to want to be in control, but it’s God that is in control, and we have to trust in him. I tell myself that whenever something happens that is out of my control.
You can put your heart and soul into getting a crop planted, only to have a drought or have a torrential rain that ruins it. Your favorite cow can get sick and despite your best efforts you may lose her. Machinery breaks at times when you need it the most. Cows go into labor at the most inconvenient times. Dinners are missed because something requires immediate attention. When I get sick, no matter how bad I feel, I still have to get up and get the work done because all the cows are counting on me.
Anything you would like to add?
When I tell people I’m a farmer, most will respond with “that’s a hard life”. They are right. But it’s a good life. There is nothing more satisfying to me than being able to do what I love day in and day out. At the end of the road, it’s not about how much money you made, but about the quality of life you lived. I am so blessed.
Debby Frisk is a homeschooling mom from Athens, Pa. She is also simply a mom who cares about her children. She encourages other parents who want to homeschool their children, for various reasons, but don’t believe they can. I asked her if she would tell my readers a little about her journey in homeschooling and offer some advice for parents who might be considering this style of schooling for their children.
Photos by Lisa R. Howeler
Tell us a little bit about yourself, where you are from, your family, your interests. My name is Deb Frisk, married to Tim Frisk for 25 years, with 2 daughters, Elizabeth age 19, and Leah age 16. I’m originally from Ellwood City, PA. We moved to Bradford County upon finishing college. I enjoy reading, puzzles and games of all varieties, watching musicals, going on walks, cats, and spending time with my family.
What careers have you held or do you hold now? I was hired by Towanda Area School district in 1992 to teach math and work with the deaf and hard of hearing students in the district. I worked there for 6 years before starting our family. Since then I’ve mainly been raising our children and homeschooling, but have worked for short times as a sign language instructor and for Early Intervention.
You are a homeschooling mom. How did you get involved in homeschooling? Homeschooling was always on our radar as an educational option even before we had kids. Because I have a teaching degree, I was asked to perform homeschool evaluations for a few homeschooling friends of ours. I was impressed with the quality curricula that is available to homeschoolers and with the character and academic excellence I saw in the homeschooled children that I met.
When our first child was diagnosed with autism, we were strongly encouraged to enroll her in school to help with socialization. We listened to the experts and put her in a year of private preschool and a year of public school for K-4. Although she had fabulous teachers and aides in both places, it was obvious to us and her teachers that school was not a suitable environment for her to learn, so the decision was made to bring her home for kindergarten.
We first enrolled her in a cyber charter school, which is public school done in the comfort of your own home. This worked well for us for several years, but whens he reached middle school, it became cumbersome to jump through all of the hoops that the school set before us and the decision was made to begin pure homeschooling.
What is your advice to parents who are considering homeschooling? I have a lot to say to people who are considering homeschooling. The first thing is that you CAN do it. You do not need a teaching degree to be a good teacher to your own children. Research has shown that parents without a teaching degree are just as successful as those with one. The next important thing to know is that there is no one right way to homeschool. It looks different for every family. Sometimes it takes a year or two (or three) to figure out what works and doesn’t work for your family. It’s good to talk to other families and see what they like and what works for them, but trying to copy others will likely make you unhappy. Do what’s best for your family. Next I’d suggest that you try to connect with other homeschoolers. Some people desire a lot of support others do it all on their own. There’s no right or wrong amount of connection either, but initially it’s good to talk to others to get ideas and to look at curriculum. Pennsylvania has an amazing homeschool convention in early June in Lancaster that I strongly recommend.
It’s a good place to attend seminars on homeschooling, pickup curriculum and examine it, possibly purchase some materials, and begin to network with others who’ve been-there-done-that. My personal preference on curriculum is to buy used, sell used. This keeps cost to a minimum for us. There are several different places where you can do this — used curriculum sales in your area and online sales being the main ways.
Do you have suggestions for resources or web sites where parents can learn more about homeschooling? For PA residents, my favorite resource is askpauline.com For anyone in the United States, I’d recommend hslda.org These 2 resources are great for telling you your state’s requirements for getting started and other required record-keeping.
Many use ebay for curriculum shopping, but my favorite is homeschoolclassifieds.com. I also use the Facebook group Homeschool Curriculum Marketplace.
There are probably hundreds or thousands of other quality websites to learn about homeschooling. I just don’t have specific recommendations.
What does homeschooling look like at your house? Homeschooling looks different for every family. Some people do school at home, copying what they’ve experienced in the classroom. Some people use a variety of materials including textbooks, workbooks, instructional DVDs, computer programs, field trips, hands-on projects and experiments, etc. While still others throw out conventional methods of learning and just follow their child(ren)’s interests and explore the world with them. One thing that we always say about our schooling is that the only subject that’s ever done at a desk or table is handwriting. Often you’ll find us curled up on the couch or in a bed reading together or alone. We use clipboards a lot when writing needs to be done.
We’re pretty eclectic meaning that we use a wide variety of resources for our learning. I prefer literature based curriculum. Usually whatever books the girls are reading for literature is related to the same topics they’re reading about in history. For some subjects my girls rely pretty heavily on traditional textbooks. In recent years we’ve moved towards instructional DVDs for some high school topics like chemistry and writing. They’ve both used computer programs for learning foreign languages.
I have one child who enjoys art, drama, and dance and we use a lot of outside lessons to provide instruction in those areas since that is not my area of strength. I also should add that what works for one child often is not appropriate for another. My girls have very different learning styles and strengths. I’ve often used totally different curriculum to cover the same subject material for them.
Some people have found that having a schedule is necessary for school work to be completed in their home. We’ve found that our girls work best when they can choose the order of their subjects and when they work on them. My only rule is that the assigned work needs to get done each day (though exceptions to the rule do happen). The girls have learned very good time management and planning skills. For example they’ve learned that it’s not wise to save their hardest subject for late in the day. One of my children likes to get up and get all of her work done as quickly as possible in order to be free for the rest of the day. This works really well for her. My other child does a subject and takes a break, does another, then takes a break. School takes her all day, but the result is the same at the end of the day and Mom is happy.
What do you like most and what’s the hardest part about homeschooling?
The answer to these questions is the same — Time spent with my children. I love the amount of time that I get to spend with my kids. I know them inside and out because we spend so much time together. I love being part of what they’re learning. We tried public school for a year or two with each of my girls and I really hated not being involved in what they were learning. I love being able to tie what they’re learning into everyday life, but if you don’t know what they’re learning in school, you’re not able to do that. I think my absolute favorite part of homeschooling ever was teaching them to read. I will be honest though. As much as I love spending time with my kids, there is never a break. When they were younger, sometimes they would be the only people I’d see for days at a time. It’s easier when they’re older and do activities on their own and aren’t always in the house, but the younger years were sometimes tough, but just sometimes. Mostly the time is a gift and I try to enjoy every moment of it. Oh, another perk for us is taking family vacations during the off-season. The crowds at most places are lowest in September right after all the kids go back to school. It’s the perfect time for us to hit the road. The same is true for any kind of activity or field trip. My kids have never been to Chuck E Cheese on a weekend.
What misconceptions do you think people have about homeschooling? The most common thing I hear when I tell someone that we homeschool — “Oh, I’m not against homeschooling or anything, but I just worry about socialization.” There are always exceptions, but I think it’s fair to say that most homeschoolers are better socialized then their public school counterparts. Most homeschoolers joke that we don’t know why it’s called home schooling because it sometimes feels like we’re never home. First of all, because we spend so much time with our kids, homeschool parents have lots of opportunities to train them on how to interact with people. Homeschooled kids as a group are extremely respectful and courteous. We attend a lot of group events (like roller skating, bowling, play practice, science fairs, and field trips) with other homeschoolers.
This gives our kids a chance to interact with other kids, but not just their age peers; they become comfortable with kids of all ages. Our kids spend more time in their communities than their public school peers. They go with their parents EVERYWHERE. They go shopping with us, to the dentist, to the post office, the gas station, you name it. They become very proficient and comfortable interacting with adults, not just other children at a young age. And like public school kids, you’ll find us participating in other things in our communities such as soccer, swimming, Little League, dance class, art class, piano lessons and recitals, etc.
The ultrasound technician told me he couldn’t see a baby, a heartbeat, anything that should have been there at 12 weeks gestation. I didn’t know what this meant, imagining that somehow we had been off on our dates and it was too early to see anything in an ultrasound, but then again, I knew we couldn’t be that far off our dates.
The midwife told me I had a blighted ovum, or an empty gestational sac, which happens when a pregnancy doesn’t progress beyond the formation of the egg and it attaching to the uterus. A positive pregnancy test shows a pregnancy is underway but often a woman will not get any of the pregnancy symptoms a woman would if the pregnancy was viable. Sometimes, though, she’ll still get these symptoms and it isn’t until the ultrasound that she knows there is no baby and there will won’t be a baby.
No one seems to know why this happens but, from what I’ve read and been told, it is a fairly common occurrence and women should have no problem getting pregnant after a blighted ovum.
It was a wait and see game after that first ultrasound but I was told by the midwife that most likely I would begin to miscarry in a few days. It was about two days after the ultrasound when my body spontaneously began to miscarry. I was one of the lucky ones. Many women have to undergo a procedure where the contents of their uturus are surgically removed. I was relieved when the miscarriage started naturally. The entire situation was so surreal I’m not even sure I can say I was upset by any of it. In the months before I had been under tremendous stress from a family situation and by this point my brain seemed to have gone into a protective lock down mode. I felt emotionally numb by the time the bleeding began.
Since my experience I’ve read many stories about women with either a blighted ovum or very early miscarriages and many times these women seem unsure they have the right to grieve, since their baby never fully formed or passed away at such an early part of the pregnancy. Because I had the same internal dialogue, I can very much relate to this line of thinking.
It wasn’t lost on me at the time that I had suffered some sort of loss but it wasn’t until recently I began to deal with some of the feelings from that time, maybe because I became pregnant three months after my miscarriage with a little girl who is now asleep next to me for her afternoon nap. I was caught up in the fallout from a marriage crisis, the pregnancy and birth of a baby and then the adjustment of having a baby and 8-year old at home. Life rushed by and I never thought much about that previous loss until a couple of months ago when I paused and reflected on how numb I had felt that weekend I miscarried at home and never really let myself think about what could have been. There could have been five of us instead of four or maybe there never would have been because our youngest would simply be a few months older than she is now.
And then I thought about how I never gave myself time to grieve over the loss, which was devastating for our then 7-year old who had waited so long for a sibling. I cried some but never really gave myself time to feel sad.
I told myself the early miscarriage wasn’t worth being sad about. I had two friends at the time who had recently suffered late term losses and I knew that must be much more devastating to cope with. I had no right to cry when they had suffered so much more.
My mom and I both had children eight years apart, with a loss in between, and we both had our son first and daughter second. I know she knew what it was to lose, but I still felt my early loss wasn’t as serious. My mom had suffered a loss at seven months. She’d had toxemia and the baby was delivered prematurely, at a time when very little could be done to help babies delivered that early.
Then my Mom reminded me one day that our early miscarriage was a real loss because it was the loss of hope and the idea of what was going to be but then never was. And that’s what a pregnancy loss, no matter how early, is. And it isn’t only the loss of a pregnancy – it is the loss of an expected life.
Grieving this loss, even a very early one, is important. Make sure, no matter what, you find a way to let yourself grieve. I don’t mean you have to grieve publicly, wail in the streets or make all your friends listen to every detail while you sob into their shoulder, but find some way to grieve – either in the quiet of your room or the pages of your journal or sharing with a friend. Grieve in a way that makes you feel comfortable but grieve.
Don’t be afraid to show others that you hurt, for as long as you need. If people truly love you they’ll let you grieve and support you as long as you need them to. They’ll recognize that this is how you’re working through your thoughts and feelings about this season in your life. Those feelings are going to range from deep sadness to anger and denial to eventual acceptance. There may be times you aren’t even sure how you feel and maybe you’ll even feel nothing, like I did, for a very long time.
That’s ok and it’s normal and don’t let anyone tell you different. There is hope and healing, but it takes time, not a definitive amount, but a different amount for each person. Recognize and honor your own time table and accept that it may not be the same as someone else’s but also recognize and remember you are not alone, that there are so many other women who know what you’re going through.
One of them likes to squeal and scream when I nip at it’s legs. It’s hilarious. The other one shouts “No! No, Zooma! No!” Also hilarious.
This is where we are right now – us women who fight with our weight – and we need to read that Bible as much as the 21-year old skinny girl does. That 21-year old blond may look like she has it all together but she’s in need of a savior as much as the fat mom who cries in the closet with a pint of Haagen-daz when she looks at photos of herself. The only difference is the fat mom may find a bit more judgement because of how she looks and how she has “let herself go.”
While the youth of today may dismiss what they see as the old fashioned and out of touch ideas of the older generation, the older generation are also a driving force of the Kingdom.
In farming there is never a day off, always a cow to help birth or equipment to fix, or fields to work. In print journalism my brain was always working and thinking of the next story. Even if I was not at the office I seemed to always have my ears open to a tip or a feature story idea. Every person I met or place I visited had the potential of a news story or art for the front page. Art, in newspaper lingo, is essentially a main photo to anchor the front page and grab the readers attention so hopefully they will buy the paper.
I find myself trying hard not to think about a world without a physical newspaper to hold in my hand, one where scrolling on a computer or phone replaces the turning of the page. One where we no longer close our eyes and smell the ink, for me the smell of stories yet to be told. Similarly my brain often fights to silence the thoughts and frightening visions of empty barns dotting rural Pennsylvania’s landscapes of open fields, filled with corn or wheat or simply lush green.
When I saw the notification on my smartphone screen and read the first few words I knew the message wasn’t going to be a fun one to read. I dreaded opening that message and maybe I should have ignored it, but instead I decided to bite the bullet and read a scolding I had expected to come in the form of a phone call instead.
To be able to see progress within ourselves is so satisfying, even when we know we have so much more to learn and so many more positive changes to make. Most of us are never satisfied with who we are. We often think we’ll never improve, or bid farewell to some of our more annoying character flaws.
photo by Mark Bradley 
Photo by Mark Bradley
How long have you been farming? How did you become involved in it?
