Pure Michigan!

Last week I visited "The UP" (Michigan Upper Peninsula) for the first time. Some friends of ours have a summer home in Manistique, and they invited us to join them for a few days. There was no arm-twisting required to get us to leave the Oven Formerly Known as Chicago for a short getaway.

This is our friends' house. They have worked all last summer and this summer updating it. Isn't it lovely? It is only a few blocks from Lake Michigan. When we arrived the first evening quite late, we could see the stars and hear the waves. The house has no air conditioning but the moderate UP climate, open windows, and fans in almost every room kept things comfortably cool. I almost felt like I was in Grenada again.

We enjoyed several activities during our stay. One day we went to see Kitch-iti-kipi. I'll let you click on the link to find out more, but here are a few pics from our visit.

A boat with a clear glass floor allows riders to look down and see the spring.

Evan and Caitlin waving from the boat dock.

Pretty girl.

Looking down through the viewing glass on the floor of the boat. The lighter colored area is due to the bubbling of the spring.

Trees reflected in the water.

Our hostess powering the boat.

Two peas in a pod.

Playground in the park at Kitch-iti-kipi. We did some swinging! Yes, that's me with the crazy hair.

And there's that pretty one again.

My own little--um, make that big--Dora the Explorer.

Later this same day we went to the boardwalk in Manistique and visited a nearby lighthouse.

Trevor is not pictured because he stayed behind to manage the homefront for us. Thanks, Trevor!

Look!

Our final outing was--of course!--a trip to the beach.

Back at the house and a little sunburned. It's hard to cover every spot with sunscreen!

What better way to wrap up a beach day than with some s'mores? Is that redundant?

As we sat, the bats came out and flew around our heads. You think I'm kidding.

Thank you, Paul, Elise and Evelyn, for your friendship and hospitality. You all rock. We'll be in touch about our return trip. :-)

In Search of Art, or "What the Heck is He Trying to Say, Anyway?"

Last year for literature, Caitlin and I started using this text:

Between our relaxed homeschool pace and several detours into other reading adventures, progress has been slow. We are just now starting the second section of the book, the one on "Beauty." It, like the other main three main sections of the book, begins with several excerpts from philosophical writings related to the section's dominant theme. For the "Beauty" section the excerpted writers are Leo Tolstoy, George Santayana, and John Dewey. The question at hand is, "What is art?" and, by extension, "What is beauty?" (assuming that man's pursuit of art goes hand-in-hand with his appreciation for that which is beautiful). I found this material to be quite challenging reading and decided to write a blog post as a means of helping me to process and summarize it. And you, my lucky readers, get to come along for the ride!

The excerpt by Tolstoy was by far the easiest to comprehend. It was taken from a long essay entitled, amazingly enough, "What is Art?" (The essay is available for purchase in book form.) For Tolstoy, art equals communication. The artist (who in Tolstoy's world is not an uppity guy in a beret but anyone with a story to tell) has something to share; when he successfully does so, that is art. In Tolstoy's words, "Art begins when one person with the object of joining another or others to himself in one and the same feeling expresses that feeling by certain external indications." He elaborates by saying what art is not. It is not "the manifestation of some mysterious Idea of beauty or God" or the release of "stored up energy" or the mere "production of pleasing objects"; it is, more than anything, the act of one who has experienced something using some medium to "infect" another person with that same experience; according to Tolstoy, "the stronger the infection, the better is the art." And since art is primarily about communication, it should only be concerned with communicating that which is worthwhile; according to Tolstoy, a Christian, the ancient Greeks are not worth studying since in their art they don't uphold Christian values. That which is most worthy of artistic communication is that to which the common man can relate and that in which he can find spiritual nourishment.

I found Santayana extremely difficult to follow, so if you're a Santayana geek, please feel free to correct me. Santayana was a materialist, so his emphasis is on the physicality of art. He does not think that humans have the capacity to go beyond the physical. (See his poem "On the Death of a Metaphysician.") He defines beauty as "pleasure objectified." There is a utilitarian element to his view of art as something that makes the rest of life bearable: "The appreciation of beauty and its embodiment in the arts are activities which belong to our holiday life, when we are redeemed for the moment from the shadow of evil and the slavery to fear, and are following the bent of our nature where it chooses to lead us." Because art is based in physical experience and every person with his individual identity and unique history experiences the world a little differently from every other person, art is therefore subjective. One person's experience of a work of art will be different from another's because of what each individual brings to the work. I think, then, that Santayana would disagree with Tolstoy's view of art being primarily about accurately communicating the artist's perception of something. He would see that as an impossible goal.

The last philosopher excerpted in our reading was John Dewey. It is a name I have come to highly distrust due to its association with lots of things that scare me--for example, progressive education, radicalism, pragmatism, and the importance of "socializing" the individual. But I appreciated a lot of what Dewey had to say about art. Here's a summary:

Art is first and foremost an experience. All of life is experience, but art is "AN experience" with a meaning that goes beyond the immediate.
Any subject matter is fair game for art. "The interest of the artist is the only limitation . . . . " (This specifically refutes both those that would say the proper subject matter of art is only that which lifts us above the common as well as those who, like Tolstoy, say art should only be concerned with the "everyday" to which we can personally relate.
The one "all-important characteristic of art" is the "artistic sincerity of the individual artist."
The experience of a work of art is more than the sum of its parts: "About every explicit and focal object there is a recession into the implicit which is not intellectually grasped. . . . A work of art elicits and accentuates this quality of being a whole and of belonging to the large, all-inclusive whole which is the universe in which we life."

I like Dewey's argument that art takes us beyond ourselves and connects us to something bigger. What scares me about Dewey, though, is that the "bigger" is not what it is for me--a sense of wonder and of the True and the Good that ultimately comes from the Creator--but rather, the "bigger" is the Borgian social fabric that sees the individual, with all his desire for personal sovereignty and fulfillment, as a hindrance.

I would be interested to hear from any of my philosophically astute readers whether I am correctly understanding the three writers above. I would also be interested to hear my readers' definitions of art. What is it, and how do you know when you've been in contact with it?

Remembering . . .

. . . this day in 2010.

Life Update Number I-Don't-Even-Know

If you're friends with me on Facebook you already know some of this, but maybe not all, so if you want to make sure you are completely informed about the mundane trivialities of my existence you will have to read the whole post. :-)

We spent the Fourth at home. We generally don't go to see fireworks anywhere--for our introverted, highly sensitive group such an event is too crowded, noisy, and this year, too hot. So instead we stayed in and enjoyed a slower pace, watching some tennis, grilling some burgers, and working on a few house tasks. I returned to my kitchen painting project, which has been neglected for months now. It is a slow process because in one of my rare daring moments I decided it would be fun to have a red kitchen (Valspar Heirloom Red, to be precise). What was I even thinking? I know what I was thinking. I am going to love it when it's done. But everything is requiring a minimum of one coat of primer and two coats of paint. And my kitchen has a lot of corners, so this is going to take a while. (One of these days I'll post before and after pictures.)

In honor of Independence Day, we took time after supper to read the Declaration of Independence. Have you ever done that? If not, you should. It's not very long and is a classic example of inductive reasoning. And, oh yeah, it's how our country got started! 

After reading aloud together we gathered around the piano for some patriotic songs and Evan did some robust flag-waving. Then we wrapped up the evening with a few episodes of the Peanuts This is America, Charlie Brown DVD. (And I can't believe the price on that item! I know we didn't pay anywhere near that much!)

Caitlin is not pictured above as she is away this week attending Higher Things, an annual conference for Lutheran youth. She is going with our good friends from Nebraska. Pictured below is the handoff, somewhere on I-80. You can see that she fits right in with this group! Trevor is not attending Higher Things but was along for the ride, as Phillip took him to Lincoln for a summer lesson with his piano professor at University of Nebraska on this same trip. While they were in Lincoln, Phillip, Trevor and Caitlin took time to visit the Nebraska state capitol building and Caitlin got a little more familiar with the UNL campus. College is still several years away for her, but she is starting to compile a list of institutions to consider, and UNL is one.

Hey, I think I recognize those t-shirts! :-)

I was devastated by the Supreme Court decision on Obamacare this week. I am too devastated to blog about it. What were they even thinking?

In spite of the extreme temperatures our garden seems to be doing well. We have been enjoying our romaine lettuce for weeks now and have made one round of pesto. Several of the broccoli plants played out early but one is producing nicely. Parsley is looking good, tomatoes are starting to ripen and okra is hitting its stride. The jury is still out on the cucumbers, peas and beans, though.

Today I am leaving to drive part of the way to Missouri to pick up Caitlin. I will stay with an old, dear friend in Iowa tonight and get a much needed hug. Make that ten hugs. It has been a very difficult spring. I do not want to share details at this time, but if you are reading I would appreciate your prayers for our family. We are in need of God's direction for us, and until that direction is made known, patience and faith and peace of mind and spirit. But most of all, we could use some answers, and we could use them soon. We are boldly praying and would deeply appreciate your praying with us for some things in our lives to be resolved in the near future in a way that would lead to much rejoicing! Thank you for reading. Stay cool!

Best Laid Plans

Yesterday we went to Warren Dunes in Michigan. It is one of our favorite things to do in the summer. We had been watching the weather and trying for a while to find a break in everyone's schedule that would allow us all to go. Even though the forecast yesterday indicated a 20% chance of thunderstorms later in the day, we decided to take our chances as it will be a few weeks before everyone will again be available.

The dunes are a two-hour drive from our house, so our plan was to leave at 6:00 a.m. and arrive in time to have a hearty breakfast before entering the park. Various factors conspired to result in a 7:00 a.m. rather than a 6:00 a.m. departure, but by about 9:00 we were chowing down at Luisa's Cafe & Swedish Bakery in Harvert, Michigan. Here's Evan finishing off his buttermilk pancakes. Caitlin had the Swedish pancakes with lingonberries, while my choice was baked organic oatmeal with dried cherries.

After breakfast we headed for the park and spent about 45 minutes setting up, changing clothes (in the park restrooms, of course!), and applying sunscreen. We found a shady spot under a tree (I may be from Texas but I still don't handle the sun well) and Caitlin took a quick dip in the surf (she is a carpe diem soul, that one). Then she, Evan and Trevor headed off to climb the dunes.

Unfortunately, that's when the trouble started. As distant thunder sounded, a voice came over the park loudspeaker warning of an approaching storm and encouraging people to leave the water if conditions deteriorated further. A little while later our crew returned from their hike and not long after that the loudspeaker voice was back with greater passion, asking people to leave the water and also suggesting that those on the dunes should begin their descent since most of the dead trees on the dunes got that way as the result of being struck by lightning. The good news is that most of the climbers heard and quickly responded. I wish I had had my video camera to record the mass descent!

We sat for a while longer as the temperature started to drop (aaaaahhhh), planning who would grab what if we needed to clear out quickly. As the first drops began we did just that. We had our picnic lunch in our car while scratching our heads at the Really Dumb People who thought it entertaining to climb trees, swim, play on the beach, and ride waverunners in a lightning storm. After a while it became clear that the storm was not going to subside any time soon. We headed home, consoling ourselves with stops back at Luisa's for cookies and Starbucks for coffee. Even though things did not turn out quite as planned, the day was still one spent entirely together and entirely away from Everyone Else, and for that we are thankful!

Gut Reaction

In addition to ruling on Obamacare on Thursday, the Supreme Court ruled on the "Stolen Valor" statute signed into law by former President George W. Bush. The law had made it a crime to lie about one's having received military honors or medals. The Supreme Court struck it down by a 6-3 vote.

While I understand the indignation of American citizens at those who would misrepresent their military record so as to get accolades of which they are undeserving, I also worry about the precedent that would be set by allowing the government to become the arbiter of truth in the public forum. We already have laws making it a crime to lie under oath. If we start allowing the government to categorize other lies according to their level of offensiveness, I have to wonder where it will stop? Especially now, with Obamacare still breathing and providing the federal government even more of an excuse to invade every aspect of our daily lives, do we really need to grant it the power to decide what kinds of lies are acceptable and what kinds are not? Again, unless it's done under oath, I consider lying to be a moral/spiritual offense, not a legal one.

Disclaimer: I have been paying attention to very little these days apart from the care and feeding of my own barracks and the troops therein, so I could be sadly misinformed on this whole issue. But this is what my gut tells me. Please be kind to my gut. It's had a hard year.

Wordless Wednesday

Math Class

Question for You Fun Word People

Today, while we were waiting for Sunday School to start, my two oldest children and I had a discussion about grammar. (Isn't that what everyone does while waiting for Sunday School to start?)

The issue at hand was the proper use of the word "fun." My daughter informed me that according to the grammar book she is reading right now (written by "Grammar Girl" Mignon Fogarty), "fun" is only correctly used as a noun. So it is proper to say, "Did you have fun?" but improper to say, "That was a fun game." She (my daughter) observed that one mark of adjectives is that they have comparative and superlative forms (good, better, best; pretty, prettier, prettiest) but that we don't say say "funner" and "funnest." (Yes, we do say "more fun" and "most fun" but I think the grammar purists would argue that when we do so we are using "fun" as a noun, not an adjective, with "more" and "most" serving as  adjectives.)

I have to admit that, Master's degree in English notwithstanding, I had to stop and think about this one. Really? I can't go to a fun party or, after coming home from that same party state that "it was fun"?

I went to Grammar Girl's website and found this entry, in which she discusses the question at length. As with many points of grammar, it depends whom you ask.

So of course I'm asking you, my brilliant readers! Can "fun" be an adjective? What about "word"? If not, what am I going to do about the title of this post? And if I do nothing and turn out to be a descriptive grammarian hiding behind a prescriptive veil, will you still respect me in the morning?

"I'm Nobody! Who Are You?" (Updated)

This week my husband and I were blessed to attend the 19th Annual Concordia Catechetical Academy Symposium in Sussex, Wisconsin. One of the presenters, Pastor Rolf Preus, spoke about "Knowing Who Jesus Is By What Jesus Does." Here is the third paragraph of that paper (we were provided with a print version):

"We cannot confess the two natures of Christ without confessing Christ as our Redeemer from sin. We cannot talk about who Jesus is without talking about what Jesus does. We cannot consider the person of Christ in isolation from his work."

The inability to separate Christ's words from His actions was a recurring theme of the conference. I had the thought while listening to all of this that it gets at the heart of why vocation is so important. Human beings are inextricably tied to what they do. It is from what we do that we take our identity. 

So when a relationship is broken, one feels not only the loss of that person on an external level but on an internal one as well. "I was a __________ (friend, spouse) and now I'm not; what, then, am I?"

Or when a dear one dies, that loss, too, is more than just the absence of that beloved person, but a new hole within oneself. "I was a __________ (daughter, son, mother, father, sibling) and now I'm not, at least not to the person who is gone; what, then, am I?"

Or when a job is lost, it is not just the worry about making ends meet that can keep one up at night, but the questioning of who one is. "I was a __________ (teacher, pastor, cantor, accountant, secretary) and now I'm not; what then, am I?"

The list could go on. When the loss is not due to death or a broken relationship or the ending of employment but is instead merely the passing from one phase of life to another (as with a breadwinner retiring or a homeschool mom's last child leaving home or going to school) there will still be significant need for adjustment because when the thing we have done for so long comes to an end we are going to some extent feel and grieve that loss.

I realize I am not observing anything new or profound here. But considering all of this in light of Pastor Preus's paper has driven the point home for me in a brand new way. We are what we do. What we do is at the core of who we are. So when what we do changes, we may find ourselves wondering, "Who in the world am I?"

Thanks be to God that even when a Christian can't answer that question in terms of his temporal life he can still answer it in terms of his eternal one: "I may not know what I am doing today, and I may not know what I am going to do tomorrow, but I know who I am. I am a child of God. Jesus has called me, and no matter what I do, I am HIS!" 

"Trust Not in Rulers . . . "

. . . or fathers or mothers or friends or family or jobs or employers or paychecks or inheritances or churches or pastors or health or pets or intelligence or education or accomplishments or charm or talent or strength or youth or beauty or skill or possessions or status or reputation or house or country or world.

But I know--you will. And so will I. And as always, our Heavenly Father, He Who does not forsake, the only One worthy of our unmitigated trust, will step in to pick up the broken pieces of whatever idolatrous piggy bank we have placed our hope in this time. And then He will not merely glue it back together but instead replace it with one that is so full of His eternal treasure that we can't even get a good rattle out of it, and that is likewise so impervious to breakage that repeated droppings will not compromise it. Even more amazing, no matter how many times we open up the bottom and pull out some of the contents, it is always full the next time we come back for more, because He continually supplies it with Himself.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy. May I have some Word and Sacrament, please?

Sounds from a Sunday Afternoon

I was inspired this afternoon to record this two-minute video. My husband and two sons were watching the Yankees-Mets game when Phillip decided to play the piano on a commercial break. He launched into "Amazing Grace" and this is what I managed to record. I did so surreptitiously, which is why all you see is the view out our living room window. Meanwhile, you can hear dogs playing with squeaky toys and family chatter in the background.

What a blessed life I lead. Amazing grace, indeed! By the way, Phillip told me that the music you hear here goes with the words to the fourth and fifth stanzas as found in Lutheran Service Book, #744:

"Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail
And mortal life shall cease,
Amazing grace shall then prevail
In heaven's joy and peace.

When we've been there ten thousand years,

Bright shining as the sun,

We've no less days to sing God's praise

Than when we'd first begun."

The Girl Can Play

Don't mention it. Oh, wait, you didn't, did you?

So, Rebekah visited and said some positively lovely things about our day together. Really, she made my house sound so nice I had to wonder at first whom in the world she was writing about. I do, however, need to point out one omission on her part. It must have been an unintentional oversight. Because certainly you wouldn't come all the way to Chicagoland and not mention that your hostess rewarded your effort by making sure you got to watch an entire episode of Spongebob Squarepants uninterrupted for the first time ever.

You're welcome, friend. It's the least I could do. I wanted to make your visit special. I have nothing if not imagination.

Trinity Sunday

I Think, Therefore I Wear

Remember that drawing of my daughter's I posted a few weeks ago?

Well, she took our advice and decided to make it more widely available. Our box arrived in the mail today!

I know what I'll be wearing and drinking out of tomorrow. You can join the club by visiting Caitlin's page at Cafepress.com. If they aren't having a sale right now, just wait. They will. If you're on Facebook, you can like the Cafepress page and increase your chances of getting a coupon code.

What are you even waiting for?

Junior High Concert

For my readers who aren't on Facebook and might not otherwise see these, here are a few videos from the concert my husband's junior high choir gave earlier this week. In the first two songs his assistant directed so he could play piano. He plays jazz and I don't, so he was without question the right man to accompany the first piece (he played many more notes than there were in the sheet music!). And in the second piece, he played because we couldn't find our sheet music (all we have is a solo version of the piece--he arranged the vocal parts that you hear sung by the choir). Rather than his writing out a part for me to play, he just played the accompaniment himself (and again, played a much more interesting arrangement than I would have played just by reading the ink). Look, Ma, no score!

I am playing on the third piece, which, by the way, Phillip also arranged in part. If you are familiar with the song you know it starts with the quicker tempo that in this video doesn't come until later. It was my husband's idea to slow down the opening verse and give it to a soloist. I think it provides a new spin to a song that has become so popular that most people attending choir concerts these days have heard it.

Making Sense of High Sensitivity

I concluded my previous post about my son by stating that I have come to the conclusion that I, like him, am highly sensitive. I am surprised for several reasons to find myself typing these words. First, I am a cynic when it comes to these kinds of things. I don't know why, but I have always resisted arguments from cause. I think causality is way more complicated and harder to prove than most people imagine it to be. So when people attribute behavior to biology my skeptical side kicks into gear. I don't like anything that provides a potential excuse for things I think people should be able to control. I think we have come to a place sociologically that we want to have a name for everything and a box to put it in and a place on the shelf to put it, and I don't think things are that simple. And even though I have a child with Asperger Syndrome, my attitude towards that "condition" is that it is something that is completely normal for him and a lot of other people. It is just the way he is, in the same way that some of us are more introverted and others are more extroverted. I don't care whether there is a name for it except insofar as its having a name allowed us to more easily access information that assisted us in understanding and teaching our son.

So there is a big part of me that is highly (haha) annoyed to discover this thing called "high sensitivity" and further to discover that it might apply to one of my children and to me. But I can't ignore what I have read and learned in the past few weeks. The passage in the Highly Sensitive Child book (Elaine Aron, author) that started bells ringing in my head was this one:

"Parenting certain HSCs is also more difficult than parenting others. Some are real 'drama queens' and demanding 'little princes.' This partly depends on other aspects of their temperament . . . plus the child's role models and general environment. . . . I also find that parents who are more accepting of the trait and generally available and responsive to their child are the ones, ironically, whose HSCs are more 'trouble' when small. This is because their child feels free to express his feelings . . . . Parents who are less available and responsive--perhaps they are overwhelmed themselves, or nor comfortable with intense emotions--may cause an HSC to hide her feelings in order to be accepted and not cause any trouble. But the child never learns to cope with these bottled-up feelings, and they usually resurface in other ways in adulthood, when it is much harder to fix. So I always worry a bit when parents tell me that their HSC 'never caused us any trouble at all.'" - Chapter 2, p. 47

The more I study high sensitivity, the more I think I am a highly sensitive person who was a "good" highly sensitive child. I am the youngest of a blended family and when I was growing up there was extreme conflict in the home compounded by mental illness and alcoholism. It would be an overwhelming environment for anyone--how much more so for the highly sensitive person. I have been told by older siblings that when I was a baby/toddler I cried all the time. When I got older, I went from "crying all the time" to "reading all the time." I learned to disappear. It was the best way to survive: get a book, go find a corner, and try not to be noticed. And the trying not to be noticed is pretty much how I have spent my life, which is why I never would have thought of myself as being highly sensitive. Aren't highly sensitive people extremely emotional and obvious about it, calling attention to themselves as they express their inner turmoil in dramatic and noticeable ways?

Well, no. Not necessarily. Here is a list of traits associated with high sensitivity:

Aware of subtleties in one's physical environment and in the moods of others
Very sensitive to physical pain
Need to withdraw to get relief from the stress of being overstimulated
Particularly sensitive to the effects of caffeine
Easily overwhelmed by sensory input (bright lights, loud noises, strong smells, etc.)
Prone to startle easily
Conscientious--tries very hard to avoid making mistakes or forgetting things
Stressed out by too many demands or people coming on all at once (everyone is like this, but highly sensitive people have a lower-than-average threshold)
Intuitive--good at picking up on what's happening non-verbally
When people are uncomfortable, the HSP tends to know what to do to increase their comfort.
Deeply moved by music and the arts
Possessed of a complex and rich inner life--a deep thinker
Avoids extremely graphic or violent movies and television shows
Need for high degree of control/ability to arrange things to avoid upsetting/overwhelming situations
Low tolerance for hunger or thirst, cold or heat
Difficulty performing while being observed
Low tolerance for change
"Shy" (Aron doesn't like this word and prefers the term "social discomfort" for shyness)

The only items on this list that don't resonate with me are the low pain threshold (I think I have a high one) and high sensitivity to caffeine (I am very caffeine tolerant). Everything else fits pretty much perfectly. I am reminded of my husband's good-natured kidding of me over the years about my frequent need to get my "tuffet" in order before I can relax--to adjust things such as the thermostat or the speed of the fan or the volume of the radio to a precise level that I can tolerate. If he drives my car and changes the seat adjustment, it takes me forever to get it back to where it feels right again. I obsess about the slightest differences in facial expression or tone of voice in my friends or family members. If I'm in a group of people I worry greatly about whether someone is feeling left out or someone's words are being misunderstood. I want everyone to get along; conflict greatly upsets me. I have no poker face and am not good at either pretending or teasing; neither do I take teasing well. I also obsess about my own appearance and the judgments I imagine people are making about me. Perhaps not all of this is related to high sensitivity, but I think much of it probably is. Here is another passage, this one in The Highly Sensitive Person, that rang very true:

"We are often told, 'Don't worry; no one is judging you.' But being sensitive, you may be noticing that people really are watching and judging; people usually do. The nonsensitive are often happily oblivious of it. So your task in life is much harder: to know about those glances, those silent judgments, and still not let them affect you too much. It's not easy." (Chapter 15, p. 90)


Speaking of feeling judged, the Preface to the book begins this way:

"'Cry baby!'
'Scaredy-cat!'
'Don't be a spoilsport!'
Echoes from the past?"

Um, yeah. Most definitely. Add in "wet blanket." I have always been, and will always be, the one who worries incessantly about the danger, the risk, and the consequences of whatever is going on at the moment--the little mommy that spoils everyone's fun, that doesn't want to go on the big adventure or ride the roller coaster or get her shoes dirty or her clothes wet. And yeah, I have felt judged and marginalized as a result.


If you are still with me, I will share just one more thought. There is a chapter in The Highly Sensitive Child about trying to parent an HSC when you, too, are an HSC. Here, too, I see myself in neon lights. Highly sensitive parents are more likely to overprotect their children, to avoid exposing them to new experiences, to empathize with them to a fault, feeling their pain (both physical and emotional) more than a nonsensitive person would, to have trouble asserting themselves on their children's behalf, and to have trouble asserting their own needs within the family (so they care for the needs of others to a fault, resulting in others not learning how to care for themselves as they should). This is my life. I could go through each item in this list giving example after example, but I think I will just let you take my word for it.

And then there is the situation of one highly sensitive parent and one not highly sensitive parent trying to co-parent the highly sensitive child. You can imagine the issues that arise when the parents are coming from two such different places. That is another whole blog post, which I may get to eventually. Let me just say that my husband and I are starting to better understand ourselves as parents and realizing that we could both adjust our approaches in certain areas.

I am interested to hear from any of my readers who think they, too, are highly sensitive. According to Aron, about 20% of people are highly sensitive, and 30% are at least moderately so. This is not to say that the rest of the world is made up of unfeeling clods with no sensitivity at all--humans are by definition sensitive!--only that 20-30% of people are more sensitive than average. I think my high sensitivity may be one of the reasons I have trouble sleeping and feel most of the time as if I am physiologically on high alert, with butterflies in my stomach and heart pounding and cortisol levels heightened for no apparent reason. Things that most people deal with as a matter of course send my body into overdrive. If you think you are highly sensitive, take heart. One of Aron's themes in both of the books I have read is that high sensitivity is not a handicap, but a gift. Certainly it can create challenges for people trying to make their way in a world that is not built with them in mind. But there are many benefits to being highly sensitive. Feeling is good. Feelings are good. It's what we do with them that counts.

A Parenting Epiphany

I've recently had an epiphany. Several, actually. The first is that my son Evan, 8, fits perfectly the definition of a highly sensitive child (HSC). I have known for a long time that he is "sensitive." But when I thought about sensitivity I tended to do so in purely behavioral terms. So I equated his sensitivity with the fact that he seems to feel things incredibly deeply and to wear his heart on his sleeve, broadcasting every emotion for all to see and sometimes having trouble getting those emotions in check. But none of those things automatically equate to being Highly Sensitive. Like introversion and extroversion, high sensitivity has more to do with what is going on inside a person than it does with what you see coming out of the person. It's not something you can identify merely on the surface.

Having recently shared with a few friends some of my and my husband's challenges in parenting Evan, I was advised to read the book linked above, The Highly Sensitive Child by Elaine Aron, and I have been doing so for the past week. I have learned so much! High sensitivity means literally what it says: the senses of a highly sensitive person are heightened such that textures, smells, sounds, tastes and visual stimuli are all more pronounced. So there is a higher, stronger level of sensory input than there is for the average person and there is also more of it; in other words, because the receptors are more sensitive the stimuli are increased in both quality/intensity and in quantity. Not only that, the highly sensitive person is typically more intuitive, picking up on subtleties that many people miss. All of this can sometimes add up to sensory overload, with which the highly sensitive person uses various means of coping.

The Highly Sensitive Child begins with a diagnostic list of 23 markers for highly sensitive children. Aron says that 13 or more of them indicate likely high sensitivity. Evan exhibits about 20 of them. They are things like--

startles easily

complains about seams in socks and labels in shirts (Evan takes forever to put on his shoes because his socks have to be just right, and I have to cut the tags out of the back of most of his shirts. Once he gets used to wearing a certain type of clothing it is also very difficult to get him to change. I still have not gotten him to wear sandals this summer.)

uses big words for one's age

dislikes wet, dirty or sandy clothing--has to change immediately if something is soiled (Evan changed his shirt yesterday due to a hole the size of a nail head. Then he asked if I could please go to the store and get him another shirt exactly like the one with the hole.)

asks deep, thought-provoking questions (Um, yeah. We get our share of those. )

dislikes surprises

very sensitive to pain

bothered by noise

cautious--considers the safety of things and avoids risks

performs best when strangers aren't present

feels things deeply

notices slightest unusual odor (and the poor kid has coffee drinkers for parents)

clever sense of humor

intuitive

has trouble getting to sleep

doesn't do well with big changes (or even small ones)

asks a lot of questions

is a perfectionist

empathetic--notices and feels deeply the distress of others

notices subtleties (something in a different place than it used to be or a change in someone's appearance)

There are several other things that are not included in the diagnostic list but are mentioned in the course of the book. Evan exhibits all of these:

more allergies than the average child

frequent headaches

strong sense of shame (I see this in Evan a lot--he will do something wrong, will say he's sorry and be forgiven, but then he continues to feel ashamed.)

My oldest son has Asperger Syndrome. We have been wondering for a while if Evan might have it, too, but while he has a few AS traits he is missing others. According to the book, high sensitivity is often confused with AS or other autism spectrum disorders because of the physical sensitivity and also because of some of the behaviors one might see in an overwhelmed HSC. But the big difference between AS and high sensitivity is that an AS child is not sensitive to social input, in fact misses huge aspects of it, while a highly sensitive child is. The HSC may have trouble handling all the social input, but he is most definitely tuned in to it.

We have also wondered if Evan has ADD (attention deficit disorder) because of the ease with which his mind wanders. For example, he is in children's choir at our church, and he loves to sing, but so often he just forgets. He will start out singing something, stop a few words in while he ponders something else, and then suddenly come back in at the end (usually too loud). But at other times he can concentrate for very long periods. In the book Aron says that high sensitivity is often confused with ADD due to the high distractibility of both types of children but that the difference is that the HSC does not have the same basic difficulty with "executive functions such as decision making, focusing, and reflecting on outcomes. HSCs are usually good at all of this, at least when they are in a calm, familiar environment" (p. 29). It's just that, again, the HSCs are aware of so much that they may have trouble ignoring the distractions.

Some other things I have observed in Evan that I am now starting to connect to high sensitivity are--

Nightmares

Fear of television--he will only watch tapes of shows he has seen before because he is afraid of startling images, loud noises, or anything unexpected coming on to the screen. It is hard to get him to watch something he has never seen before.

Crying over goodbyes--even when it is a child he just met and played with for a short time on the playground.

Refusal to play outside because of fear of bugs.

High level of empathy--I have to be very careful about the books I choose to give or read to him because he will become distraught over even mildly sad or scary stories. He has cried over Calvin & Hobbes.

Taking forever to complete simple tasks because he is distracted by every. single. thing.

Dislike of things or people that look different from what he is used to. We had to drop out of swimming class a few years ago in part because his female teacher had a crew cut and multiple piercings and he was afraid of her.

Dislike of things which threaten his ability to control his responses. On more than one occasion when expecting something in the mail he has told me, "Only tell me if it comes. Don't tell me if it doesn't come." So he will watch as I go out and check the mail. And I know he is watching to see if the thing he is expecting came. But if it didn't come, and I return to the house to tell him, "It didn't come" there is the danger of a meltdown, whereas if I just don't say anything and let him watch and figure it out on his own he will be able to handle the disappointment better.

Refusal to use the same utensil for more than one item of food on his plate.

And the list could go on. As I peruse it again, I am amazed that it took me this long to stumble on this framework for understanding my child. So much is making sense in a way it never did before. And here at the age of 47 I am understanding myself a little better, too. Because for the first time I have realized that I am also a highly sensitive person. My family is laughing at me, saying, I'm sure, "We could have told you that." But it is a revelation to me. And in another post I'll tell you why.

Kickball with the Cantor

Last week we had our end-of-year Schola Cantorum (parish children's choir) party. What does a Schola Cantorum do when they aren't singing? They have what has come to be affectionately known as a "frolic day." (The word "frolic" has become a staple of our day school and parish children's choirs' vocabulary, as his singers regularly ask the cantor, "When's the next frolic day?")

We were blessed with beautiful weather for playing outside and we took full advantage of it before going inside for treats. The first kid running into home (the one that had to be reminded to run) towards the end of the video is mine. :-)

Summer School

I am so proud of these two. First, a little horn-tooting on Caitlin's behalf. She just received her geometry grade for the year: A-! For a girl whose aptitudes lean more towards the arts and humanities, I'd say that's a superb showing. Much credit goes to Caitlin, but we were also blessed with an excellent teacher at the homeschool co-op where Caitlin took the course. We are pleased that Caitlin will have the same teacher for Algebra II/Trig next year.

Now to the pictures you see below. Yesterday Caitlin began summer school math. You will notice that her teacher is her brother, who has offered to coach her in math while he is home this summer. He is designing a custom curriculum based on his study of Caitlin's performance on the math portion of the PSAT, which she took for practice this past fall. Her scores on reading and writing were in the 99th percentile for sophomores taking the test, but her math score was not quite so impressive. She is my word girl, after all. The simple fact of her having now completed geometry should help a lot, but we would like to be proactive this summer and help her to be as competitive as she possibly can when she takes the test for keeps.

Trevor is such a fine teacher. Towards the end of last week he asked if he could have at least an hour per day of Caitlin's time for math this summer. I said yes. Then he asked for that hour to be put on the schedule at a regular time. Math class has been set for the hour following lunch each day. Class includes timed drills on various types of problems (one of Caitlin's weaknesses was speed) plus targeted work on concepts utilizing various resources, including Khan Academy videos.

I am so proud of Caitlin for what she has accomplished in math and for her continuing commitment to achieve her highest potential in it. And I am equally proud of a son who takes to heart his callings as brother and friend. How blessed I am to watch and learn about love, family, perseverance, and vocation from these two fine individuals. And how blessed to claim them as my own!

How to Teach Spelling in One Easy Step

Have your child misbehave on a field trip to the extent that he needs to write apology notes to the seven other people who were in the van with him on the way home. By the time he's done writing you will never again have to tell him how to spell the following words:

Dear

Very

Sorry

Behavior

Annoying

Please

Forgive

 

Ta-da!

Sugar, Sugar

"Mom, it's important that children get enough sweets. It they go without sweets for two months they might get a sugar coma. With a sugar coma they will itch all over and everything will taste sour. But won't worry, adults don't get sugar comas, only kids."

"And do you think their conscience prickles? No, it tickles."

Caitlin and I are back to the Cameron Thompson book for literature. Last week and this it was poetry. I get away from reading poetry for long periods of time and then when I get back to it I wonder why I stayed away. There is just nothing like a great poem for awakening senses that have been numbed by a too-long stretch of existential days. This morning I spent about an hour sitting in the parking lot reading poetry while Caitlin was at geometry and came to the conclusion that I am not getting enough of sunshine, fresh air, or poetry these days! 


Here's one that I particularly appreciated. It's by Ogden Nash. Remember him? He wrote all those fun animal poems you enjoy reading to your children. Well, here's one for us grownups. It's from the "Truth" section of the book. The poem exudes Nash's characteristic whimsicality, but beneath the lighthearted tone is a cynical testament to the benefits of dissembling.     


"Golly, How Truth Will Out!"- Ogden Nash


How does a person get to be a capable liar? 
That is something that I respectfully inquiar, 
Because I don't believe a person will ever set the world on fire 
Unless they are a capable lire. 
Some wise men said that words were given to us to conceal our thoughts 
But if a person has nothing but truthful words why their thoughts haven't even the protection of a pair of panties or shoughts,
And a naked thought is ineffectual as well as improper, 
And hasn't a chance in the presence of a glib chinchilla-clad whopper. 
One of the greatest abilities a person can have, I guess, 
Is the ability to say Yes when they mean No and No when they mean Yes. 
Oh to be Machiavellian, oh to be unscrupulous, oh, to be glib! 
Oh to be ever prepared with a plausible fib! 
Because then a dinner engagement or a contract or a treaty is no longer a fetter, 
Because liars can just logically lie their way out of it if they don't like it or if one comes along that they like better; 
And do you think their conscience prickles? 
No, it tickles. 
And please believe that I mean every one of these lines as I am writing them 
Because once there was a small boy who was sent to the drugstore to buy some bitter stuff to put on his nails to keep him from biting them, 
And in his humiliation he tried to lie to the clerk 
And it didn't work, 
Because he said My mother sent me to buy some bitter stuff for a friend of mine's nails that bites them, and the clerk smiled wisely and said I wonder who that friend could be, 
And the small boy broke down and said Me, 
And it was me, or at least I was him, 
And all my subsequent attempts at subterfuge have been equally grim, 
And that is why I admire a suave prevarication because I prevaricate so awkwardly and gauchely, 
And that is why I can never amount to anything politically or socially.

Schola Does Chicago!

Earlier this week our church's Schola Cantorum sang for chapel at Concordia University-Chicago. We have done this trip with both our Schola Cantorum and our junior high day school choir several times over the last few years. We load up children in cars, drive to River Forest, sing for chapel, have a little fun, and then stick around long enough to serve as a demonstration choir for Dr. Charles Brown's children's choir conducting class. It has proven to be a mutually beneficial arrangement for all involved!

I did manage to get a few photos from the day. Here is our choir, which meets every Wednesday after school. There are 17 singers ranging from second to fifth grade. That is not a set age range but is just how it worked out this year. All of these children but one (mine, who is homeschooled) attend our church's day school and also sing in school choirs. So they are bullish about singing! This is a wonderful group of children and we love working with them.

After chapel we had a picnic lunch. It was a beautiful day for it! Clearly our little angels also know how to be silly.

Waiting for instructions from the The Man.

Time to blow off some steam!

Not everyone had steam to blow.

We love choir moms.

Choir is a place for making friends!

After lunch and outdoor play it was time for ice cream. Bet you can guess where we went.

"Look at what we colored, Cantor!" 

Cantor served as guest instructor for Dr. Brown's class. With the children's help he demonstrated warm-ups, talked about children's voices and repertoire, and discussed techniques for running a rehearsal and managing discipline.

The university students were extremely attentive and asked excellent questions. Dr. Brown is pictured at far left. CUC is so blessed to have him on the music staff. We are huge fans of Dr. Brown!

The students and their director. My little guy is in the front row, far right (distracted as usual).

The children sang four selections for chapel, all memorized. This was the only one I recorded (I was playing piano on the others and failed to get a surrogate videographer). The children sang the second stanza of "Dear Christians, One and All, Rejoice." The setting is by my husband. Dr. Steve Wente is playing organ. It is impossible to overstate the musical, educational and spiritual value of this day for the children. We are so thankful to CUC for making this day possible!

"Dear Christians, One and All, Rejoice" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

From My Daughter's Hand

I'm thinking this one could really take off. T-shirts, coffee mugs, the whole bit. There are so many applications. And it gets the point across incredibly well, don't you think?

Wordless Wednesday

"Banana Bread"

Insomnia Slayers

My insomnia has been a little better of late. I have started taking melatonin most nights before bed, and it seems to be helping. Maybe it's a placebo effect--I don't know. Whatever it is, I'll take it!

Last night I went to bed around 10:30. Earlier, when I tucked Evan in, I could tell he was having his own bedtime anxiety. He is accustomed to having our dog Shiloh in his room at night, but since Trevor got home from college Shiloh's loyalties have been divided. Last night she was in her big boy's room. I asked Evan if he wanted me to get Shiloh to come in his room and he said no, he wanted her to stay with Trevor. He asked, "If I have trouble sleeping, can I come in your room?" and I said yes.

Around 11:00, just as I had fallen asleep, here came Evan. He asked if he could put his sleeping bag on the floor next to our bed and we said yes. The move accomplished, we all settled back in. Then, around 11:30, just as I was once again drifting off, I felt a hand on my arm. Guess who? I was rather vocal about my frustration at being awakened yet again.

So hubby took over, walking Evan back to his own room. They stayed there talking for a while, during which time I, of course, could not get back to sleep. When my husband returned he said he had had a talk with Evan about Mommy's insomnia and need for sleep and had tried to impress upon him that when you love someone, you put the other's needs before your own. His words seemed to have an impact because he told me that Evan had said, "I would risk my life for Mommy." (sniff)

This morning as soon as Evan woke up he came to me to say he was sorry for giving me "amnosia." :-) (I guess that's a combination of insomnia, amnesia, and nausea.) Of course I forgave him and said he didn't cause my "amnosia" but that Mommy has trouble sleeping and when I do finally get to sleep I need to be left to sleep. He said that he would try not to wake me up anymore and then added, "Daddy and I would risk our lives for you. We would do it together."

I am so very blessed.

Premonition

Last night Caitlin and I watched Premonition. It was released in 2007 and starred Sandra Bullock. It is of the "psychological thriller" genre, revolving around a housewife who, upon her husband's death in an automobile accident, finds herself caught in an apparent time loop in which she is randomly bouncing around among the days immediately preceding and following her husband's death, but in no particular order. One day she wakes up and her husband is alive and eating breakfast in the kitchen. The next day, she stumbles down the stairs to find that once again he's dead and the living room is filled with mourners. She repeatedly finds herself bumping up against the effects of actions that she has apparently taken but can't remember (for example, discovering a prescription bottle from a psychiatrist that she visited but has no memory of). The result is intriguing, sort of a combination of Groundhog Day and Alfred Hitchcock, and I was quickly drawn in to trying to figure out what was going on and how it would all end.

It was interesting, then, to discover that the reviews of the movie upon its release were pretty poor. Not only was Bullock's performance criticized for being stiff and wooden (she was playing a woman who was in shock following her husband's death, for Pete's sake), but the movie was criticized for being illogical and hard to follow. I would agree that it is confusing. But I think the reviewers that criticize this aspect of it are missing the point. I took the story as a whole to be an allegory of the mind following a life-shattering event. Have you ever had something happen in your life that was so enormous and so pivotal that it seemed to make everything come to an immediate halt? Time seems to stop. And then as you try to come to terms with the event, you find yourself going back in time, reliving not only the event but the days leading up to it. You ask yourself whether you saw this thing coming and whether there is anything you could have done to prevent or change it. You replay things in your mind and pick up on details you hadn't noticed before. You remember and long for the days long before the event, when everything seemed to be normal. And then you find yourself jumping ahead in time, imagining what your life is going to be post-event: wondering how things are going to change and how you're going to manage under the new reality. Sometimes you wonder if you're living a dream--or a nightmare. This is very much how this movie struck me, and as a result, it rang completely true. Sometimes life just doesn't make sense.

One of the things most criticized in the reviews I read was the movie's ending. I don't want to spoil things for anyone who has not seen it, but I think the ending was stunning. For the entire story we see Sandra Bullock as the wife at various times before and after her husband's death. She is like a detective trying to piece together a puzzle, wondering if she might even be able to do something to prevent the terrible thing from taking place. When she discovers that on the day of his accident her husband was driving to meet a woman with whom he had decided to have an affair, she wonders if her husband--and her marriage--are worth saving. She visits a priest who tells her every day is a miracle and she needs to fight for the things she cares about. But it seems a moot point because the time warp she is stuck in won't allow her to wake up on the actual day of her husband's death. Finally, though, the needle skips out of the groove in which it has been stuck and she finds herself reliving the events of THAT day. Rushing to the scene of her husband's accident, she is metaphorically ready to face the truth, whatever that truth is, and move on with her life, wherever it may take her.  

We think of life as a linear thing. And it is. There's a beginning, a middle and an end. But for our brains it's not always that simple. We have a way of replaying things in our minds, tormenting ourselves with the "what if's," "maybe's," and "if only's," wondering whether if we look at a thing from this perspective or that one it will somehow look different. It's something that we need to do, I think, to process great grief or shock or change. But there comes a time when we need to jump off the hamster wheel and move on. We can run on that wheel all we want; it's not going to change the facts. Once we jump off, we are ready to quit reliving the past and start planning and hoping for the future.

I just wish it weren't so hard to make that leap.

Field Trip

What? You mean you don't take field trips to Starbucks?

Hobnobbing with Royalty* (Updated)

I'm sorry. I know it's bad form to brag. But I can't help it. Because, you see, on Tuesday I met Rebekah. Yes, that Rebekah. When she let me know she was going to be attending the Gottesdienst conference with her husband this week, I knew I had to drive over. We have been online friends for a while but had never had the opportunity to meet in person. There was no way I was going to pass this up!

Have you ever met an online friend only to discover that she (or he) did not quite match the picture you had in your head? Yeah, me, too. But not this time. Rebekah was exactly as I imagined her, brimming with all the humor, intellect, and kindness that those of you who read the CSPP blog have come to expect. And as if all of that weren't enough, the lady is just so darned competent. You've heard that phrase "calm, cool and collected"? When you're in her presence you kind of get the feeling that everything's under control and it's all going to work out fine. I haven't felt that way in a while, so it was nice to absorb a little of it from my friend.

In addition to Rebekah, I also had the pleasure of meeting Melrose. And a few others I don't have links for. (By the way, every last one of them is a total babe.) I was the oddball of the group: no pastor husband in the other room, no children tagging along, and a few more years under my belt than everyone else. But there's an advantage to being the old lady in the group. After several hours soaking in all that youth and vitality, I came home feeling ten years younger. :-)

Only down side to the day: I forgot to get a picture!

*To be absolutely clear, the ladies in question--and their husbands--do not act like "royalty." They are some of the humblest people I know, dear brothers and sisters in the royal priesthood of fellow believers in Christ.