A Box of Chocolate & A Bubble Bath

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

This fall, my oldest child, Kyle, started tenth grade. As a homeschooler, I’m a bit anxious about it. Ok, I’m a lot anxious about it! “Everything should be done in a fitting and orderly way,” according to 1 Corinthians 14:40 (NIV). Paul’s referring to regulations for speaking in tongues. (By the look on my kids’ faces, sometimes they think I’m doing just that!) However, it’s also good advice for teaching. Problem is, I struggle to do anything in a fitting and orderly way. Recently, I carried a basket of clean laundry down the hall where I found something that belonged in my bedroom. I set the basket down and carried the item to my room where, after catching my reflection in the mirror, I stopped to brush my hair. My daughter came in, so I brushed her hair too. She was still in jammies, so I led her back to her room to change. Only when I took her dirty clothes to the laundry did I remember my original task.

I admit I’ve been a bit lax with our homeschool structure in recent years. Lax is an understatement. Let me try unorganized, panicked, disappointed, unstructured, befuddled. Like the laundry incident, distractions during class time often divert our attention. Some have become bad habits, like how, being the teenage boy that he is, Kyle must eat every ten minutes.

My daughter, Chloe, started first grade this year. Sure, I’ve been there, done that, but she has a totally different personality and a completely different learning style than her older brother. She wants to do her schoolwork at 9:00 at night when she’s avoiding bedtime, but still, if the child wants to learn, how can I turn her down?

Adam’s four. His education is not a major issue yet. He’s quite satisfied with number charts and picture books and children’s videos. As I said, though, he is four. He still longs to spend a lot of time on my lap with my eyes and ears tuned toward him. That can make teaching the other two difficult.

So how do I go about accomplishing school in a “fitting and orderly way”? Simple. With a box of chocolate and a bubble bath! I convince my husband to spend some quality time with the kids, or at least keep them from unlocking the door, and I barricade myself in my room. The running water is soothing (and drowns out the squeals and whines on the other side of the door) and allows me to commune with my Father. As I relax, I seek a higher education. I invite Him to “number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12 NIV), and I ask the Lord to arrange our daily schedules and to order our lesson plans. I also pray His hedge of thorns to surround us and prevent the enemy’s distraction.

I’ve also implemented some changes, including removing Kyle from the kitchen. He may take a snack to his room to do assignments, but he cannot come out until the work is done. I don’t think he’ll starve. I allow Chloe flex time. It just can’t delay bedtime. And with cool teaching aids, like a hand-shaped pointer and a fast facts dial, sweet little Adam can direct. I’ve also discovered that dry-erase markers work very well on the glossy ceramic tiles surrounding my kitchen desk. Fun for all!

Now if you’ll excuse me, my bath is ready and a box of chocolate awaits!

Jodi Whisenhunt is a 2009 Amy Writing Award recipient. She and her husband, Richard, homeschool their three children in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com and www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

Wedgie Tales

By Rhonda Rhea –

My 17 year old is the youngest of five kids. That means that he’s suffered a lot of wedgies through the years. But hey, I figure that’ll give him stories he can tell his kids. Some parents tell their children of the hardships of walking to and from school in the 12-foot snow—uphill both ways. My Daniel? He’ll be able to tell his children that he spent several years suffering through underwear with no waistbands. My friend Janet said he could call his life story, “Wedgie Tales.”

It’s a good reminder that tough situations, like waistbands, will come and go. The real question is, how will we respond? And will we allow those difficulties to defeat us or will we allow them to strengthen us? Will we rest in our Heavenly Father’s presence, seeing life from his eternal perspective? Or will we try to squirm out of those difficulties and make it through them on our own, pouting, whining, sputtering and blaming all along the way?

Stories of grace under pressure are so much more fun to pass on to our children. Those stories will even answer a lot of their questions about life and how we should live it. It will even set a pattern for them to follow. Now there’s a legacy.

In the Amplified version of 2 Corinthians 4:16-17 we read, “Therefore we do not become discouraged, utterly spiritless, exhausted, and wearied out through fear. Though the outer man is progressively decaying and wasting away, yet our inner self is being progressively renewed day after day. For our light, momentary affliction, this slight distress of the passing hour, is ever more and more abundantly preparing and producing and achieving for us an everlasting weight of glory, beyond all measure, excessively surpassing all comparisons and all calculations, a vast and transcendent glory and blessedness never to cease!”

Waistbands? Here today, wedgied away tomorrow. But we’re to be focused on the things that are eternal—the unseen blessedness that never ceases. Verse 18 says, “Since we consider and look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen; for the things that are visible are temporal, brief and fleeting, but the things that are invisible are deathless and everlasting” (2 Corinthians 4:18, AMP).

I’m fighting the urge to mention the fact that it says that the visible things are “brief.” Yeah, I’m totally leaving that one alone. But those invisible things? According to this passage, they’re everlasting! Maybe not ever-elastic. But everlasting and completely deathless, for sure. And ultimately, in our own personal “everlasting,” every question in this life, every why we’ve ever asked, will be answered in the most satisfying, resounding eternal-amen of an answer.

Pondering our everlasting, deathless future gives us an entirely different perspective on the momentary suffering. Even though here in the present there will still be questions left temporarily hanging. Incidentally, among those unanswered questions, there’s still this one:  Would you call a person with no waistbands left a “Wedge-etarian”?

Rhonda Rhea is a radio personality, conference speaker, humor columnist and author of seven books, including High Heels in High Places and her newest book, Whatsoever Things Are Lovely: Must-Have Accessories for God’s Perfect Peace. You can find out more at www.RhondaRhea.org.

This Column Brought to You by…

By Darren Marlar –

I’ve decided that starting immediately my monthly humor column will be sponsored by the highest bidder.  And why not? Everything else in the world is sponsored to the hilt. Take a look around and you’ll find just about every area of NASCAR with some corporate entity’s logo.

And is it my imagination, or do the Olympics seem to have an “official” sponsor for every product and service on the face of the earth? “The Official Orange Juice” or “The Official Vitamin” of the U.S. Olympic Teams would actually make sense. But what’s with “The Official Soft Drink of the U.S. Olympic Teams”? Do we really need the most finely tuned athletes on the planet endorsing a consumable with no nutritional value whatsoever? Are we soon going to see “The Official Tattoo Parlor of the U.S. Gymnastics Team” and “The Official Body Piercing Supplier of the NFL?”

Now I hear that the high cost of players’ salaries is causing major league baseball to come up with some creative ways to come up with cash – including placing advertising on not just all of the walls and displays, but now on the equipment as well. Yep… bats, balls, helmets, all going to the highest bidder.

So, in an effort to help the ideas flow for baseball ownership, I’m making a few of my own suggestions of sponsor placements.

The Presbyterian Church can sponsor the umpires’ chest protectors, with the slogan, “Thou Shalt Not Steal.”

The Catcher’s Mask could easily act as an educational tool by local law enforcement. “Write a bad check, and you, too, could be looking through bars.”

Because of the obviously prime placement, the pitcher’s mound would likely have a wealthy sponsor – perhaps Applebee’s advertising their drinks with, “Our pitchers are even bigger!”

First, Second, and Third Base each sponsored by Chickletts because, well, c’mon, that’s what they look like from the upper deck.

And finally (and I’m sure this has already been finalized), home plate will be sponsored by, of course, American Express. After all, you “don’t leave home without it.”

Darren Marlar is a stand-up comedian specializing in clean comedy.  He welcomes your comments through his website at www.DarrenMarlar.com.

Geckos

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

Geckos. Nope, I’m not referring to a certain insurance company. I’m talking about tiny little lizards that like to frighten me.

“Scared of geckos?” you ask. Yes. Yes, I am. It’s not so much a terrifying fear as much as it is a startling fright.

It all started in the mailbox. I opened the door, reached in and grabbed. Something jumped onto my hand, ran across and skittered down the bricks. I tossed the envelopes high in the air and let out an “Eek!” Cautiously inspecting each parcel, I retrieved the mail and hurried back inside. The next day, I opened the mailbox and the guardian of the goods stood his ground, daring me to take his letters. I guess he was expecting a fresh shipment of crickets.

Another time, I glanced up through the window above my front door, through which the porch light illuminates the foyer, and noticed a gecko lying in wait for a late night snack. I watched him inch closer, closer to the smorgasbord of flying delicacies. He’d scurry a bit one way or the other, seeking a better vantage point, but his attempts were futile. He’d never taste those beetles, moths and mayflies, because he was on the ceiling inside my house. You think I slept very well that night? He was gone by morning—but to where?

Now a family of three geckos ambushes me whenever I open the storm door. Recently, as my son stepped out, all three rushed in. One climbed straight into a laundry basket. Another dropped his flopping tail and got stuck in a cobweb, and the other stopped still on the door frame. If I’d let the door close, he’d have been squished. Fortunately for them (and for me), my teenager came to the rescue.

I do appreciate these little guys, and I know they will not harm me. In fact, they get rid of lots of pests. I credit them for the reduction in wolf spiders this year—thank you, thank you, thank you, geckos! I suppose it’s a good reminder to me that God is in control, even in the small things I might normally overlook. These geckos keep jumping out at me, sometimes literally, and forcing me to notice and be grateful “that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him” (Romans 10:9, NIV).

Jodi Whisenhunt is a 2009 Amy Writing Award-winning freelance writer and editor in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

Welcome Back to School, Please Sign Here

By Lynn Rebuck –

As a mom, I always dread the ton of homework that I get assigned on the first day of school.  There is always a sizeable stack of forms for me to review, complete and sign.

There used to be fewer, less complicated forms when kids started back to school. Now I need a paralegal to help me fill them all out.

First I encounter numerous classroom contracts which my son and I need to sign in triplicate.  Some need to be notarized.

We must stipulate to standards for classroom behavior, attendance and homework completion. I am sending my son to school this year with counter-offers.

Next I must complete the registration card requiring emergency contact information.

Designating someone to pick up your child when he or she becomes feverishly ill is always a tricky decision. It’s tough to get someone to commit for a second year of service once they’ve had to clean your child’s morning meal out of their minivan.

There is also the fairness and reciprocity rule to consider. If the individual you previously listed had to pick up your child multiple times, while her remarkably healthy children didn’t need you to come to the rescue the entire school year (they didn’t even have cavities), it would be inappropriate to ask her to commit to another year on-call.

Next in the stack is a media consent form that asks whether I authorize my son’s image to be photographed, his name to be published on the Internet or in the news media and for him to be interviewed by Anderson Cooper. Hmmm, I’m going to have to consult my son’s talent agent and publicist before I respond to that one.

By the time I get to the “radiological emergency” card I am overwhelmed with anxiety and ready to home school. Since we live within a 10-mile radius of a nuclear power plant, I must decide whether to authorize school personnel to give him an emergency dose of potassium iodide in the event of a nuclear emergency.

A more ominous card has evolved from the emergency contact card: the “catastrophic emergency” form. In the event of a total meltdown, no wait, that would fall under the nuclear emergency card…umm, in the event of a complete catastrophe, who do I want to pick up my child?  My first choice would be the First Lady. Michelle Obama can pick him up with Air Force One. I hope she doesn’t mind. I’d be happy to reciprocate.

By the time I finished all of the forms I was suffering from severe writer’s cramp, had multiple paper cuts and my signature had degraded into a series of illegible curves and squiggles.

But if a school district photographer ever snaps a photo of my son as Michelle Obama rushes him onto Air Force One following a catastrophic “nuclear” chain reaction right after school personnel administer iodide to him in the wake of an incident at Three Mile Island, district officials need not worry—I signed the forms.

Lynn Rebuck is an award-winning Christian humor columnist, speaker and mother whose humor column appears weekly in print and online. She is currently looking for loopholes in the library book return policy. Read Lynn’s humor blog on her website, www.LynnRebuck.com, sign up for her newsletter, follow her on Twitter and become a fan on Facebook. That’s your homework. © 2010 Lynn Rebuck

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