Yesterday was an incredibly trying day. Thing-after-thing kept jumping in and disrupting the days plans. A 30-minute wait in the grocery line, when I was planning on using that time to shower the kids after swim lessons, which meant they went to a movie with friends while still wet. A babbling toddler shouting over the podcast I was attempting to listen to while I unloaded groceries. An HVAC repairman that (I’m not kidding) shouted at me while doing a service call at our house. Constant disruptions during the toddler’s nap – my one hour work-time that I use for all the things I need to do and be able to think without interruption. Waking the toddler from her nap to hurry to a folk dancing event in our downtown, just to miss all about two minutes of the event. An older kid copping attitude because I asked for 15 minutes of cleaning up the house.
It felt like one thing after another, and no matter what I did to try to pivot (podcast, calm music, outside time, fun event, etc.) things just kept coming up.
I had also just read about The Will and The Conscience in Charlotte Mason’s writings, and was feeling rather convicted – I knew I didn’t want to be grumpy or sour. How to get out of it?
I went to the garden to yank some weeds out, and Rudyard Kipling’s poem came to mind as I was between the rows:
The Camel's Hump
The Camel's hump is an ugly lump
Which well you may see at the Zoo;
But uglier yet is the hump we get
From having too little to do.
Kiddies and grown-ups too-oo-oo,
If we haven't enough to do-oo-oo,
We get the hump—
Cameelious hump—
The hump that is black and blue!
We climb out of bed with a frouzly head,
And a snarly-yarly voice.
We shiver and scowl and we grunt and we growl
At our bath and our boots and our toys;
And there ought to be a corner for me
(And I know there is one for you)
When we get the hump—
Cameelious hump—
The hump that is black and blue!
The cure for this ill is not to sit still,
Or frowst with a book by the fire;
But to take a large hoe and a shovel also,
And dig till you gently perspire;
And then you will find that the sun and the wind,
And the Djinn of the Garden too,
Have lifted the hump—
The horrible hump—
The hump that is black and blue!
I get it as well as you-oo-oo
If I haven't enough to do-oo-oo!
We all get hump—
Cameelious hump—
Kiddies and grown-ups too!
After about thirty minutes, the sun, and the wind, and Djinn of the Garden had lifted the black dog off my back. A couple of my younger kids were running around the yard, gleefully watching worms wiggle and ants crawl. One child was on the porch in the shade, chatting to herself with two dolls. My oldest had discovered a patch of caterpillar eggs (with some bonus caterpillars) on the underside of a broccoli leaf with me, and was placing them in a jar to observe them. Apparently the sun, the wind, and the Djinn of the Garden had lifted their humps too.
I needed to “divert [my] thoughts” and then I was “able to look at the matter with the coolness of a third person.” (Home Education, p. 325)
My Conscience was aware that how I was acting was wrong; in the grand scheme of life, is it really worth getting all worked up over the things I had been sour about? What a blessing to be able to easily buy groceries, to take kids to swim lessons, to have friends who they go to the theater with (and moms who offer to take them when you can’t), to have a toddler who wants to babble to you about all the little things in her world, to have modern conveniences of heat and AC, to have children who want to try new things (and therefore need your help), to have a home to clean up, and to have a house full of vibrant, distinct personalities that I am entrusted to care for.
It made me think of what Charlotte said on page 333 of Home Education:
“The wonder that Almighty God can endure so far to leave the very making of an immortal being in the hands of human parents is only matched by the wonder that human parents can accept this divine trust with hardly a thought of its significance.”
Goodness gracious, it’s significance. Several souls are in my care, and the Atmosphere of my home yesterday was one of frustration, distractedness, anger, and sour temper. And if I’m honest with myself, it’s an Atmosphere that I often project.
One of my goals for this coming homeschool year (thanks to Brandy Vencel’s Flourish program) is to work on the habit of a sweet, even temper for myself. Yup, you read that right – not for my kids, but for myself. I have three tools to work with in their education: an Atmosphere, a Discipline, and a Life. One of my biggest tools is my own example, and my Conscience is aware that it’s not doing well. It’s like Paul Laurence Dunbar says in The Sparrow:
A little bird, with plumage brown,
Beside my window flutters down,
A moment chirps its little strain,
Ten taps upon my window–pane,
And chirps again, and hops along,
To call my notice to its song;
But I work on, nor heed its lay,
Till, in neglect, it flies away.
So birds of peace and hope and love
Come fluttering earthward from above,
To settle on life’s window–sills,
And ease our load of earthly ills;
But we, in traffic’s rush and din
Too deep engaged to let them in,
With deadened heart and sense plod on,
Nor know our loss till they are gone.
“I work on, nor heed its lay, Till, in neglect, it flies away.” My attitude has been “too deep engaged” to give heed to the blessings that are constantly around me.
This is where I thought more of Charlotte’s writing on the Conscience (p.330):
“‘I am, I ought, I can, I will.‘ –‘I am, I ought, I can, I will’ — these are the steps of that ladder of St Augustine, whereby we ‘rise on stepping-stones Of our dead selves to higher things.”
“‘I am’ — We have the power of knowing ourselves. ‘I ought’ — we have within us a moral judge, to whom we feel ourselves subject, and who points out and requires of us our duty. ‘I can’ — we are conscious of power to do that which we perceive we ought to do. ‘I will’ — we determine to exercise that power with a volition which is in itself a step in the execution of that which we will. Here is a beautiful and perfect chain.”
Isn’t it amazing how much of CM’s writings actually calls us to “higher things”? I am aware of my habit of sourness; I ought to have a sweet, even temper with thankfulness for my blessings; I can grow in my habit of sweetness and thankfulness; I will grow it.
Now, on to give myself some tangible ways to work on that habit. And, time to go back to the garden for a little more magic from the sun, wind, and garden.
A Little Golden Thread 