Devil

I watched the M.Night Shyamalan movie "Devil" last night.  For a bloody thriller, it sure had a potent and valuable ending, and sure gave me some bizarre dreams.  These images are relative.  And their relativity to Sirius and my family?  Well, I have gotten this far because of love - and love enables us to forgive.  Anywhere I 'get' in life is through love.  Love is and will be fueling that old bus, and there is and will be steady need to forgive, in small simple ways and in cases of egregious.  The conversion and journey are as much spiritual and personal as they are tangible and physical.  With each afternoon of work, late night of writing, and each revolution of those huge tires I will be inspecting my heart and head and hands, clearing the way for love through many methods, including the expedient process of forgiveness.

Why Waldorf

I will tell you why.  When I only had one child, Mercury was 2 and my husband and I went to see "Bowling for Columbine" in the theater in New Mexico.  I was a new mother and could not see beyond the name, and we both agreed our children would be home schooled, and I was more then happy to oblige to that responsibility.  After all, I wanted nothing then to be with my baby constantly - why should I believe it would ever change?

Enter into the time at which Mercury, the oldest, should begin kindergarten.  I had heart failure, a 6 month old nursing son, a three year old son, and no husband, job, or income.  Homeschooling went out the window.  By the time first grade was beginning, the family unit was giving a good try at being cohesive, and there was some income of sorts, so I pulled her out and taught at home.  I began with nothing - some old hand-me-down texts from my mom - a high school teacher - some relevant, some not - a lot of crayons and imagination.  We learned all sorts of things in this fashion, never buying any curriculum, no website handouts or schedules.  By the end of the year, the marriage had completely broken up for good and the children and I went to live with my grandmother, with severe Alzheimer's.  I was to take care of her, which helped everyone out temporarily.  Well, I say that, but I'm still living in her house.  It was one of those miraculous coincidences, that was actually more a miracle. . .

So now, I have an income, and that's about all I can speak for.  There is no time as our lives revolve around keeping the peace and a strict schedule to appease my grandma.  Samson was wearing cloth diapers, I was still weak from cardiomyopathy, Bunny fought with Samson and despaired that I was her late husband's mistress and we were sleeping together upstairs every night (there is no upstairs), the police would be called once a month. . . so what about Mercury's education??

I visited the local school - where they attend now - but compared to the freedom and attention and tailoring that was possible with what we had been doing, besides the real food I served, the comfortable environment making learning easier and more pleasant, the availability to all sorts of other groups and activities due to the flexibility of our schedule - oh, and no germ warfare constantly. . . oh, it was like a hell to me.  The white walls, the sick kids, the stale air, the wasteful time. . . I said "no, I can finish this year out just fine at home."  And then we adopted the 'un-schooling' method, before I even knew something like what we were doing had a name.

Mercury entered into second grade at that school the next year because I needed to go to work during the day (and the night).  A week later I was called for a meeting with the principal - they wanted to move her to third grade.  They wanted to know what I had used, what curriculum I had purchased!  She tested on a near genius level and was enrolled in a gifted program once a week.  She had already made friends in the class and being smallish also, did not feel comfortable being with older children.  The younger we get, the more significant the years can be in differences. . .

She finished the year by going to third grade for reading and being a helper.  When third grade came, she had already finished that curriculum, so, at 8 years old, she finished all the Harry Potter series, the Narnia Chronicles, and the majority of Hank the Cow Dog books.  To test her understanding, she was given computer tests on each book and always made 100.

And that concludes the boasting, but really, this isn't about my daughter being so bright - it's simple to me - ALL kids, ALL people have this wonderful potential and we are robbed of it early on, very early on, and by well meaning folks.

We ALL learn by doing, no matter if your method is better by reading, you can't admit you don't learn anything by just experiencing.  You would need to consciously TRY to NOT learn while you were riding a horse or building a chicken coop or planting a garden.  It just happens, 'we learn something new everyday'.

I would have no problem incorporating - if you can incorporate such a laid back attitude of learning into a schedule - un-schooling into our lives on the road, but there is just so much I want them to know, and so much we need to learn together, that I decided to purchase a curriculum, but a very open, flowing, creative one - I found Waldorf.

I know it's wikipedia, kinda lame, but it's a fair summary

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waldorf_education

I need our expectantly un-hinged, feral lifestyle to also hold onto a thread of continuity, some form of same, schedule, expectation in the form of staying with the same subject matter.  There's no doubt I could utilize all the things we will be experiencing and see the science, social studies, language, math, art, music, PE, foreign language, religious and spiritual studies, home economics in them - and all the many sub-categories, as well as, well, field trips.  I'm 110% certain the children would test to the top level for any state's development criteria after all that.

BUT!  Saying all that, as aforementioned, I need some continuous harmony to the unpredictability of our lives and journey.  I will let those who are un-familiar with Waldorf and Rudolph Steiner visit the link or research it yourselves - I cannot properly summarize the philosophy, but I know that it is what we need, our specific family.

This is the company I would like to use for material.
http://www.christopherushomeschool.org/home.html

We have been in dialog but they cannot offer any financial assistance at this time.
So. . . something to think about.  Samson will not require a curriculum, but Ezekiel and Mercury, in addition to continuing in Cub and Girl scouts on their own, will require at least some minimal materials, including a syllabus for the year - 2nd and 5th grades.  This is my prayer.  Or if that prayer tells me 'no', then I'll opt to teach Mercury to drive the bus and Ezekiel to fix diesel engines, Samson can model.  Life skills.  (Just kidding)

The Positivity of Negativity

We all need balance.  Every place you are able to peer into, every aspect of every Thing requires balance.  Today is a level morning, surprised at how early I rose, seeing the oldest two off on the bus and having to let Samson skip school since he is too young to ride the bus and obviously I have no car for awhile.  I thought about lying back down while Samson slept in, but instead I naturally began picking up the pieces (literally - there was a broken bowl from last night on the living room floor) from the heavy previous evening and made some strawberry juice with ginger and apple. . . and from such a seemingly disasterous incident has come a steady wave of inspiration and faith in getting out and taking this journey, though it seems implausible at this junction.

Here's the breakdown - I get a meager amount of welfare assistance in the form of food stamps, which needs to be supplemented by about $400 a month in cash for me.  Work, which is seasonal, resumed, but Friday I had zero tables and Saturday I decided instead of paying the sitter money I wouldn't make, I called out.  It never makes sense to pay to work. . . I have however begun a cleaning/nanny type job, um, yesterday, but obviously won't be going for a few more days.  Now the EPA wants the money I've set aside for the solar panels (the very last of tax refund money, which I've been humbly living off of), when in reality, some of that money needs to go to the car repair and to replace lost income with the loss of work. . . Negativity, and if I weren't fasting, I would, right now, be nursing a headache from a bit too much rum last night.  But I'm not, I didn't, I won't - I'm confident that my God just had to see how much faith I really have.  On paper, this entire idea seems impossible, and even what I've done so far seems impossible - the conversion itself is such a gigantic task, huge demand on my time, patience, finances (what finances?) and ability to learn new things while handling this household solo, it just seems stupid.  But only every so often, only for moments at a time do I even dare question - there is no plan B, there can't be.

Without having to hold my pauper's hand out in silent pity, I will take the risk to list all that I need assistance with presently, knowing I may not even know my own needs, and that all will be provided. . .
 

• A 'scholarship' for Ezekiel and Mercury in the form of Waldorf homeschool curriculum.  I have tried to secure donations straight from the sources, but they are in the same boat as I, and recommended I ask individuals for help
• Stainless steel camping bowls and plates for four
• old RV sink and water tank
• full size futon mattress for my loft
• barrels or drums to hold used veggie oil
• tank to be used to hold veggie oil
• monetary donations to help the remainder of conversion purchases, which are. . .

1. Solar panels
2. 2 car batteries for the solar power
3. paneling for walls
4. engine conversion 
5. new glow plugs
6. wood for bunks and couch
7. window replacement
8. security - locks and surveillance camera
9. rocket mass heater

There are a few more little things, but these are the things highlighted in my mind.  I have been blessed to be allowed by the help of many, to get so far.  Out of this negative hole, we look up and see the positive space which allows that hole to even exist and find we are able to climb right out.

Will the EPA and an old Mac keep us home-bound?

This evening someone lost a section of exhaust pipe on a busy avenue in my little town.

They left it there, which happened to become my lane, and the Universe declared that at that very moment when I had decided to straddle the hunk of metal with my low-riding ol' 1992 Civic, that an SUV would pass me on the left, giving me no other choice then to roll over the metal, clipping it with my tire and shooting it straight into my gas tank, where it smartly tore a 4 inch gash.  I cursed, then apologized to the boys, whose anything but virgin ears at the receiving end of a frequently frazzled parent, did not flinch, but accepted the apology.

I was sure the tire had been burst, but no, no loss of control or *pop* or swerving, but wow there had been an impressive impact somewhere, and I realized in about 5 more seconds that it had impressively impaled the fuel tank, and with the smell of gas filling the car I rolled down the windows and Samson shouted, "No - I like that smell!"

As it were, I was seconds from the intersection that would lead me into "Super" Wal-mart's lot, and, as it were, I hit the yellow light.  I opened my door to see $40 of the freshly filled gas gushing out into traffic like, well, like gushing water.  I turned left, the needle slipping down down into slumber, reminding me of the scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom when they are trapped without parachutes in an airplane over the Himalayas, and the fuel tank is draining, the pilots jumped, and chickens in the background.  It was a similar scene today.

I got the boys out - Mercury was with a friend riding horses - and subtly cried, telling some teenagers retrieving carts what had happened and they will need  "alot of sand."  There was nothing to be done about the gasoline - anything I may have had to catch it was in the trunk, which was now impossible to reach without standing in a puddle of gas - didn't seem prudent to me.  In hindsight, I should have called the fire department, but I was upset and shocked and angry, and I thought sand would do it all over nicely.  We went in the store and used the restrooms, got some crackers, and met up with my friend who had Mercury and agreed to take us home.  She informed me of the scene outside - quite a scene for our quaint town. . .

Two fire engines and a police vehicle surrounded my car and about ten officials were perusing the parameters apparently looking for clues or something.  It topped my embarrassment over parking in a large mud-pit Saturday night at the infamous Carter Family Fold, thinking (in the rain and dark) that it was gravel.  Four grown men ended up with some European style mud treatments that night.  I told each one specifically that I had never been stuck in snow or mud, and never had run out of gas in my life.  For this I was proud.  Mercury informed me tonight that now, I have officially been stuck in the mud AND ran out of gas.  Funny girl.

The worst - since it was a full tank of gas - the EPA was called, from 2 hours away, to cleanup the mess and forward me the bill, since it was 'my fault'.  Somewhere in the range of $2500 or better.  We'll see, we'll see.

So, is this Divine intervention to steer me away from leaving, or a test of Faith in that I should just relax and be thankful that we didn't blow up, or anyone else didn't blow up while we dazed around Wally World looking at the plastic fantastics?  And how about my external hard-drive being corrupt last night?  About 20,000 photos gone or unable to open, and my frail frail iBook let me know this morning that my startup disk is full - but I dare not transfer it to the external HD for fear of losing all this, too.  I freaked out, for about 5 minutes. . .

Then I was humbled and quieted and reassured as I drew near to the Truth that we are All alright - the solar panels may need to wait, my new job today will need to wait or I'll lose it and gain another means, my car may need to wait, and maybe I. . .need to wait, be still, and know all the peace and strength and moments of truth will come when ready. . .maybe, and when I write 'maybe', I mean absolutely, that this was a Humbling, a Blessing, a benign exercise, a test and encouragement of Trust, and I am utterly thankful and, even with a big ol' bill coming in the mail that will be at least 5 times the cost of my car, I can honestly say, no, no, no one thing, no one accident, no one will keep me off my path, and I am glad for the drill.

Thanks EPA for making it so difficult, for rising the stress levels, because, like aerobic exercise, you only get stronger when you are stressed. . .

The re-birthing of Spirit, Body and Bus

March 21, was the first day of Spring, officially, and it couldn't have been a more synchronous beginning in  my world.

There is an idea that is coming to Life outside, the big white bus I touch everyday, there are my children - all recently aged by a year, there is newness all around, there is a spiritual renewal, there are babies being birthed. . .

In accordance with the sacrifice of the Lenten season, the kids and I have simplified our diets and subsequently my budget by resolving not to eat out for the forty day season, and I have made a more drastic promise - a 14 day live juice fast.  Beginning on the arrival of the season of birth, re-birth, renewal, forgiveness, Life .  .  . I'm on the late side of day 7.

As I have waded through the first week of cravings and stumblings and grumpiness - also clarity, strength, and empathy - I have also had the lucidity of realizing the comparison of new, real, lasting change in myself - my spiritual and physical and mind-self - and that of an old school bus from middle Tennessee.

Last Sunday Matthew and his daughter and my kids drove 30 minutes away to collect some bones from a dumping ground behind a railway yard.  Someone gutted several deer there and left the bones, obviously for me to pick up.  I found them last year on another Sunday afternoon drive.  Not out of morbidity, nor anything dark, but out of respect and awe of the life we are given, the life all around, I collected these simple remains of such beautiful and simple creatures.  I have ideas of bones on the bus - I need something of God's with us, not to be surrounded by the wasteful and tacky stuff of man exclusively.  Mercury isn't keen on the idea, but we'll see how much I can explain to her.  We are a parting-from-the-normal-ideals family after all.

This bus, Sirius, has been given new life.  A completely different one.  So have I, so have you.  How many lives do we live?  I have never been so acutely aware of the virgin elements that each springtime bring.  It is overpowering with potential and hope, nay, faith.  Hope is not necessary where there is Faith, and Faith is the one thing I thrive on.

So as of tonight - wire is all pulled, contact with the solar power man in Florida - purchase pending - floor completely varnished (and I'm not doing it anymore!), getting the back door measured tomorrow to replace glass broken from a storm last summer, waiting on recruits to spray in foam insulation from the sweet people at Foam It Green - http://www.sprayfoamdirect.com/ - and a feature article in the Johnson City Press, and a whole lot of laundry, even more dishes, baby-sitting, doula-ing, cooking for the kids, juicing for myself and coaching Matthew in his first fast, praying, yard work with the weather, and trying to figure out how all this is going to work with my funds while maintaining that Faith-based attitude, or just a PMA in general (positive mental attitude).  Also reading Gandhi's Passion by Stanley Wolpert (http://www.politicalreviewnet.com/polrev/reviews/PECH/R_0149_0508_159_1004330.asp), broke myself in a community Kung Fu class at church, learning daily of communities abounding with Idea and Love and Truth - http://www.larcheusa.org/ in particular, also attended a meeting of others at my home church interested in exploring community more deeply last week - which opened up several avenues of discussion between myself and others who have lived in intentional communities, spurring on such networking with very little effort - it's in moments such as those when I realize that I cannot turn back now and decide that that career in business or nursing or searching out a good husband (reverting back to Little Women era, which me and my little woman watched together tonight) was actually much more of a sensible route. . .the door has been opened, and I find myself outside deep in the woods, but on the path nonetheless.

I have no doubt or fear of this Idea that is nothing new, being birthed.  When Emily was in labor, when I was in labor, when we all were in labor, we want to hold back and refuse to accept the power that lies in us to birth new life.  I find myself holding back from fear of the power that is fueling my new life, the kids' new lives as ambassadors, servants, companions, students.  But no matter how much I try to hold back or stop gaining ground, situations and opportunities and people are left on my doorstep in little baskets, with little notes pinned to the satin lining - "I am yours".

You can share in our faith, too, even if yours is only hope for now.  Let the baby grass under your softened winter feet convince you of the better days that are promised, soon.

Inspiration

http://enchantedgypsies.blogspot.com/

This is a couple whom I've been following for probably a couple of years.  I am borrowing a few things from their floor plan for Sirius - the wooden bookshelves above the windows, the mosaic fire wall (but I have bottle caps instead of tiles - cheaper and meaningful - reminds me of friendships and sharing), and the rear loft in lieu of a 'room'.  These photos also inspired me to go with real wood instead of laminate.  Am I ever thankful for that choice!

Their bus is also run on veggie oil, though they have opted for "settling down" now that they have a child.

A friend also directed me to this woman -

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/03/10/carey-fuller-chronicles-h_n_834351.html

it's interesting, and I should read the book, my only critique is that at first she had a mini Winnebago, and isn't that a home?  America has some pretty strange definitions of homeless, and society has held us to these notions that downcast us, bound us and anchored us to poverty and more and more - that we have nothing when really - wow - we have everything if we could only accept that.  According to this article,  I'm voluntarily going 'homeless'.

No wonder my mom initially thought the idea was 'trashy'.

I had no idea - to me, to live like Jesus - simply, honestly, accepting the graciousness of others as we too give our own gifts, in our Home the Earth, always with a roof available and a place to lay down our heads and walls to hold back the winds - well, I'm not sure I can agree totally in the definition of homelessness.  But of course, that is NOT the point - the point is it's almost impossible to rise up sometimes.  That just because there is a middle class in America it's all ok, and that the ones in extreme poverty have committed some sort of act of either stupidity or ignorance or laziness over and over.  That is simply not true!  We need a community to not only hold out their hand to pull us up, but to truly empathize and become who we are.  When you are comforting your child with a skinned knee, don't you crouch down to her level?  When you pray with a sick man don't you sit on the edge of the bed and understand?  When you watch the news don't you cry with the people?

The welfare system belittles us.  Say all you will about the abuse of it - there is plenty - but as for me and my ten year experience - let's just say, more on that later.  I have quite a lot of writing to catch up on. . .later.

her blog on being a homeless mother of 2, living out of a mini-van now

http://invisibull.wordpress.com/

For me, there is blessing and peace in the simplicity.  I definitely understand the struggle to reach that security, and the need for a new community,  I would only add my bit - a change in consciousness to our situation during which we are actively making a real, positive change in it.  We are all blessed.  I think for the impoverished, it is much easier for us to see the blessings.


"It starts at home," she advises, "so take care of your relatives. Take care of your communities. Support your community first, donate to the food bank or to the homeless shelter ... If a collective gets together they can make change. That is what this is all about."


~Carey Fuller

Reply: Politics

A reply to a friend passing along some information, and my straightforward, albeit heartfelt, letter back. . .Thanks David for provoking some clarity within me. . .

"thanks for the offer of assistance and the link - no, I have not seen that particular information but I am keenly aware of all the hypocrisy and voluntary blindness we take part in, willingly or otherwise. . .

yet!

I was once younger and much involved in movements of 'freedom' and freedom through empowering ourselves with information.  With more knowledge, I became wildly un-enthusiastic and really just dis-illusioned by it all, dropping out, and now there has come to light something that seems the core and center of us all - a simple loving life to be led, no matter what power man might try to have over any man, only God/spirit/universe (and for the atheist, well, we're SOL ) truly has that power - life.  We have seen it in places in the world that are as conniving and controlling, just more openly - the true individual spirit soaring against all human power struggle.  

I'm definitely not arguing the points made (haven't watched the entire thing) and also not choosing to turn a blind eye, but rather to focus my energy towards things more powerful, things un-attainable or controllable by man. . .the spirit, once again.  Everywhere you look long and deep enough, man is screwed.  The USA is screwed.  We are just inherently born screwed, individually.  Then comes the control factor - I see it in the 4 day old infant I held tonight - demands are made and met, but this is OK because it is all done in love.  As we age we don't balance that love, and control morphs into things like laws and death.  

I cannot change this nation.  If I did - if we did - it would surely evolve into another system of control until we take control of ourselves, the individual.  Is anyone - you or I - strong enough? 

To take this question deeper, I look into the simplistic, which reverts us back into the infant, his mother allowing his control - out of love.  Are we allowing a military state and tax $'s (dollars that don't exist by definition!) to fund atrocities out of love?  If any man can say yes to this it is pure blasphemy!  yes!  But, I know no other way then love.  There are plenty of great people making great statements, and I applaud them all - but the one point I must stop at in the film is that we don't own anything.  I agree.  Of course, the government is saying that WE don't own anything, but really, let's go simply again, and stress that No One owns anything, except ourselves.  I know we could argue that point and I'm sure I would if they seized my bus, but from a spiritual point of view, well, I teach my children that they own nothing either.  It sucks when the bully comes up and takes your lunch money, or in our times, your new Pokemon cards, but really, principles aside (and I do realize you're talking principles, but I'm talking bigger picture) let Caesar have what it 'his'! If he's gonna be the Bully.  And he'll die like the rest of us, with nothing.

The point that I'm really getting at is that, try as we may to make this a beautiful, equal, and happy town, state, nation, world - well, it's not going to happen. Things begin at the beginning. We are born with love.  It is given to us a power to love.  As little tiny individuals, we can use it or allow others to lead us into fear and control and darkness.  For me and my children, we will not go into this Life as slaves, nor as the extreme movement trying to take back an imaginary control over material things, merely a war of power.  We will go into Life as vessels of Love that is in the gift of Self from God.  

I have studied many a good thing gone wrong.  Most recently the People's Temple.  Whoa.  A blatant example of love overcome by control.  Breaks my heart.  Even on such a miniture scale as a parent and child, up to a nation, and now this global nation I see approaching. . .there is a movement of freedom, and it's simple, it's perfect, it's probably not do-able, and it's relentlessly hippie - Love.  Revolution on the home front.  

"The spirit of political and international liberty is universal and, it may even be said, instinctive...The attainment of freedom, whether for a man, a nation or the world, must be in exact proportion to the attainment of non-violence by each...There is no such thing as slow freedom.  Til we are fully free we are all slaves...I want freedom for the full expression of my personality.  I must be free to build a staircase to Sirius if I want to...No action which is not voluntary can be called moral.  So long as we act like machines there can be no question of morality....Freedom is like birth. Till we are fully free, we are slaves....No charter of freedom will be worth looking at which does not ensure the same measure of freedom for the minorities as for the majority....True nonviolence should mean a complete freedom from ill-will and anger and hate and an overflowing love for all....Complete independence does not mean arrogant isolation or a superior disdain for all help....If it is man's (sic) privilege to be independent, it is equally his duty to be inter-dependent.... Any action that is dictated by fear or by coercion of any kind ceases to be moral....Freedom of the individual is at the root of all progress."

~Gandhi

I'm quite certain I've jumped around here, but I trust you gained a little perspective, though reasoning for being in Philadelphia for the fourth of July may have been side-tracked, or even hijacked, by some strong convictions of mine. . .What we came to this land to do and what we've done are 2 starkly different things, no one can argue.  We pillaged and raped and murdered and controlled and destroyed countless souls.  It's my hope that all of them retained their Self in their loss, but we also know that not to be the truth.  May you and I be blessed enough to strengthen ourselves and our brothers and sisters in an earthly endeavor of love for all that it stands for.  It makes things simpler, this revolution. . ."

What I told Oprah

I wrote to Oprah a couple weeks ago.   I had to break this down to 200 characters, but here's what I would have liked to send her. . .

I'm a single mother - me and my three young children are journeying in search of true community and the welfare of humanity.  Looking to begin a revolution on the home-front, parting from the traditional options poor divorced mothers are typically given, and holding strong to the idea of intentional, responsible, progressive, serving, and peaceful communities, we will be documenting throughout the year-long adventure across the US on a converted school bus bought with tax return funds and converted with over 15 months of waitress wages in an environmentally 'green' fashion, using veggie oil to fuel the engine.  I will be home-schooling 3 children, driving, posting camp, repairing engines, interviewing intentional community leaders, gypsies, anyone who is consciously living outside our highly specialized and separated Western lives, and looking for the answer.

I have been a single parent for over 4 years, no weekend visits by the children's father and almost all of the time without any child support.  I have a bachelor's degree in Photography, but since I gave up a career in it in lieu of raising the children, when the divorce suddenly took place I was without viable means to financially support my family.  I have decided to search for a life that will allow me to be involved with my children as all parents should be, single or together - a life that is not career-centered, but family centered - to give opportunity to my children to have not just 'some' semblance of family, but ALL knowledge of, and nothing less.  I have refused to continue living in the shadow of welfare and food stamps and poorly funded public schools, voices telling me I can't do better then this, going back to school again for something in which my heart is not, to give up more time having an influence in my kids' lives in order to not need community.

There is a better way.  I want Oprah to show me interest in order to bring this subject to light.  I am creating a documentary about the year long journey that will begin this summer, 2011, across the country, searching out and learning of real community, real difference, real love, real service.  I believe so many of even our nation's biggest problems can be solved at home, but our system is not set up for that.  Our system has a specialized and ready-made answer for everything.  I believe in the village approach to raising strong loving families, and I am committed to finding that model in as many places that I can, and with the beauty of a grassroots, DIY attitude and budget.  

Edit as we go

The title of this blog and the subsequent film - The Parting Family - is played off The Partridge Family - which I've never seen.  After enduring seemingly humorous comment after seemingly humorous comment all suggesting I paint the bus loudly and teach the kids some musical routine, I buckled under the obvious connection and blatant beloved sarcasm, and I was gifted with the title the Parting Family, as in we are parting from traditional life, but as a family we are together - we are of the world but separate.

And all those who have the need to make comparisons to dated television shows, here is that comforting, similar title in matching colors. . .

more later

I am sitting in a maternity ward, just me and Emily - my friend of 17 years and I, her doula.  Probably about 9cm dilated.  She is resting after an epidural.  It is just her and I.  It is calmly surreal.

Soon I - mother of three naturally-birthed babies - will be blessed to be a part of my first birth other then my own!  I am proud of Emily for making it as far as she did without any medication. . .more on that later.

Ok, it's officially 3 days later - The strength and empowerment of women is a tricky thing - it has so simply become a Thing to be controlled and subdued, buried, denied, disengaged, played-down, and when it comes down to it - ignored.  This is reflected in the surrealism we have at births.  It was a holy affair, but leveled out by the presence of 9 hospital staff, spotlights, drugs, and a male obstetrician who made small talk during one of the most sacred times of Life, downplaying this entire holy process with insane comments - would it be ok to chat idly about Brad Pitt during wedding vows or a funeral or instead of last rites?  The absence of sanctity at birth and during labor is only one stark example of the voluntary surrender of power we allow as women.  As with any birth or death, the spirit cannot be removed, it's impossible, so of course it always remains spiritual, but we have a say in the level of that realization.

Climbing up and down my bus, putting away tools, getting my Commercial Driver's License, knowing what R factors and closed cell means, knowing what the options are for heating the veggie oil in the engine conversion, knowing the specs on my 7.3L Diesel International, knowing where we are going first, knowing I can do all this because I have been doing all this, through God - well, that's empowerment, and the God I know and love is all about that.  He is a strong supporter of strong women - and you know what?  We are all times and times stronger then what we are taught and what we think we believe.

Morning has Broken

Today we begin framing walls with metal studs - lighter, cheaper, stronger, more flexible.  We also have no idea what we're doing - luckily, it seems easy enough.  I am also acquiring new tools daily.  Tin snips yesterday.

Every so often I will meet someone who is especially interested in a school bus conversion.  The man at the building supply yesterday afternoon added to the list of excited supporters, for whatever personal reasons they have.  I allowed the suspense to build, just knowing he was going to spill it - how he had converted his own back in the day - I allowed for him to choose the timing of the news - but he never did!  I'm certain this man has either lived or camped in a bus, and was eager to hear his stories.

We learn sometimes to quiet down and give others space, and then we also learn to speak up and encourage others - to show them we are listening and interested.  I wish I had shown more interest in encouraging his obvious experience - but you know what?  He urged us to give him a call if we had questions putting in the studs.  Heck, I have questions about the tin snips. . .

Today is a good day - I'm stuck on you

“Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody.”  

~Henry Longfellow

The first entry to an account as such that I should have been accounting for since somewhere between two and five years ago, will not be an introduction to the concept that has taken years of Labor to reach the cringing moments leading up to Birth, the transition - instead, a summary of the Weekend. . .
We'll begin at Thursday.  My friend Matthew and I took the batteries from the bus to be charged over-night.  We picked up a fridge that was given to me for the bus.  I bought some more epoxy for the bus window project.  We had dinner at Earth Fare, the local health food store chain - which on Thursday nights has kids eat free. Three kids and one adult eat organically for $5. . why shouldn't that be good news?  Mercury had a friend come home with her and Daniel from church photographed them for a couple of hours after school with a sweet 8x10 camera.
Then.
We get home and Mercury has a fever - 102.6 - out of nowhere.  
Her friend asks me if she can spend tomorrow night, also, because her father (a single parent family) is having open heart surgery and might die.  
Samson wants to sleep with his older brother, but his older brother wants to sleep alone.
Ezekiel has homework he has 'forgotten' to tell me about, at bedtime.
The night ends without tragedy, enter Friday.
Matthew and I finish painting the bus - finally - it has taken nearly 5 months, but all the dehydrated-yellow is finally covered with some glowing white rust-O-leum.  We take it easy with Mercury and the night is un-eventful, save for some thoughts provoked by a documentary on Jim Jones, more on that later.  
Saturday needs to be a day devoted to the bus windows.  I flake and spend the day inside with the kids. . .we go out at night to redeem some coupons for an arcade in the next town over, and indulge at the eatery next door to the arcade, the place that makes "real food".  I have a beer and invite my friend John to indulge me in some distraction or process to relieve the dismay I still carried from knowing so much of The People's Temple history. . . more on that later.
Like a gentle reminder, a signal, a blessing - a man whom I've talked with and have been told to talk to about the bus - runs into us at the restaurant.  This is the second 'reminder', fated meeting, sign from God I've encountered with this certain oft-mentioned individual in one week.  Well, maybe ten days, who's counting?  It served to re-direct my energy towards better things, not failed or mis-led pasts.  Learning from mistakes. . .
Enter Saturday night, I lay restlessly with Samson under the sheet fort I'd built in the living room.  He lay asleep, I watching him amazed that anyone could possibly sleep well in such an environment.  The sleeping bags kept sliding off the sleeping pads, the sleepers kept sliding out of the bags, the pillows.  I was half-conscious when Mercury went to the bathroom and considered not checking on her.  I re-considered and her temperature was 104.7.  I was up all night.
Enter Sunday - on Plan A's agenda was measuring the bus's interior and figuring an amount needed to buy the metal studs for framing on Monday, when Matthew will be available to pick them up in his truck.  
Instead we visit the ER.  Sinus infection.  Then a leisurely tour of the Rite Aid.  Then another nap in the living room fort and alot of lounging.  And dishes.  And I hung up laundry inside.  We have no dryer.  More on that later.  And cooking and lounging and manicures and a shower, more dishes, and everything but anything to do with the bus.  More on that later. . .


The quote at the beginning of this post doesn't deter me, nor waiver or discourage me, or fill me with guilt because looking at the post, at the diary-entry on a blog devoted to The Bus - it doesn't give me much credit at pressing forward on the bus, does it?  Or does it?  Perhaps there's more to this, dear reader, then removing our everyday struggles and conundrums and dramas and blessings from any certain goal or project or game - but the answer, the way, dare I say - the reward - lies in the balance of Life and Life's calling.  Jesus still had to eat and sleep and use the toilet, deal with relationships and money or at least barter in some form.  We can't separate the physical (or the mundane) from the spiritual quest (the Bus, for me and mine).  Not yet.


Welcome to the Parting Family.

Three stark individuals

this is a test

My great friend Casey came over tonight and she is the reason I have a blog now.  This photo was originally meant to be behind the title, but I couldn't figure the sizing, so we successfully entered it here.  This was our low budget, totally love and community based vacation to Edisto Island, SC last summer, thanks to the giant hearts and love of our friends who enabled the trip.  This is walking off the beach the last day.  Thanks Brian and Danielle.