Author Archives: Shannon


About Shannon

Alaskan homeschooling mama of eight sweet kids. Loves Jesus, writing, coffee, Dickens, and snapping a kitchen towel at my husband when he's not looking.

words, foreign & domestic

Posted on by May 31, 2023

We started a new routine around here last winter. While Vin puts the little boys to bed, Chamberlain grabs The Lord of the Rings and a hairbrush, and I read aloud while she brushes my hair. A few pages later, Vin comes back downstairs and listens in until I get to the next stopping point.

It’s been a beautiful, blissful way to wind down at the end of the day.

Until suddenly, it wasn’t.

words, foreign and domestic: territory that changes us

Suddenly, I couldn’t handle the slightest snag from the hairbrush. I was too tired to read or hold the book. Doing one more thing at the end of the day, even a relaxing thing like reading, was just one thing too many. Maybe several things too many.

At first I thought it was okay. Just normal mom stuff; we know what it is to live without sleep and to push our bodies further than we think we can go. But when several issues compounded and the pain got so bad it made my heart race, it was clear I needed to make an appointment.

So I went to the ANP with my list of woes. She listened, poked and prodded, and asked all the questions before concluding that I was dangerously sleep deprived and possibly dealing with an autoimmune disorder. She used words like “worried” (referring to her) and “shutting down” (referring to me) and “stubborn” (also me).

Her main recommendation was to do whatever it takes to start getting enough sleep again. And to help facilitate that, she had some other ideas.

You’re not gonna like this, she said: A 30-day paleo reset, and start weaning the baby. And she was right, I didn’t like either of them, but they both resonated with what’s going on, so, whatever. She also gave me a couple of supplements and some referrals for follow up, including labs and imaging. And just for kicks, bless her heart, she suggested other things too — but she used that word “stubborn” again (twice!) and admitted I probably wouldn’t even consider them. And she was right on that, too.

So I went home with the notes and the supplements and the packet of paleo information. A quick glance informed me that it meant no grains, no dairy, no sugar, no prisoners.

And then I dumped everything on the counter and made myself a quesadilla.

Which I ate while nursing the baby.

I told myself it was okay though, because the quesadilla had fermented jalapeños (See? Veggies and probiotics!) and I wasn’t starting yet, anyway. I’d start the whole shebang for reals in a couple of days, to give me time to get out the month’s newsletter and mentally prepare for what I was getting myself into.

“And now leave me in peace for a bit! I don’t want to answer a string of questions while I am eating. I want to think!”

“Good Heavens!” said Pippin. “At breakfast?”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

For now, I would just read the paleo guidelines. I grabbed the packet from the counter and noticed it already had a smear of something on the back of it. I looked closer and realized it was cream sauce. Perfect.

The packet said yes to all the meats, yes to all fruits, yes to all vegetables. But wait – what’s this, special notes for autoimmune issues? No eggs, no nightshades.

What the heck is a nightshade, I thought.

It sounded like something out of Middle Earth, along with all of Tolkiens’s other unfamiliar words, like fen, tussock, sloe, dingle. That world isn’t an unfamiliar landscape to me – this is my fifth venture into Middle Earth – but the language continues to stretch me. Sward, eyot, wythe. Or turves, which isn’t so unfamiliar once you realize it’s the plural of turf; or meads, which is generally paired with “rolling.” Rolling meads. So, fields. Ahh, meads, like meadows. Gotcha.

I’m still not sure if some of the words are mythical – a whortle-berry? Is that real? Mallorn, athelas? Living in Alaska my entire life, there are plenty of names I’ve only heard of but never experienced – things like crepe myrtle, palmetto, full-service gas station.

We have our own landscape and language: tundra, birch, lupine, forget-me-not, cheechako, bunny boots. And places, too – instead of Lothlorien, we have Hatcher Pass; instead of the Rauros and the Withywindle, we have the Matanuska, Knik (pronounced “kuh-nik”), and Kenai Rivers. This is the language I know.

But no, I searched the internet, and nightshades are not from Middle Earth. Turns out, nightshades is actually code for All The Veggies That Shannon Likes Best.

Including jalapeños. Blankety blank.

So for the last several weeks I’ve been eating all the right things (except for my morning latte, which we won’t talk about), taking my supplements, drinking a ton of water, and taking in the Word however I can. And He’s been speaking to me about some new ways to do it.

The drink was like water…the effect of the draught began at the toes, and rose steadily through every limb, bringing refreshment and vigour as it coursed upwards, right to the tips of the hair.

– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

A year ago He asked me to start praying online, but now He’s asking me to read the Word – not just quietly to myself, but aloud to whoever will listen online. And like last time, I put it off because I wasn’t sure how to do it. Finally I clearly heard Him say, Just start doing it, and I’ll show you how. So I did, and He is.

Will I edit the video and make it fancy? Nope. Will I mispronounce names? Yes, unapologetically, and I’ll have fun doing it. Will I brush my hair beforehand? If past performance is any indication of future success, um…the odds aren’t very good.

But the Word is powerful, and the spoken Word is even more so, and God uses the enemy’s tactics against him in beautiful, ironic justice. When the CEOs of social media use their profits to fund or further the enemy’s agendas, what better way to respond than use those platforms to share God’s word?

All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work.

– 2 Timothy 3:16-17, ESV

I started about a week ago. Meanwhile, my imaging results came back clear and the labs ruled out autoimmune disorders, praise God.

Health and hope grew strong in them, and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.

– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

This is beautiful news, not only because YAY, one less diagnosis, but also because I can eat nightshades and eggs again.

I’ve discovered that the way to appreciate a 30-day paleo reset is to spend the first two-thirds of that time fasting from nightshades, and then celebrating with the most amazing hashbrowns ever, complete with fried egg, mushrooms, and aioli.

And, in case aioli is unfamiliar to you, it’s just a little mayo mixed with an acid and herbs, in a million variations – vinegar, lemon, lime, cilantro, sriracha, garlic, swoon. My favorite is with lemon, cayenne (hello, you beautiful nightshade, you!) and dill.

So, Aioli – I’m pretty sure it’s Italian for “forgot to buy salad dressing.” And now you can add that to your vocabulary, too.

being the bride: how the church is equipped for battle

Posted on by October 5, 2023

Maybe like you, during the beginning of the Covid mayhem I went for weeks without seeing anyone outside my immediate family. But then the joke was over, the jig was up — and in a span of 48 hours, four different people stopped by the Lighthouse to either borrow books, return books, or purchase books.

One of those friends also dropped off a little bag of chocolates, at which point the sun broke through the clouds and angels started singing, almost.

being the bride: how the church is equipped for battle in the midst of the wilderness

I ate one of the chocolates at my desk that afternoon. Then, in the spirit of (cough) research, I tried another one to properly compare the varieties. And that one had almonds – and I thought, well, yes, I could use more protein right now.

So there went the neighborhood.

I’ve gone days, weeks, months, whole seasons without chocolate or any kind of sugar. But this wasn’t one of those seasons. Nope, this season was a weird one, when we all fasted from a bunch of things, but sugar probably wasn’t one of them.

We fasted from friends. From gatherings. From normal activities, from typical routines and appointments and meetings. From running to the grocery store whenever we felt like it for whatever we needed. And we didn’t really know where this was going, or when the fast would be over.

I called Grandma to check in on her, and she was good – watching for moose, watching the news, and watching her cat, mostly. Her church is small and doesn’t have online services, and she missed people.

“I haven’t seen your dad in ages,” she said. “He came by the other day to drop off fuel, but he didn’t come in. Just put the receipt in the door.” (Did I mention she misses people?)

“Grandma…he can’t visit with you,” I reminded her. “He can’t expose you to anything he might’ve been around.”

“Well, I know that,” she scoffed, “but I’d rather visit!” She’s super cute. She’s also totally related to my girls; I heard both Cham and Iree in her frustration.

She told me about quarantines when she was young. They were different, of course; you might say they were actually constitutional. They were specified to certain families and households, not a global lockdown that convinced, coerced, or manipulated everyone into house arrest. In the early ’40s when she was ten, Grandma’s family was quarantined because she had scarlatina.

“They put a big red sign on the door, telling people to stay away. I don’t think they do that anymore.”

Nope, they just tell us all to stay home, and nobody comes close enough to see a sign. But I thought of the red ribbon we tacked to our front door that year – maybe you hung one, too – for Passover and Easter. It, too, was a sign of sorts, representing the protection of the Lord from destruction.

And that is the season we are still in: a season of rest, protection, and healing. Of quiet waiting. Of trusting in the Lord’s covering and guidance, watching for His direction, and wondering what is coming next.

For the Israelites, what happened next was the Exodus. And here’s what happened:

When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was near. For God said, “Lest the people change their minds when they see war and return to Egypt.” 

– Exodus 13:17, ESV

God didn’t show them the easy way out. He knew better.

But He didn’t only do it because the Israelites would’ve returned to slavery. And He didn’t only do it because the Israelites would’ve cowered from the war ahead.

He did it because they were called to something much bigger than they imagined, and they needed to learn how to live up to it.

But God led the people around by the way of the wilderness toward the Red Sea. And the people of Israel went up out of the land of Egypt equipped for battle.

– Exodus 13:18, ESV

They needed to learn who (and Who) they were dealing with. They needed to learn that children of God are a force to be reckoned with, not slaves to the expectations of others – or, sometimes worse, their own expectations. Sometimes our expectations are far too low.

This solitude from gathering for those weeks (or for some, months) was like a fast, realigning us, walking us through a wilderness that forced us to seek Him for direction. We can’t do things the way we’ve always done. In many ways, that is bringing long-needed correction.

How will we work without our office and coworkers? How will we learn without the school and the systems? How will we find information when we know we can’t trust the media?

How will we be the church outside the building?

We can rest and surrender, or push fruit and strive – but only one equips us for battle.

We talk a lot about “being the church” and yes, we need to be the church. But we don’t have to spend so much time thinking about how to be the church if we just focus on being the Bride, with our eyes on Him instead of trying to recreate the way we’re used to doing things. “Being the church” tends to move our focus outward: creating (or re-creating) programs, meetings, events, and those are all good things. But they are not the cornerstone; they are extra stones. They aren’t foundational, they are auxiliary.

It reminds me of when I first started homeschooling our oldest. We called it “homeschooling” but we weren’t truly homeschooling at all, because all I had ever known was public school. And that’s what we did at home: we re-created public schooling, from home. It sucked. It was not true homeschooling.

We didn’t start truly homeschooling until I got comfortable enough to buck all the preconceived ideas I had about how school ought to look and just start enjoying learning with our kids. Because school wasn’t the point; education was. And I was missing the forest for the trees.

If we just tweak our routines and programs rather than surrender entirely to what He is prompting us toward, we might be doing the same thing. We cannot be equipped for battle if we’re clinging so tightly to old ways that we cannot catch onto the new thing God is telling us to do.

And it’s hard; it takes time to learn new ways, to rip out old work. But it takes way more time to keep pushing through on something that bears fruit at 10% when it should be bearing fruit at 100%.

It takes even more time when we realize that we should’ve spent that time and effort in an entirely different direction. The best time to obey is when God first tells us. The second best time to obey is right now.

God led the Israelites – just like He’s leading us – by a winding way so they would start walking in their identity instead of returning to slavery. It was for their protection that they didn’t know where they were going. “Lest the people change their minds” – He still protects us from knowing what we can’t handle. The unknowing is for our good, and we can rest in that as long as our eyes are on Him first.

People notice the church being the church all the time. But they will stop what they’re doing to watch the church who is being the Bride, because the Bride knows who she is – protected, obedient, and surrendered, but she’s also equipped for battle.

working too hard: a gentle reminder to parents & schools

Posted on by September 13, 2021

Dear schools,

In the most gentle, loving way I can possibly say this: Lay off.

I’m not talking to individual teachers. Several of my loved ones are teachers who have scrambled to balance the needs of their students with the dictates of the schools, administrators, and governments they work for – no easy task. It’s no secret that those needs and dictates aren’t always in complement, and the teachers are stuck in the middle.

working too hard: a gentle reminder to parents and schools during quarantine

And some schools are doing a beautiful job of supporting their parents, students, and families with flexibility, tact, and grace. I’m not talking to those schools, either.

I am saying this to the system as a whole who, in some cases, is dictating and assigning “requirements” to parents and children at an alarming and irresponsible rate. So – administrators, schools, and bureaucrats, with as much grace and love as I can muster:

You all need to knock it off. You’re working too hard, and in many cases you’re asking parents to work too hard, also.

Parents have so much on their plates right now without the added reams of paperwork, assignments, instructions, zoom calls, emails, google hangouts, and other virtual meetings you are giving them to replicate the work you would normally have their kids do in school.

A parent’s job has never been, and is not now, to replicate what schools do with children.

Ideas and resources are wonderful. Offering livestream or mobile support is great. But telling parents they are “required” (oh really?) to give spelling tests and math quizzes and dozens of assignments per day…is not.

Most parents have more than one child in the system. And most of those children have more than one teacher at school. Not one of those classes or teachers are the center of the child’s educational universe.

Parents of just two or three kids are getting upwards of fifty emails a day. I have one friend whose children have no less than a dozen daily zoom meetings. I have other friends with little kids – we’re talking kindergarteners and first graders – who have been given so many instructions and assignments and “requirements” (that word is in quotes on purpose) that it’s delusional.

These schools – and yes, some individual teachers – are revealing a grossly overinflated sense of their own importance. At the same time, they’re exposing a grossly underinflated understanding of both education and priorities in this time of crisis. It is utterly misguided.

Here’s the truth: Parents have known how to teach their children long before schools came along to make them feel they were unqualified to do it.

All this busywork may be well intended. Or, it may be meant to further press home the message that many schools have always given parents: You don’t know what you’re doing with your kids. Let us tell you what to do.

And maybe some parents are believing that message more than ever, while also trying to juggle suddenly working from home, suddenly dealing with new routines, suddenly losing their jobs, suddenly missing out on normal activities, and suddenly being low on toilet paper or other basics.

But maybe other parents are realizing that schools were never very good at replacing parents in the first place.

Maybe there are parents out there who are suddenly seeing the absolute waste of time all the busywork is. Maybe there are parents who would rather just read to their kids, or teach them to garden, or show them how to balance the checkbook. Maybe there are parents who could get more of their own work done with less stress and still have the presence of mind to play a game with their kids during the day if they weren’t so exhausted and stressed out from the added burden of schools presuming to tell them what to do…and how to do it…and when to do it…and how often.

I’m not saying that schools don’t have their place. I’m saying that the home is not one of them.

Further burdening parents in a time of crisis is not one of them.

Telling parents what to do with their children as though the schools make the requirements and rules is not one of them.

Consuming the time of families and dictating the schedules of much of their day is not one of them.

The schools that are doing this have forgotten their place. To clarify, here it is:

Schools work for the parents. Not the other way around.

And the only way for schools to work with families and help them through this time of crisis is to take a step back and remember that.

Kudos to the schools, teachers, and administrators who are doing that. Bless you.

But parents, if you’re dealing with the other kind of schools? Remember, they work for you. You know your kids better than they do. You make the rules for your kids and your family.

And if you need to trash the busywork, skip the tests, play hooky for a while, and just take some time to get your feet under you as we all navigate this season, do it.

Your kids might forget half the stuff they did in school before Spring Break, but they’ll never forget living through this.

Your kids are learning every day. Probably more than you realize, and definitely more than you give yourself credit for. They are learning from you, from the world around them, and from the atmosphere you create in your home. This has always been the case.

_____

Parents, want this reminder somewhere you can see it often? Download a free printable bookmark here and free printable 5×7 here.

your kids are learning every day