Home Schooling

For the fortnight just passed my youngest son has been suffering attacks at school.  At first the physician thought it was asthma, because the main symptom of the attack was shallow and labored breathing.  But now they medical people are convinced it is panic attacks.   His mother and I have decided to home school him. 

Currently, I go to their house every morning when she leaves for work at seven o’clock, to pray and read the Bible with the boys (we finished the Gospel of Mark today), then I take them to school.  With the new plan, I’ll just take Anselm Samuel to school and begin school lessons with Basil Wenceslas when I get back to his house.  Then I’ll take him to the YMCA with me when I go to work at noon.  He can participate in our Home School P.E. class, swim, play racquetball, lift weights, and when he is tired, sit on a couch and read a book until his mother pick him up at six o’clock.  Then she will do any school work with him he didn’t get finished in the morning.

I hope this works for him.

Learning to be an American

I have recently become worried that my two youngest sons are being indoctrinated by their schools to think of themselves a "citizens of the world".  I have come up with an idea to remedy this situation. 

In March of this year their mother has to go out of town for a week and I will be staying at their house.  I've planned a television event that will, I hope, counteract the anti-nationalist propaganda they hear at school.

First, we'll watch Centenial, the story of one family over 200 years of American history.  I saw it when I was 11 years old.  I remember rushing home from church every Sunday night to see the next episode.  Now my boys will get to see it, too.

Second, we'll watch Tora Tora Tora.  I watched this with my Dad when I was 9.

Third, we'll watch The Longest Day, which I also watched with my Dad when I was 9.

He is never weary and he will not let you fall.

That last post I did was pretty dismal, wasn't it?  But guess what?  Just my little pathetic bit of resistance (more complaining and worry than actual resistance) was honored by God and He healed my truck.  It started, I was able to move it, and didn't get towed!

Rock and a Hard Place.

My truck won't start.  This is a very serious problem.   I park my truck on the street and have to move it every third day to keep it from being impounded by the city.   I am worried.  If I lose my truck I will lose my home and all my possessions (books, hand tools, and clothes, mainly) and be truly homeless.  Several women have offered me their beds and/or houses but what kind of man would I be if I depended on women?  (Sometimes I think the only thing I am good at it making women, except for wives, happy to be around me.) It is not a sin to be poor but it is a huge inconvenience.

I used to think I wasn't' rich because God was being merciful and He was keeping me from doing evil things with riches.  But now I am beginning to think something else.  I mean, I want to be a good man.  I do not want to sin.  But here I am with no ability to house myself aside from being a prostitute pleasing pagan women.  Two of the women I've been out with in the last year have actually suggested I make money as a paid escort; that unlike the usual man who works in such a situation I am articulate, educated, and polite.

All I want is to get a job as a history teacher, work off my school debt, and then buy a small farm where I can live in simplicity. Yet even that humble dream seems out of reach.    My house-on-wheels is four days away from being towed away by the police, I am about to be truly homeless, and am seriously thinking about doing something shameful.

How did I get here?