Learning about this approach has taken me nearly a year because we have faced numerous transitions as a family. I am still in the process of learning and internalizing what I am learning so I can teach it to the children. What we have implemented has dramatically impacted our family.

The children are showing tremendous initiative in school and in their lives in general as a result of these changes. Moriah, 10, woke herself up before the rest of the family, dressed and opened her bible. She began her own private study and is recording her walk with God in a notebook. I expected to find Moriah in bed. Imagine my surprise when I opened the door and found her sitting quietly at her desk reading God’s word. The twins, age seven, also began their own personal study by reading the Psalms. They want to be like the godly men who founded our nation that we had been reading about. They both have come to family worship with notebooks keeping a record of what they learn. All of the children have asked to double their math lessons completing two per day. Despite the effort this takes, they refused to return to one lesson per day when I gave them the opportunity. In fact, they insist on test days that they should still complete two lessons anyway. One day we had attended a vocal performance for our niece. The children begged to complete their second lesson in math when we returned home. This change in my children came after learning about key figures in American Christian history. They also saw how the failure to use the bible as a basis for examination of fields of study has eroded the moral values of our culture and lead to a dumbing down in our country. I am delighted to see the children so invested in rigorous scholarship.

You can learn more about the biblical principle approach from the Principled Mom. Enjoy!

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Moriah, 10, purposes to be a homemaker. Her life long dream is to be a wife and mother some day. She intends to glorify God in this capacity. When I was Moriah’s age, I did not share her aspirations. In fact, I was nearly 30 before I enjoyed cooking and cleaning. Even today it takes effort to perform these duties. I enjoy it more than I used to but home making doesn’t come naturally for me. My daughters have surpassed me in embracing biblical womanhood in many ways. Not only do they crave being in the kitchen, espouse views of having large families and working in the home, but they also hold tightly to a particular image of a keeper of the home. Let me explain.

Moriah’s arrival in my life was one of complete joy. I had her shortly after I ended my career. As I held her in my arms, I wept thanking God for opening my eyes. This precious baby girl would never have to enter daycare. She would never enter government schools.

God impressed upon my heart the foolishness of my career. As a social worker, I was intent on saving families from common social ills while I neglected my own. I spent ten hours a day, at least, away from my own family. After a five year long struggle with infertility, it seemed idiotic to place the baby I desperately prayed for in the hands of someone else for the majority of the day. Should I have continued that path, I would have missed many of this baby’s firsts and remained oblivious to the influences counter to Christian culture. Immediately, I took action to end my career to spend the rest of my children’s childhood actively involved with EVERY aspect of their lives. Moriah’s birth came shortly after I ended my career.

Moriah flourished under biblical home education developing her own convictions more advanced then my own. She embraced biblical femininity and modesty long before I would. I still remember the day she woke up and stubbornly defied me. I laid out a pair of pants for her to wear just like any other day. Moriah loved dresses since she was old enough to make a decision. That day, she pulled out a dress and with a ferocious boldness began a stand off with me. She wanted to wear dresses and that was it. Perplexed with the disobedience, I felt stuck. Ultimately, over time I gave in and allowed her to convert her wardrobe to dresses only. Moriah was not satisfied.

She wanted all the girls in the house to share her preference. A few years later, her baby sister entered the scene. She quietly influenced her sister to wear dresses. Though it was not a hard conversion. Somehow by osmosis Charity ended up identifying with her sister’s preference to wear modest clothing. All is well that ends well, right? Wrong. Those two little girls began a full court press to encourage me to wear dresses. This was not an easy task for them. After all I was raised heavily immersed in American culture and even became a feminist for a while. Simply, I liked jeans. Dresses were for special occasions like church. The girls persisted in asking me why I wouldn’t wear a dress. They suggested I just try it for a while. My response was always the same, a firm “No.” I held onto my position until my girls met my husband-to-be. He delighted in the girls attire stating that they were “little ladies”. Many conversations took place after that between the girls and my future husband. I gave way to pressure and decided to do a trial run of wearing dresses. I was pleasantly surprised with my freedom of movement and ease of navigating through clothing decisions. That is, I felt more liberated and more comfortable in a dress plus it took less time to get dressed and coordinate my wardrobe. Often I would pull a dress over my head and be off and running for the day.

Moriah shows dresses do not stop her from catching fish!!

My conversion to dresses did not come easy. Occasionally, I still wore pants. The girls and the boys in the family would complain when I wore pants. “But, Mom you look so beautiful in dresses”. I have been wearing mostly dresses for a year now. I enjoy especially ankle length dresses. My daughters gloat that they have converted their Momma.

Charity fishes in modest apparel

I have only occasionally struggled with wearing a dress in certain social settings. But, generally, I don’t feel odd. I have been impressed with the compliments I receive from strangers about my clothing. Generally, I choose dresses I like that aren’t too plain of frumpy, nor are they attention getters. It is peculiar. If I wear pants, I feel very bound and constrained.
As I have converted to modest dress, I do not impose my preference on others. I did not come by wearing dresses easily. Frankly, I was accustomed to wearing jeans and liked it. I never dreamed I would enjoy wearing dresses or feel more comfortable in them. Largely, my daughters are responsible for my conversion. Even then, I am not sure why my daughters were so convicted. We did not have any friends who primarily wore dresses. My instruction to them was not to wear skin tight jeans, low cut shirts, but I did not require them to wear dresses in order to be modest. The girls identified dresses with beauty, femininity, and freedom. And, they come to this conclusion at tender ages. After a year of wearing dresses, I affirm their conclusions.

While I would never jump on a bandwagon and insist others wear dresses in order to be biblical, I would encourage others to try it. You never know, you just might like it. I was pleasantly surprised. For those who would like to read further on modest dress, click here.

I am thankful for my daughters whose persistence challenged me to stretch my thinking in this area. They are inspiring to me. Moriah is now asserting her position in the kitchen. Moriah enjoys and often begs to make meals. Her accomplishments include making pancakes from scratch, scrambled eggs and sausage breakfast, baking cakes and decorating them, home made noodles and homemade pizza. She completes these tasks with minimal involvement on my part.

I praise God for my beloved daughters who enjoy being keepers of the home. As they take their place in the kitchen and train for their future, they are easing my burden and increasing the joy of our family with their enthusiasm.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Zechariah loves insects. Lately, he collects a variety of specimens. Recently, he found a cicada still in its skin. This creature’s transformation was imminent. In fact, just as Zech was showing me the creature it started to press out of the shell. The cicada in its shell is dark, nearly black. It was a disgusting and pathetic looking creature. As it emerged from the old shell, the new creature was a bright light green.

 We were transfixed as we studied the critter. Then Zech said:

“Mom, the cicada reminds me of us. Our old sinful man is dead, black and disgusting. When God transforms us, we leave the dead shell behind and are made into a new creation. We are given a new life just like this cicada. God transforms us into something better.”

I smiled at Zech and was duly impressed. After expressing amazement at the wisdom at his childlike faith, he then added:

“So are you going to feature this lessson on your blog? You wrote about Moriah’s lesson on milk. So, can’t you feature mine?”

Well … you can see for yourself.  My children may surpass me in coming up with valuable writing material.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid.

The exploits of boyhood continue in my home. Joseph and Zechariah reunited this weekend for fun filled adventures. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we are doing those two can transform anything dull into intrigue. I would be remiss to forget the seven year old boys. Yes, there are two more boys, the twins. So, when Zech and Joe begin their antics. The seven year-olds go through a time warp and assume they are of equivalent maturation. There is never a dull moment with two eleven year-olds and two seven year-olds who think they are eleven.

Our vehicle woes continue so we took to walking while repairs were made. Huck and Tom Zech and Joe commenced to collecting. Have you ever seen an eleven year old boys collection? Let’s just put it this way. I have been dejunking our home and the collection resembled the low primordial form of junk. The joy and delight in their expression created a conflictual knot in my stomach. On one hand, I wanted to order them not to cart the junk around. After all, I had just spent the last week chucking unwanted items. On the other hand, I enjoyed seeing how they morphed trash to treasure. It requires a unique creative perspective to see value in junk. This kind of resourcefulness channeled in a productive direction makes for well rounded agrarian men. Nurturing this behavior has practical benefits. Moreover, with proper guidance they can broadly apply the skill of seeing value in the valueless to life in general. This attribute makes for well rounded Christian men.

Christ, in His walk on earth turned to those labeled worthless. He was ridiculed for spending time with sinners. Clearly, He saw value in what the religious elite saw as valueless.  Scripture tells us in 1 Corinthians 12:22:

On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable,

Life is filled with disappointment and often broken dreams. Examining pieces and parts and seeing how they fit into the whole is a much needed skill for any Christian. We are also called to “rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice.  (Philippians 4:4) In order to rejoice in disappointment and brokenness, we need to be able to see the value in what appears valueless. Again, this seemingly annoying habit of picking up debris can be transformed into a vital life skill.

At the end of our walk, the junk collectors filled my purse with various debris. The ultimate prize was a four foot snake skin. It did NOT go in my purse. Yes, I groaned when I got to church this Sunday and had to sift through the boys collection. Yet, I paused and reflected on the truths found in children’s play. May we all look today on the broken bits and pieces and find treasure.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid.

Opponents of home schooled children state emphatically, “How will they ever learn to function in the real world?”

This misguided assertion perplexes me. Here is why:

My nine year old begged and pleaded to decorate her twin brother’s birthday cake. The twins are ardent supporters of dairy farming. I decided the first cake should be mostly small animals and tractors on a cake lightly decorated with frosting. As Moriah improves her skill she can do more elaborate decorations. The twins scrounged up tractors and small plastic dairy cows to put on their cake. Some time passed. More time passed. Then Moriah called me into the kitchen to survey her work. It was a white frosted cake with green grass, a brown row of frosting simulating freshly plowed farm ground. In the middle of the green grass were piles of brown frosting. “WHAT is THAT supposed to be?”

I shouldn’t have asked.

“Those are cow pies” she replied as a matter of fact.

In the midst of toy dairy cow replicas, my daughter inserted reality, the real world, simulated cow manure.

A few days later, I visited my plain friends to pick up an order of freshly butchered chickens. I promptly roasted one complete with potatoes and carrots. It was oh so delicious. Moriah picked up the thawed bird and said,

“Just think. A few days ago this was a live chicken”. She held the bird up with her small hand thrust inside the body cavity. She wiggled her arm and began clucking like a chicken. As a citified product of a government education, I did not deal well with this reality. I ate a garden salad for supper. The rest of the family ate chicken. I skipped the cake and ate ice cream only. My home schooled children embrace reality with more gusto then my queasy stomach can handle.

So, will home schooled children learn to deal with the real world? Yes, they do live in the real world. There is no need for a reality show in this family.

In all fairness, there are some glitches in home education. My oldest son recently began working with recovering drug addicts. During a recent visit, he informed me that I failed to properly inform him of slang used by those suffering from addictions. Andrew graduated equating getting stoned with Stephen’s death in Acts. He was thankful he never learned the modern cultural meaning of getting stoned. Should I be thankful for this oversight? You tell me.
Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Seven years old!!!

The twins celebrated their seventh birthday on July 3rd.  Life with twins is an incredible blessing and adventure.  The twins are identical but they look different enough now that most people can tell them apart.  Josiah and Jordan have never forgotten the dairy and continue to wake up before the alarm saying they are ready to milk cows.  I appreciate their desire to work hard and help around the house.  But, their love of God is the most rewarding.  The twins enjoy reading the bible.  Josiah wakes me first thing in the morning asking me to read the bible to him.  They are also notorious for singing hymns while working, playing, and traveling.  They are a great encouragement to me.  It has been a privilege to raise them for our King.  Join me in praying that these boys would have a life time of faithful and fruitful service to our amazing God.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

On eating poison berries:

“Those are Holly Berries,” my eleven year old explained to his younger sibling. The dark red and purple berries nearly swiped the window as we pulled out of the drive way. “They are poisonous. You should never eat them.” I heard him lecture the younger children.

“What will happen to you?” a six-year-old twin asked.

Zechariah explained, “ Well, I ate two berries. Nothing happened to me. My stomach wasn’t even upset. But, my bottom sure felt warm after mom disciplined me for eating wild berries. She warned me once, but I didn’t listen. I am telling you. Don’t eat Holly Berries. It is no fun.“

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On hiding God’s word in your heart:

We recite the following pledge to the bible.

I pledge allegiance to the Bible, God’s holy word.

It is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

I will hide God’s word in my heart that I might not sin against thee. Amen

Our family began reading Pilgrim’s Progress. In the story Christian receives instruction to hide God’s word in his heart so he won’t sin. One evening, Moriah, at the age of four, was laying on the couch. We had completed a full day of school and another chapter of Pilgrim’s Progress. She was pressing on her chest with her hand directly where her heart was.

“Mommy, I finally figured out what this bump is. Well, it says to hide God’s word in your heart. This hard spot in my chest has to be the Bible”

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It is true being a mother requires sacrifice. There are days when training them brings one challenge after another. Yet, their unique perspective and their ability to find joy in work reminds me how fortunate I am to spend all day every day training them. It is an honor and high calling to home school my brood. There are some days when chaos reigns supreme. However, I have learned more about God and the real meaning of life from my children then I ever learned from my college professors. Every college student purposes to use their career to make a difference in the lives of others, to leave a legacy. As I watch my children grow and impact others in our lives, I conclude motherhood and home schooling is the most influential career available. I am not sure who the true students are in home schooling: the parents or the children. It is a mutually satisfying and beneficial endeavor.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Fatigue taxed my ability to match her enthusiasm. Inwardly, I groaned at still another task to complete before bed. I promised my daughter knitting lessons for months now. I couldn’t put it off any longer.

Slip knots were made. Her hands imitated mine. Rows of stitches were cast on. My daughter’s enthusiasm built as she examined her  work.

“What’s next, Momma? I am ready for the next step”.

“The pattern calls for one row of knit stitches. The next row will be purl stitches, “ I responded.

I heave a sigh. The fatigue tempts me to put off the next step until tomorrow. I survey my daughter’s face. Her eager desire to move on was obvious. No. I must indulge her.

“Insert your right needle in this stitch. Wrap your yarn around this needle….”

I stopped and examined the position of the needles. “I have never noticed this before, “ I murmured.

“What is it mommy? What do you see?” asked Moriah.

I smiled and marveled.

“I see the cross, Moriah.”  I began to show my daughter how to find the cross with her knitting needles too.

She smiled broadly . “I see the cross too, Mommy.”
I couldn’t help myself. This simple act of knitting provided an amazing object lesson for my daughter that would impress great truths on her young mind, truths I instructed her to share with her own daughters when she teaches them to knit.

The lesson:

To complete this task your needles must make a cross with each stitch. The more frequently you see the cross the closer you are to completing your project. If you fail to see the cross, you may drop stitches resulting in a messy unusable final project.

Our lives are just like this project. Every day we must find the cross. The more we see the cross, the closer we are to the final project. Failure to see the cross leads to a disheveled life. In the end, our lives don’t serve the intended purpose: to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

With each project you knit, think on these truths. Remember the cross, Moriah. Pray for those who will be using the gift you knit. Pray that they will see the meaning of the cross in their lives.

As the lesson ended, I noticed my fatigue had disappeared. What started out as just another demand on my time, turned into a revitalizing discussion that sustained me.

Dear God:

Thank you for the precious children you have given me. Thank you for showing me the cross as I teach seemingly mundane tasks. Help me to reflect on the meaning of the cross every step of the way so I can be a usable garment for you. Help my children and my children’s children to see the cross too. Amen.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

My three youngest boys mispronounce words more than usual. I thought they would out grow it. Rather, I hoped they would. As time passed, I realized their God given accents would remain without the aid of speech therapy. All three boys are taking speech therapy.

As a home educator, I prefer to provide these services myself. The cost of the therapy outweighs the benefits. Not only do we pay premium prices for each session, but we drive a good distance to access these services. But, can home educators help reduce childhood mispronunciations?  Yes, indeed!

Recently, I ran across a great resource for families with special education children. It is Christian support for families dealing with special needs. You can read more about it here.

I recently ordered the Straight Talk books. I plan to supplement our speech therapy sessions with my own lessons at home thereby reducing the length, duration, and cost of such services outside the home. I have just begun to look at the two manuals I ordered. I am impressed. Much of the book reinforces that language is vital to our relationship with God. If you have children with special needs, please be sure and check out these resources.

Currently, I am looking for occupational therapy programs I can use in the home as well. If anyone knows of resources for these needs, please share.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid