Tag: homeschool

Family Man, Family Leader: Created to be His Help Meet – Help I’ve Created a Monster. Part 1

April 3, 2011

by LivingForEternity

My husband and I met at work. We were both recovering from failed marriages, and were friends for a long time before we started dating. After having a failed marriage we were both determined not to let another one fail.

We had two kids within nineteen months. That was fine as we wanted several children. He worked a lot of hours so I was a very capable manager of our home. I could feed babies and fix water leaks. I did not find it necessary to ask him about every single thing I did. If something needed fixing or doing I took care of it if he wasn’t able to. We were partners. However, as the children began to approach school age I began to question whether I wanted them to go away every day. I had quit work by this time, and really loved my kids.

It was decided that I would home educate them. Both of us are college educated, and we felt confident that this would be possible. I was not into a whole bunch of character stuff. I just liked my kids and wanted to be with them. As I began to get involved in a local home school group I was introduced to some ideas I had never heard of before. I met a lot of women who were very different from me. They seemed to be so calm with their many children. They had never worked and many were not college educated.

As I said before I was very independent. I was in no way co-dependent on my husband. I was a very capable person who could take care of most anything I had to. My new “friends” saw this and sought to “help” me. One of those helps was Created to Be His Help Meet.

The Beautiful Girlhood Doll ~ Introduction

March 29, 2011

by Libby Anne My parents started out as fairly ordinary evangelicals. My mother intended to go back to work after I was born, but once she held me in her arms she decided she could not bear to leave me with anyone else, and so she stayed at home. When I turned five, my mom could not bear the thought of sending me off to kindergarten. I was still so little, after all, and what did kids really learn in kindergarten? She had heard of homeschooling, and, though she was still skeptical, she decided to Full post …

No Charity in The Remnant ~ Part 1: The Sinner’s Prayer

March 22, 2011

by Whisper Rain

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. We’ll call her Whisper Rain. :) She was a furiously happy little girl- she had tons of energy & was sometimes loud and difficult, but her parents loved her very much just the way she was.

Soon her little brothers and sisters started coming along, and happy little Whisper got even happier. She was confident- and bossy sometimes- but her little brothers and sisters didn’t seem to mind. She made up stories and jumped on the couch, and even cussed like a sailor once in awhile.

One day Whisper’s Mommy was excited! She had met Jesus, and now she finally felt like, through his strength and with his guidance, she could be the Mommy she’d always wanted to be for her children. The Rain family started going to church, and the people there were very nice. The children did all kinds of fun things at church, and made friends. Whisper started public school and made more friends! Sometimes they’d take along some school friends to church, and they all had a good time together.

All the kids in the neighborhood liked to come play at the Rain’s house, because it was a fun place to be. Sometimes she’d go to their houses to play too, and sometimes while she was there she would see parents fighting and yelling, and slamming doors… and that kind of scared her. It was so different from home, where Mom and Dad would sing songs with you and play hide and seek and video games with you… Whisper liked her family.

When Whisper was in third grade, her Daddy lost his job and her parents decided to move down south to look for work. One of Daddy’s friends was planning to move too, and the families got to know each other and decided to make the move together! Their new friends, the Orwells, had a boy right around Whisper’s age, and they quickly became friends. Finally, the house sold and Whisper said goodbye to her grandparents and cried as she watched them get smaller and smaller in the U-Haul truck’s big rearview mirror. It was a LONG drive to this new state they were moving to! Everything there was different! Their new town was so small! The people there talked with a funny accent. But at least they had their new friends nearby!

Daughter of the Patriarchy: When Dreams Become Promises

March 15, 2011

by Sierra

As followers of God’s final prophet and members of the elect Bride of Christ, we made a lot of promises in God’s name. We promised safety to a world we presumed was in its death throes, ready to face tribulation, destruction and ultimate renewal. We promised healing, hope and happiness to those who accepted God’s provided way of escape. We promised individuals that their broken families would be restored, that their financial problems would vanish when they tithed, that God’s will would give them purpose and the strength to deal with the wearying parade of everyday troubles. We promised Alissa that God would heal her daughter.

Alissa was a single mother of two young boys. She worked as a clerical assistant in a faceless grey office. It paid the bills, but not all of them. She had a husband, too, but not all of him. He brought home other women, parading them in front of her face. He took them out to places she would never see. He riled up the boys, then refused to parent them. He made them despise and curse her. He probably took her money, too, but I don’t know. I was a kid, and I wasn’t supposed to listen to these kinds of stories, even though my dad was doing the same thing.

Late in the 1990s, Alissa found out she was pregnant. A third baby for a man who hardly noticed the first two. But Alissa had dreams for this one: this little girl would charm her daddy’s heart, bring him back, make a real man out of him. And our church turned those dreams into promises. God would honor her faith and restore her marriage, since she had submitted to her husband despite all the trials and was ready to bear him a daughter. Just wait and see, we promised her, God has a special miracle for you. How glorious it will be when he reveals his power through you and your family!

Within weeks, Alissa learned that there was a problem with the baby. The child had a genetic abnormality: an extra chromosome, perhaps. She was expected to live only a matter of hours, if she wasn’t already stillborn. The doctors recommended abortion. They said it would spare Alissa the pain of saying goodbye to a daughter who would never hear her hello.

Everyone at church smiled knowingly at this point in Alissa’s story. Doctors loved to recommend abortion, especially unnecessary abortion. It made them money, after all. Alissa ought to ignore them. They were part of a culture of death and hated motherhood. Worse, they didn’t believe in the power of God to heal the sick! Not even cancer could stand before the prayers of God’s elect. Heads wagged along with the tongues. Those doctors might think they knew what they were doing, but they didn’t know our God. He could turn Alissa’s dreams into promises.

Spoofing the Visionary Daughters Quiz

March 8, 2011
[Note: After NLQ featured the Visionary Daughters Quiz back in November, "Jadeswan" posted her own version of the quiz on the forum. For NLQ readers who have not yet joined the forum, here's a small taste of what you're missing ~ :) ]
by Jadeswan
I decided to try my hand at spoofing the quiz. I’m sorry it’s so long but once I got started it was just too fun to stop. I guess I “just couldn’t help myself.” How foolish! Big Grin

(Just a note in case any of what I wrote steps on anyone’s toes: please keep in mind I grew up under this mentality. Yes, it is snarky but only towards the bonds that kept me chained to fear for so long.)

1—How do you respond when criticized /corrected?
A: I begin throwing things at the criticizer and screaming obscenities.
B: I laugh hysterically and start in on a litany of the criticizer’s faults.
C: In all circumstances I love to be criticized. I show a joyful countenance when my father chastises me (with a Biblical rod, of course) for leaving a book on the table. When my mother tells me that wearing my hair in a ponytail could cause men to lust, I am grateful for her sound advice. If no one is criticizing/correcting me at the moment, I go around asking everyone in my family what each one thinks I do wrong. It is so wonderful that I even self-criticize constantly.

2—I like to talk…
A: Nonstop—during funeral services, during my best friend’s graduation ceremony, at the bedsides of relatives who are deathly ill.
B: Only if everyone will shut up and listen to my awesomeness.
C: I don’t really talk at all. I only whisper—mostly Bible verses and quotes of things my father and pastor say.

3—When I talk I tend:
A: To tell racist jokes and ribald stories.
B: Let out the skeletons in EVERYONE’s closest.
C: See above. (Question 2, answer C.)

4—In the heat of the moment, I often:
A: Get into fist fights
B: Call my family names.
C: I don’t really have a “heat of the moment” because heat is akin to passion and passion is evil. I don’t really disagree with anyone ever—except for wicked people, of course—but when people do disagree I try to help them all agree with the truth. If they won’t I go to my room and read my Bible.

Testing the Spirit of Quiverfull: Perfectionism & Elitism

March 1, 2011

by Kristen Rosser ~ aka: KR Wordgazer

Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world. I John 4:1

Also of your own selves shall men arise, speaking perverse things, to draw away disciples after them. Acts 20:30

Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.” Galatians 5:1

The above passages warn us that not every movement that says it is following Christ’s teachings, actually is. How can we know the difference?

Jesus said “Ye shall know them by their fruits. (Matthew 7:16).” Galatians 5:22-23 says that out of the “liberty” spoken of in verse 1 of that chapter (quoted above), we should see the fruit of “love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.” If the way you and your family are being encouraged to live is a life of liberty, causing a growth of these qualities, then it is bearing good fruit.

This series asks a set of questions designed to help you determine whether following the Quiverfull movement is keeping you and your family in the liberty of Christ and bearing the fruit of the Spirit.

Do you feel guilt that you and your family could be doing better in living out the principles of godly living that are being presented to you as God’s best? Is it implied that in following these principles, you are part of a special group, called to higher things than other Christians? Do you ever feel dread or hesitation about what new biblical standards the Lord might reveal to you next, because the way you live now is already such a challenge? Do you ever find yourself putting up a “front” of family blessing and harmony for others to see? Have you seen individuals or families who fail to meet the standards, rejected and ostracized?

Here are some teachings or statements you may have heard in the Quiverfull movement:

“God has revealed to us the true, biblical model for godly homes and families. We dare to be different from ‘lukewarm’ Christians, rejecting worldly ways that are steeped in humanism.”

“So many other Christian couples are ‘planning’ their family size for the sake of their convenience, but God has not given us that option. He has called us to a life of faith and trust.”

“Your own home can become an outstanding example of how following biblical principles for godly family living will result in children who are wholeheartedly dedicated to serving the Lord in their own lives.”

“When we fulfill with excellence our high calling as wives, mothers and homemakers, we raise the standard of God’s truth to the nation.”

And here are some of the Scriptures that are emphasized:

“And Jesus said unto him, ‘No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.’” Luke 9:62

“He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much, and he that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much.” Luke 16:10

“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Phil. 4:13 (implying that if you are truly letting Christ strengthen you, you should be able to meet all these standards)

But is this the whole counsel of the Scriptures?

I Am So Much More Than a Maiden of Virtue! Part 4 ~ Little Things

February 22, 2011

by WanderingOne

I am a nail-biter. I don’t bite them because I’m nervous or scared or anything like that. I just…chew. My nails are ugly and jagged; short and stumpy. I hate the way they look.

Growing up my parents tried to discipline me out of the habit. It showed a lack of self-control, an inadequate ability for self-restraint. I tried to stop. I hated disappointing them. I was afraid of punishment. And yet, I never could shake the habit. I bit and chewed—perhaps it was a form of unconscious resistance: this small imperfection, this awful habit, was a small way of ensuring that my parents’ authority was not absolute. Maybe it was just a bad habit I could never kick.

In any case, my parents’ authority no longer absolute, I decided that this year was it. 2011 was going to be the year that I would quit biting my nails. Towards this end, a friend suggested that I try painting my nails. Perhaps, if they were pretty, I would be less inclined to put my hands in my mouth. It seemed like a good suggestion. I had never painted my nails before—despite having been “out” for around two years, maybe closer to two and a half, depending on how I dated it. I danced, drank alcohol, wore pants and shorts and all matter of immodest clothing, but never in my life had I painted my nails.

I opened an internet browser, and googled “how to paint your nails,” at myself for doing so. Equipped with information from the ever-reliable internet, I went to target and bought a pale shade of pink; something that would not be too noticeable, but hopefully “there” enough to keep me from biting. I returned home, put on some music by an artist whose name I would never even have known a few years ago and began the task of painting my nails.

After I finished, I looked down at my hands to scrutinize the result. Something I never expected would happen, happened. I, the girl who could dance and drink and cut her hair, stared down at my hands to find myself feeling guilty. “Who paints their nails? What sort of person have I become? Jezebel. Slut. Vain, foolish, woman. What am I doing? Jezebel. How could I do this? Why would I ever do this? I’m becoming an awful person.” My brain could not stop. I could not turn off the guilt. I tried to reason with myself “Lots of normal people who are not sluts or whores or Jezebels paint their nails. I did nothing wrong. Anyway, you’ve done way worse than painting your nails. This is a silly, stupid thing to feel guilty over.”

It didn’t work. After talking with an ex-fundamentalist friend, I decided to sleep on it and hope I felt better in the morning.

Dispelled ~ One Girl’s Journey in a Home School Cult ~ Part 7: Surviving Abuse

February 15, 2011

Please note: The content contained herein does not necessarily reflect the values and opinions of the NLQ blog and its administrators.

by Chandra

For a brief while, the storms in my life had appeared to reach a kind of calm. While I still, at 17, remained friendless and lonely, at least Candi’s abusive and bullying behavior towards me took a backseat as I prepared for my last year of “high school.”
My education, all twelve years of it, had been a complete fraud. The closer I become to achieving my degree in Special Education, the more I am dumbfounded how one parent could let their child’s academic achievements become so neglected. Not only am I a soon to be educator, I am also a parent of three sons who are all in school. Honestly, it sickens me.

My best friend and I have since concurred, that even though the state of Missouri had laws on what we had to achieve in order to graduate school, we both knew that neither of our mothers had done a thing to help keep us up to date and within the bounds of one of the nation’s laxest homeschooling laws. We both understood that in order to graduate, we had to meet certain requirements within our high school transcripts. Though both of us pleaded for help, our mothers ignored our pleas. We took matters into our own hands (just to have freedom!) and forged our own transcripts. Not my proudest moment, and I am sure that I did myself no favors. However, to borrow a cliché’: Desperate times call for desperate measures. If every state had strict oversight of homeschooling families, and a social worker assigned to each family in order to catch neglect and abuse, then this would not be an issue.

I can say with a great amount of confidence that based on my preliminary research, nearly 80% of homeschooling graduates that I have spoken with never completed 100% of the requirements that were needed in their state in order to graduate (if that state had no oversight or accountability written into their laws). The only ones who have met these standards, within these lax states, were the ones whose parents either a) enrolled them in an on-line learning school or b) their parents’ had a higher degree (e.g. a Masters) and a great amount of emphasis was placed on academic achievement (not character achievement). Someone needs to intervene on behalf of these children, and something needs to be done to rework the current laws on homeschooling. Yet again another reason I write.

I was pretty lonely in my senior year, and really regretted the fact that when I spoke to my Grandmas they would frequently ask me if I ever wanted to attend a senior prom. Wanting to please my parents, and escape the brainwashing of my mom, I gave them the answer that my parents needed to hear. I was happy being homeschooled, and “saving” myself for that one special person. Dating in high school, I told them, was wrong. Deep down, I wished that my mom had been out of the range of hearing so that I could have a private conversation with one of them and tell them just how unhappy I was. Not only was I not allowed to tell them what was really going on in my life, I was never trusted to talk to them apart from my mom. I was deeply saddened that I was missing out on such a big part of high school. I would look at my cousins’ prom pictures and my heart would cry. I longed to have a formal gown, longed to dance, longed to just have fun. And more than anything, I longed to have a friend.