Friday night was an evening dedicated not just to honoring the accomplishments of our son, but for acknowledging the hand of God on our lives. We invited our entire country church, as well as a few friends and family members from near and far. There were about 100 people who came to help us celebrate in the historic old IOOF (International Order of Odd Fellows) hall, built in 1859. The building had been the scene of many activities as it was once a hotel, a funeral parlor, an opera house, a dance hall, and even housed a book store. The springs under the wooden floor make it ideal for dances, which we discovered first-hand after we first got the graduation out of the way.

Of course, Ben’s event was the big draw for the crowd we drew, there’s no question .

Pieter, Gracie and middle mini muffin helped me decorate early in the day, along with a couple of young friends. I decided to have a table decorated with things that have been meaningful to Ben over the years. There were some rocks and a geology book for the period he was interested in rocks and minerals; there were chess pieces as a reminder of the period when all he wanted to do was play chess online (his code name was “Scaramouche,” and he got so good nobody wanted to compete against him); there was his Spiderman mug because we tease him about looking like Toby Maguire (some boys at the county fair once stopped him and asked, in all seriousness, “Are you Spiderman?”); there was a fire truck and a G.I. Joe fireman because he’s in the fire academy training to be a volunteer fire fighter; there was an airplane to indicate his interest in flying; there were the little glasses he wore when he was a little pipsqueak; there was a sweatshirt from his prolife activism; there was a notebook with work representing his homeschool years; and there was the work of art which was the scrapbook of pictures beginning with his birth through the present.

Pieter said it looked like a shrine to Benjamin. I think he was right.

On another table I put a basket full of camo-colored paper airplanes, for party favors. I bought a package of 100, and we came home with only a few. They were a big hit. Tonight my little guys were using them with their plastic army men.

I was very proud of how Benjamin conducted himself. He made sure to greet everyone who came and sincerely thank them for being there. We were shooting for a 6:30 starting time, but it was a little late because Steve and our friend Steven had to do some tinkering to get the sound to work with the computer so everyone in the room could hear the music we had for the slide show. They finally got it working (those geeks guys can do anything with electronic equipment.

When we began, Steve got up on the stage (how cool is that…we had a stage) and with his microphone in hand (very high-tech here) he thanked everyone for coming and said he wanted to tell them about some amazing new products that would change their lives. That got a laugh. Then, yes, we did a slide show, but it was only about 6 minutes long. This is where I need to say that I am so happy we have Macintosh computers. The iDVD program was amazing. It had templates where we could add all our photos and music, and it timed the photos to fit with the length of the music. We picked a theme which looked like a scrapbook, and it had three places where we could drag photos for the beginning of our DVD, just like the menu page on a “real” DVD. We could pick what we wanted to call our menu items, so we called the DVD “Life of Benjamin” and the menu item (the slideshow) “A Boy’s Life.” Steve picked Rich Mullins’s “78 Eatonwood Green” (beautiful hammered dulcimer music) for the music for the title screen. I picked Rich Mullins’s “I’ll Carry On” and Keith Green’s “Stained Glass” for the music for the slide show. We even had credits: “All credit goes to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, by whom all things are possible and without whom we would be lost. He has blessed our family abundantly above all we could think or ask. We are grateful for the precious gift of each of our children. Our desire for each of them is that they would glorify God and enjoy Him forever.”

Steve and Ben and I sat in the front row to watch the slide show which was projected on the big white wall at the back of the stage. After that, we went on the stage where we had a cloth-covered table with some of our props, and three chairs. Steve was emcee, and he introduced two friends—Mark, who is also our elder at church, and Steven, a wonderful young man who has known Ben since he was a baby—who gave short talks of godly encouragement to Benjamin. Then we had a half-time program, much superior to anything ever shown at the Super Bowl (which we do not watch!)

Gracie and her two younger sisters came out in cowboy hats and armed with shotguns and rifles, to the tune of “I Can Do Anything You Can Do” from Annie, Get Your Gun. They noticed Ben on stage, exclaimed, and proceeded to argue over who was going home with him, in their best western drawl. They decided to solve their argument by having a “shootin’ contest.” Pieter and his friend Greg were in the back of the hall, and Gracie instructed Greg to “put an apple on that thar skinny guy’s head, will ya?” So he did. Gracie missed and hit Greg. Middle mini muffin tried to hit the apple but hit a poor birdie instead, which landed at her feet. Littlest mini muffin shot her AK-47 all over the room, making her sisters have to duck, so she was disqualified. Mom had had enough of this silliness, so she came down off the stage to show them how it was done, carting her pistol. Taking careful aim, she fired. The apple was safe but Pieter fell. “Ha! You missed!” declared Gracie. “No, I didn’t…I hit jest what I was aimin’ fer!” said Mom (losing half her blog audience in dismay over her violent and twisted sense of humor). The folks there, who know us well, thought it was pretty funny, and Pieter is actually unscathed except for the fact that he didn’t get all this hoopla when he graduated.

Next, I said nice things about Ben, and so did Steve. Together we presented him with his diploma, which I designed with Steven’s help, and Steve’s help with the Bible verse we wanted to include. If anyone else wants a realistic-looking document from our diploma mill, it’s only $29.95 plus shipping and handling. Ben, being valedictorian of his class, then gave a short talk he had prepared, and it was heartwarming for this mother to listen to her son thank her for homeschooling him and attributing much of his success to homeschooling.

The graduation concluded with Steve inviting any of the men to pray for Ben—and all the men came to the front of the hall to surround him and pray for him one by one. I had done well until then, but that sight was overwhelming and the tears would come. Of course, I forgot my Kleenex, but Baby Braveheart saved the day and toddled up the steps to give me one. Pieter finished by praying a wonderful prayer for his younger brother.

Everyone cleared the chairs for the next big event of the evening. While the sound system was being set up, the crowd went into the dining room to feast on cupcakes and cranberry punch. The girls made 120 cupcakes the day before, and more than enough buttercream frosting to cover them all, in three colors. Friday morning we took them to the hall and decorated them there, so we wouldn’t have to transport them in their fragile frosted state. We used a variety of sprinkles, coconut, and sliced almonds to top them.

Then the dance commenced! Steven was the caller, patiently teaching the crowd how to do each dance before turning on the music and turning us loose. All ages participated, from 5-year-olds to “seasoned citizens.” It was darling to see little boys going to the daddies of the little girls and asking permission to dance with their daughters. Many brothers and sisters and husbands and wives danced together, too, though I didn’t get to dance once with my sweetie; he was busy making sure that nobody who wanted to dance got left out. In the type of dancing we did (in a circle or in a line), we usually didn’t stay with the partner we started with for very long, but rotated around the group so that everyone danced with everyone. In the Pat-a-Cake Polka, there is a part where the gentleman has to twirl the lady under his arm. Our 8-year-old cracked us up in the car on the way home when he complained about one particularly tall young lady that he had trouble twirling. It was also a lesson in etiquette as the gentlemen were instructed each time to safely escort the ladies from the dance floor.

While the “older” folks were dancing, I made sure the little ones were occupied in the next room with two big buckets (as in 18-gallon buckets) of Legos I brought from home.

After picking up Legos, paper airplane pieces, and cupcake crumbs, we were tired but still smiling. Several people said that they wanted to have another dance. We don’t need a momentous event in order to do it again, but with several children with many milestones in their future, I don’t think we’ll be wanting for excuses. After I rest up a bit.

With so many children and such a busy life, sometimes the memories blur together. Taking pictures and writing down special incidents as soon as they happen can help to remind us of specific things, but there are many precious memories which are gone forever. I wanted to think of something specific to share about Ben, and among the memories I have of him growing up, the Lord has preserved one incident which captures the kind of person he still is today.

When Ben was three, I was pregnant with [middle mini muffin], and I had taken the four children to visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium with our friends, the Loomises. We had enjoyed all the exhibits and it was about time to leave. I sat on a bench in the lobby, resting for a few minutes, while the children gazed into a window filled with colorful fish. Little Ben stood on a brass railing that was near the floor, to get a better view. Suddenly, he slipped and fell, hitting his mouth on the railing and knocking out his front teeth.

I moved pretty quickly for a pregnant lady. We recovered the teeth and located a dentist nearby, but we learned that Ben would have to go through several Christmases wishing for his two front teeth before any grew back. When we got home that night, my pink maternity top was covered with blood from comforting Ben. I was exhausted, and flopped down on the sofa. When I looked at my little boy and thought about how long he would be missing those teeth, I started to cry.

Ben came over and patted me on the arm and said, “It’s okay, Mommy.” The poor guy was comforting me!

That’s how Ben still is. He has faced other setbacks, but he keeps going with determination, and he always cares about the other people around him in the midst of it. He has a generous spirit. I am very proud of him.

Now Ben is commencing on a new set of adventures in his life. He will face new challenges and new setbacks, but I’m sure he will not be deterred by them. I just finished reading Elisabeth Elliot’s book Through Gates of Splendor, about the martyrdom of her husband and four other men who gave everything they had to gain what they could not lose. The book ends with this quote found in Jim Elliot’s diary, words which are a good reminder to Ben about how to find true success:

“I walked out to the hill just now. It is exalting, delicious, to stand embraced by the shadows of a friendly tree with the wind tugging at your coattail and the heavens hailing your heart, to gaze and glory and give oneself again to God–what more could a man ask? Oh, the fullness, pleasure, sheer excitement of knowing God on earth! I care not if I never raise my voice again for Him, if only I may love Him, please Him. Mayhap in mercy He shall give me a host of children that I may lead them through the vast star fields to explore His delicacies whose finger ends set them to burning. But if not, if only I may see Him, touch His garments, and smile into His eyes–ah then, not stars nor children shall matter, only Himself.

“O Jesus, Master and Center and End of all, how long before that Glory is thine which has so long waited Thee? Now there is no thought of Thee among men; then there shall be thought for nothing else. Now other men are praised; then none shall care for any other’s merits. Hasten, hasten, Glory of Heaven, take Thy crown, subdue Thy Kingdom, enthrall Thy creatures.”

And that, Benjamin, my son, is when you will have real success: when you are enthralled by God.

After I recuperate, I want to give a glimspe of our graduation and dance. We had some difficulty determining how to construct our big event as it was the first one we had done (Hans and Pieter graduated, but without the fanfare), and we didn’t find much helpful information about how others had graduated (or commenced) their homeschooled children, except for larger groups who joined together for a rather formal ceremony. I hope our example will help spark some ideas for those who are looking forward to this big event.

This evening, I will share (with his permission) the poem I wrote for Benjamin, who loves airplanes and hopes to get his private pilot’s license and possibly study aeronautical engineering. I didn’t read it at the graduation, fearing that it would produce the same ho-hum response poetry usually elicits here, but I did print it out and make a nice page for it in the back of Ben’s scrapbook.

Winging It
to Benjamin, love Mommy

Man’s always tried to leave his place–
Make his mark, enlarge his space.
He’s fought, complained, proudly striven
Against the merciful King of Heaven.
Loving law-fences trampled down;
Ignored the face under that awesome crown.

So waxy-winged Icarus in his pride
Fell, flight shortened, and denied
His desire to conquer the sky–
But desire must be conquer’d before we can fly.
Embracing our limits and knowing our hearts,
Bowing down low at journey’s start.

Humbly positioned, with faces down–
Coram Deo–God’s sovereign will may be found.
If cherubim wings obscure faces bright,
Much more man’s meekness lifts to great heights.
As you chart your course, begin your flight,
Know this paradoxical wisdom is right.

Should God ordain some of your plans be grounded,
If you find a few of your schemes ill-founded,
Don’t despair–reach for the heavens again–
What’s worthwhile often comes through struggle, through pain.
But, my son, each time you look to the sky,
Look first to its Maker, the Lord Most High.

Here it is: Pieter must have felt pretty strongly about this to crank it out so quickly. It’s a story he and his siblings have known and enjoyed since they were knee-high to grasshoppers. What do you think?

I anticipated seeing The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe since its announcement. Yet something seemed lacking when I watched the trailers, and I couldn’t get excited enough about the film to actually set aside time to view it in theaters. Finally, knowing that before long new releases will have pushed LWW off the big screen, I decided to go.

Before I continue, I must say that the movie, directed by Andrew Adamson (director of Shrek), was enjoyable. The set-pieces were generally appropriate, detailed, and believable. Costuming was skilled and, from the colors to the abundant lion-head insignia, fitted to Narnian culture. The casting of the children was excellent and their ages true to the book. The beavers were generally well-animated and perfectly voiced.

The battle scene was not only fascinating, but unique in the strategies employed. I love Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings films, but the wider variety of mythical creatures and Talking Beasts found in Lewis’s Chronicles allow for more unusual battle tactics. Griffins become dive-bombers, a rhinoceros becomes a tank, leopards are skirmishers, centaurs replace traditional cavalry, and (in a chronological reversal of their traditional film role) archers are used to cover a retreat rather than begin a battle.

So did I love the film adaptation? Not quite.

I was disappointed. No, I was abysmally disappointed. Director Andrew Adamson deserves to be flogged from Lantern Waste to Cair Paravel.

The point at which the movie began to go really wrong was, not surprisingly, when it started to deviate significantly from the plot of the book. This happened first when the children collectively discovered Narnia. In the book, the children hid in the wardrobe to escape a tour-group led by the housekeeper, Mrs. Macready. The movie has the four children breaking a window and knocking over a suit of armor, then running to escape punishment. Consequently, rather than sheltering from the undeserved wrath of Mrs Macready who “did not like children,” the children are portrayed as hiding from deserved criticism for childish mischief. That aside, however, the script change leads to a puzzled, “Why?” What’s the point?

The movie continues racking up “why” after befuddled “why?” Looking over the book I cannot fathom the purpose behind any plot changes in translation from print to silver screen. Certainly such a beloved book, which has consistently remained in print for its 50-year lifespan, doesn’t require added spice in order to make the story more exciting. Indeed, the 1988 BBC production of the book, which more than made up in heart what it lacked in budget, was astonishingly faithful to the original novel, and children (like my younger siblings) eagerly sit through it for repeated wide-eyed viewings.

The book was “smaller than remembered” when he reread it as an adult, Adamson said. “As a child, you fill out the imagery. And it was that imagery that I wanted to put on the screen.” Perhaps that explains the unnecessary addition of the Secret Police attacking the Beaver’s dam before they have a chance to escape, and a chase scene across the melting ice of a rushing river. Perhaps it also explains the decision to have Peter confront Maugrim upon that ice, which leads Maugrim to utter the movie’s most cliched line, “You haven’t got the guts to kill me.” No doubt these scenes were added to aid “pacing,” which is odd considering they only result in making the middle of the movie frenetic, and none of the faithful fans of the books, BBC film adaptations, or dramatized audio presentations have ever complained about the story being too slow.

Deliberate discrepancies between book and movie are not only unnecessary, but actually harm Adamson’s adaptation. Glaringly absent were some of the most powerful lines from the book: Edmund’s snotty “How do we know you’re a friend?”; Mr. Beaver’s “Aslan a man!” and “It’s all right!”; Edmund’s mocking “Silly old Aslan!”; Mrs. Beaver’s “If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly”; Father Christmas saying, “Battles are ugly when women fight”; Susan asking, “Is it more magic?”; Aslan’s “I feel my strength coming back to me.”

In place of Lewis’s beautiful dialogue we find cheap bits added by arrogant screenwriters. While Father Christmas’s line is pared from the full “…when women fight” to a simple “battles are ugly” as Lucy receives her gifts, Susan throws an impudently feminist “What happened to battles are ugly?” in his face. Upon encountering Father Christmas, Mr. Beaver tells the children “I hope you’ve all been good.” As Father Christmas leaves, Lucy childishly retorts to Susan, “I told you he was real.”

The development of Edmund’s personality as truly evil suffers. Absent are his challenges to Mr. Beaver’s wisdom and authority, as well as his mockery of the stone lion he presumes to be Aslan. His piggish greed in eating “several pounds of Turkish Delight” until it was “all finished” is stunted in the movie where he eats two or three pieces and then unresistingly allows the White Witch to remove the still full box of candy from his reach. Most significantly, in the book the consequence of Edmund’s behavior is that when he is rescued it is literally from under the knife, as the Witch is preparing to execute him. The movie skips this sacrificial attempt entirely, merely portraying Edmund as being dragged after the witch and ignored once she begins battle preparations. The reasoning behind these scripting decisions may lie in Adamson’s misguided assertion that “Edmond [sic] isn’t a bad boy, he’s bad because his father’s away at war and his brother’s pushing him around.”

So the weight of Edmund’s sin, the grace of Aslan in forgiving it, and the necessity that someone, whether Edmund or Aslan, be placed under the knife, is minimized. That minimization is where the movie suffers most. The Witch, who would be doing her upmost if she could “stand on her two feet and look [Aslan] in the face,” never threatens to “instantly kill” anyone who mentions Aslan’s name. Why? Because, according to the director, “In Narnia, everyone is waiting for the children to tell them what to do.” The childrens’ appearance is not the catalyst for Aslan’s sacrifice but a salvation in and of itself, and so Aslan is reduced to a lion who happens to be able to talk rather than the son of the Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea.

I have many complaints about Adamson’s “The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe,” but the greatest is this: the Great Lion, whose arrival would “put all to rights,” is morphed into a humanistic cat insisting to Peter (verbally in the trailer, thankfully more indirectly in the movie) that “the future of Narnia rests on your courage,” and not on his own death and resurrection.

Note: there will be a link to Pieter’s new and improved website soon, maybe.