It is another Monday morning. The house is quiet. The kids are still sleeping. I sit at my kitchen table with a small remnant of coffee left in my cup as I linger here after my quiet time. Out the window I look to see the sunrise, but instead see the incoming rain clouds. Inside the warmth of my house this makes me think of the proverbial calm before the storm.
We are in our second year of homeschooling our two youngest children, Hunter and Hope. In a short while I will be at this same kitchen table (full of scratches and scuff marks from books and pencils being slid across it) trying my best to teach a kindergartner how to read and a 6th grader how to compare fractions by converting them to decimal form. I will do my best to lovingly teach them about grace and patience, mostly by trying to live it out with them daily. And, I will often fail.
Don’t get me wrong, we have some great moments of accomplishment.
And then we have some moments of just, well, yuck.
Raised voices, bickering kids, an eleven year-old’s frustrations over those fractions, or a five year old voicing a concern over a silent ‘e’. Hope explained it this way to me: “Why in world did someone think it was smart to put a silent ‘e’ on the end of a word to make an ‘a’ make its sound it should already make! That ‘a’ has too many sounds. It should only get one! Aaannnnd, that’s not fair that the ‘e’ doesn’t get to say anything in that word!” I tend to agree with Hope on this one, especially when you are the one trying to defend the silent ‘e’.
Then there are the even harder days where the teacher is the one lacking motivation. There are times where I start to allow Satan to creep his crafty thoughts into my head. Thoughts like, “I would have so much free time if the kids were enrolled in public school. I could get soooo much done. I would be such a better friend. I would have the house clean. I wouldn’t be doing my work at 6 am in the morning. I…I….I….” And that is the hardest lesson of all in this homeschooling journey for me ~ it’s not about me.
It’s not about me.
It is about God and the journey that He has called our family on. It has always been about Him. This is definitely not something I ever thought we would be doing a mere two years ago. We didn’t even know of
anyone that homeschooled their children two years ago. But, little by little, God has been faithful to provide families for moral support and a community
of pioneers that have gone before us if we need help in the future to teach the “hard stuff” if we get stuck. Or I should say, when I
get stuck. I know
that Chemistry is going to eat my lunch! It is about me sharing a Bible story with the kids prepared to answer their
questions, and walking away from it with me
being the one challenged or encouraged by the Word. It is about me growing in Him and learning dependence on Him in a way I never even knew I needed. It is about our kids watching us prevail and
fail and how, either way, the journey makes us press that much more into our mighty Creator. The One that knows what we need and how we need it, well before we do.
And that may come in the form of an unexpected surrender to a crazy call…oh, maybe like…homeschooling.
So, I humbly say…Thank you Jesus for the scratches and scuff marks in my table. Thank you Jesus for the scratches and scuff marks in my life.
One day at a time. One storm at a time. One Monday morning at a time.