Day 9: How Their Budding Interests Can Bloom No Matter How You Do School

Yesterday we stopped at the public library on the way home from school. I’ve got one child who consumes books like an Olympic athlete consumes calories. I’ve got another kid who’s an extremely selective, reluctant reader and will only read when it’s 100% engaging. Not everything reads like Harry Potter, I try to explain. But it falls on deaf ears. A third child is suddenly obsessed with all things Titanic. And because this child is also a reluctant reader, I try hard to fuel the awesomeness of books.

We get home and I pile on the sofa with the Titanic mini-expert and we learn all sorts of things, from the animals aboard to the fact that it had a swimming pool. I’m not an information book kind of mom but I’ve got this child who eats it up and his interests matter. I don’t know how his knack for details will play itself out in real life but I know that his uniqueness matters. As his mom, I want to nurture what’s already there.

This was one of the reasons we homeschooled. I’m passionate about people’s passions. I’m fascinated by the ways our personalities and gifts intersect with the world around us. I used to lead college freshmen through these very issues. I chose reading assignments, discussion prompts, and personality inventories that helped these not-quite-adult / not-still-kids gather information about how they’re wired. I loved guiding them down the path of self-discovery and opportunity.

And I longed to do the same for my own kids. Homeschooling, with its flexibility, endless options, and time for really specific interests, seemed like the perfect way to do that. Our oldest son always finished his work quickly and then played golf for hours in the backyard. Our daughter made art and jewelry and wrote plays. The littlest one emptied the contents of the bathroom drawers into the toilets. It was a lovely, messy, drippy season of togetherness and discovery.

Once they began public school, I worried that our days would be too scripted. I feared that because we wouldn’t have as much flexibility and free time, their interests would fizzle out. As it turned out I had nothing to fear. Though our days look different, their interests are alive and well. We simply cultivate them a bit differently these days.

Cultivation happens in all sorts of real and normal ways. You don’t have to manufacture it. You simply have to allow room for it. For example, the public library is still one of our favorite stops. We’re steeped in books just as much now as when we homeschooled. All three kids love athletics but we don’t let them overtake our schedule. Summer has proven to be a fine time to try things out and let interests float up to the service. Our daughter found her “sport” through public school and can’t imagine life without cheer stunts and pom-poms. When not playing rec league basketball or flag football, our boys love turning our home into an America Ninja Warrior course, building with Legos, and memorizing raps. {I never said we were high culture.} Novels and books about outer space are strewn across the living room.

But don’t think too highly of us. There’s plenty of Minecraft and Clash of Clans going on around here too. And in all of these real and simple endeavors, I learn more about who they are. And who they’re not.

Yes, life is full and our schedule is much more mandated. But that doesn’t mean it’s entirely scripted. No matter how we school, we can choose to say yes to margin and family and no to lesser things that fill up our calendars but diminish our creative space.

If he always wants to help in the kitchen, let him cook and watch the Food Network. If she’s always making up songs, grab a notebook and maybe some music lessons. If he rushes through math so he can get to backyard golf every single day, take him to the Par 3 on Saturday mornings. For the love, leave room in your days for discovery and noticing. This is where the magic happens.

While some school options may specifically cater to certain gifts and abilities, your child’s passions are there and waiting to be noticed no matter how you school. Start paying attention and share with them you what you discover. From the easy way he makes others feel welcome to the fashion magic she can create out of the everyday clothes in her closet — let their gifts be your guide.

It’s easy for the regular kid to feel like they’ve got nothing to offer in an American culture that seems to specialize in kids who specialize. Our children need to see the beauty and possibility that’s within each one of them, not for the sake of self-esteem, but to remind them that they are God’s workmanship, created to do good works and to step out into the world in uniquely personal ways.

As parents, we get to help them navigate these years with the vision and confidence they’re still growing into.

It’s a pretty sweet gig.

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What have been some of your kids’ most surprising passions?

For all the posts in this 31-day series, go here. And to read the other posts I’ve written on topic of schooling, you can go here and find them all in one place.

I’m linking up with The Nester and her tribe of 31 Dayers.

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Don’t want to miss a post in the series? You can subscribe and have each post delivered right to your inbox. As always, you may unsubscribe any time you like. I promise not to sell your address to pirates, aliens, spammers, or The Gap.

Day 8. Why Loving Them for Who They Are is 90% of the Battle

Our children are not merely a gift for us to protect and enjoy; they are one-of-a-kind gifts to the world they will one day serve. They were born into a specific time and place for unique purposes. And just as it’s important to work with — instead of against — our God-given personalities as parents, it’s crucial to work with — instead of against — our kids’ God-given personalities too.

As a mom, I’ve always loved to “notice the becoming,” to take note of the little things that offer clues about the bigger selves they’re growing into. When we make it a point to notice, it’s easier to let our kids bloom into their unique selves. That doesn’t mean we won’t lovingly try to redirect their ridiculous plans at times. But even the ridiculous can unfold into happy surprise.

I can’t tell you what any of my children will grow up to be but I already know some of the gifts they’ll each bring to the world. From an artistic eye and keen powers of observation to a heart that’s drawn to the underdog and a way of articulating life that’s quirky and spot. on. And like any parent, I see the weaknesses they carry as well. From the learning struggles that make my mama heart heavy to the character flaws that make my mama heart worry.

We are a jumbled mess of dust and glory.

Ankle deep in the rubble, we discipline and correct one minute while we mine for hidden gems the next. We endure certain traits like this one’s strong will and the other one’s laziness and that joker over there’s incessant need to make everyone laugh even when it’s totally inappropriate. Especially when it’s totally inappropriate.

We have three kids and they couldn’t be more different from one another. But we have one family and it’s a balancing act to line up the parts to the whole and the whole to the parts in a way that mostly works. School is a big part of that equation but it’s not everything. Though education counts for a lot, we shouldn’t give it too much power. It never asked to function as our savior but we’re quick to throw stones when it fails to do just that — save us.

Educate in a way that’s practical for you and for the specifics of your family. Because no matter how lovely and appealing the ideal is, it will get knocked down by the “real” at some point. No teaching curriculum can make you an extrovert when you’re an introvert. No art appreciation class will make your child do back flips over Monet when “he sees God and all of the world through a football helmet.” {One of my favorite quotes from a dear friend.}

Public school is not a fruitful choice for every child. The priciest private school can’t guarantee success. And homeschool can’t promise safety and security. Most of us don’t have the luxury of providing each child with the perfect education and a way of life that works for the whole family and keeps parents stable. Besides, the world doesn’t tailor itself to our wish-lists anyway.

But it’s good to know when something is working for your child — whether it’s a certain curriculum or a certain school — and when it’s working against your child. Be honest about yourself, your children, and your options. You can’t make a situation perfect but you can try to make it better. Peel back the layers of tears and frustration {for you both} and peer into the heart of the matter. Instead of caving to despair because a kid doesn’t fit the classroom’s mold or maybe just your mold, love them for who they are. There will still be plenty to figure out but loving them in the raw is 90% of the battle.

Know that their assets have a celebrated place but that their perceived “liabilities” can be an even greater gift, one day bearing the fruit of humility, compassion, and the courage to persevere.

Friends, it takes all kinds to make this world go ’round. Quit thinking that your kids should look more like other families’ kids. Conformity is boring and stifling. Love your children for who they are. Your unconditional love and grace, your quiet noticing and support — these will carry them further than the most well-executed education on the planet.

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How do you struggle to embrace your kids for who they are instead of trying to make them over into who you want them to be?

For all the posts in this 31-day series, go here. And to read the other posts I’ve written on topic of schooling, you can go here and find them all in one place.

I’m linking up with The Nester and her tribe of 31 Dayers.

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Don’t want to miss a post in the series? You can subscribe and have each post delivered right to your inbox. As always, you may unsubscribe any time you like. I promise not to sell your address to pirates, aliens, spammers, or The Gap.

Day 7. Embracing Your Actual Self. {Not Your Ideal Self.}

I first took the Meyers Briggs personality test when I was 25 years old. I tested as an extrovert, but just barely. When I took the same test several years later, I tested as an introvert. Every time I’ve taken it since it’s the same thing: INFJ. Though our personalities are prone to subtle change over time, I know without a doubt that I was never an actual extrovert. I simply wanted to be. I wanted to identify as a “people-person.” Therefore I provided the answers that I desired to be true about me, even though they weren’t actually true.

Perhaps it sounds like I intentionally lied. I didn’t. “Denial” is probably a better way of putting it. I simply hadn’t grown up enough to put on the lenses of acceptance yet. I was still trying to live up to the expectations and ideals that I wanted to be true for me.

Though I’d grown up enough to recognize the denial and idealism that guided my personality test answers, I still had a long way to go before I realized how this same wrongful thinking affected motherhood and the educational model I wanted for our kids.

I can still easily recall the visions I had for our homeschool. Visions of meaningful interaction all day long. Visions of delightful teaching opportunities throughout the day. We’ll learn about fractions when we cook! We’ll do math at the grocery store!

Ironically, it was the constant interaction that took years off my life. It was the ridiculous expectation that kept me trying to be someone I wasn’t even though it was killing me. I got to the point where I did not even attempt to go to the grocery store with all of my kids, let alone do math with them while we shopped. This introverted homeschool mom was desperate for a break from the tiny humans who were never at a shortage for words.

Husband: Sooo….we’re having graham crackers for dinner?

Me: Yes. Eating an actual meal required taking our children to Walmart. So I chose a supper of crackers. For the win.

We were years into homeschooling before I began to reconcile the real with the ideal. Things would have been so much easier if I’d worked with my personality instead of fighting against it.

We remain open to any educational alternative that one or all of our children may need down the road. But if public school ceases to be an okay option for someone and I homeschool again, I’ll do it differently. We’ll choose a way that puts less of the teaching burden on me. I’ll get paid in currency that matters. Marriage, wholeness, and mental health will be priorities.

Virtually all of our decisions about education revolve around the children — what’s “best” for them. But I submit that if the parent is excessively taxed and stressed, it’s not the best option, no matter how great it may be for the kids. This is true whether our kids are in public, private, or home-school.

I realize that being a mom is sacrificial by nature. We serve and sacrifice and surrender and then we get up the next day and do it all over again. It’s part of the job description and we’re fueled by a love that’s buried deep within our parental DNA. But rest and balance still matter. We live like they’re negotiable but eventually, we’ll have to pay the debt.

During my post-homeschool season of intentional rest, I wrote these words:

Self-care may look a bit different for each of us but when it’s really a necessary and life-saving endeavor, maybe we should think of it as stewardship instead of selfishness.

When you’re too off-balance for too long, when a good thing ceases to be a feasible thing, perhaps it’s time to acknowledge your real self and accept your real limits. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. And it certainly doesn’t mean you don’t measure up to the mom who seems to be rocking the very thing you can’t get together. It simply means you’re unique. And so is your family. It also means you’re human.

Be honest about your life, your season, your limits, and your God-given personality. They’re far more important variables than you may think.

But first, take off that tattered superhero cape and go take a nap.

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What about you? Do you find yourself fighting against your personality and your limits instead of embracing them as part of the equation?

For all the posts in this 31-day series, go here. And to read the other posts I’ve written on topic of schooling, you can go here and find them all in one place.

I’m linking up with The Nester and her tribe of 31 Dayers.

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Don’t want to miss a post in the series? You can subscribe and have each post delivered right to your inbox. As always, you may unsubscribe any time you like. I promise not to sell your address to pirates, aliens, spammers, or The Gap.

Day 6: How to Know the Difference Between Inspiration and Indoctrination

School options can feel like an infomercial. Have you ever watched a 30-minute pitch for a shiny new juicer on TV? You’re captivated by the wholesomeness, the nutritional value, the way this machine is going to makeover your life for the better and cure disease and make you look like a supermodel.

We don’t realize that the juicer will get clogged every other use and that it’ll take fifteen minutes to clean the parts and that we’ll use $10 worth of organic produce per juice. We fail to see these pricey, life-changing machines might begin to gather dust and finally end up in a yard sale.

Why? Because we only see part of the story. We become inspired and then we become convinced and then that conviction turns into a mandate. We must get the juicer.

Options that start out as inspiring and encouraging can sometimes turn bossy and demanding. Indoctrination has a way of inciting our emotions while simultaneously shutting down our brains. I don’t mean to be harsh. I write from experience. Also? I own a juicer.

Books, conferences, blogs, experts — they wouldn’t have any persuasive power if they didn’t have an underlying agenda. Agendas aren’t a bad thing. If we’re trying to influence others, we have to operate from a place of passion and presupposition. But sometimes we’re so persuaded by the virtues of a certain way of doing school and how well it’s working for others that we fail to see the pitfalls and real-life variables.

We forget that there’s no perfect way.

I once sat in a homeschooling workshop and listened to a speaker issue some very unsettling generalizations about what kids learn {and don’t learn} in public-school literature classes. She spoke with authority and a veneer of expertise. But I almost walked out of the session because I had first-hand knowledge that her generalizations were untrue.

But what if I hadn’t known any better? What if I’d been a newbie parent? I might have made a hasty decision fueled by fear and misinformation.

It’s good to do research. It’s a lovely thing to become inspired. It’s freeing to make a choice and feel confident in it.

But it’s not fine to be driven by fear, exclusivity, self-righteousness, or a city-on-a-hill mentality. It’s not okay to persuade others using these lesser motivations into one option over another option. I’m not singling out one camp. Persuasive arguments and overstatements abound from every camp and all the subsets within each camp — from the virtues of homeschooling to the must-ness of public schooling to the private schools that guarantee to graduate smarter, safer kids.

Desperation makes us vulnerable. And when our most precious commodity is at stake — our children — it’s easy to get swept into a way of doing school that makes it a savior instead of an option.

Ask me how I know.

I wish I’d tucked away the books and the experts and simply prayed more. I wish I’d used the God-given common sense that my husband and I both possess instead of getting caught up in idealism and educational utopias. Though I don’t regret our choices and I have seen how God is using all the ways we’ve done school, I simply wish I’d proceeded differently, trusting that Jesus would gently lead us and that He didn’t need the help of educational evangelists.

Isaiah 40:11 is one of my favorite promises from God to parents:

He gently leads those that have young.

We can rest in that promise. And we can be thankful that He doesn’t lead with fear, manipulation, statistics, or infomercials. He leads with gentleness.

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When is a time that inspiration shifted into indoctrination for you? {Also — have you ever bought something off an infomercial?}

For all the posts in this 31-day series, go here. And to read the other posts I’ve written on topic of schooling, you can go here and find them all in one place.

I’m linking up with The Nester and her tribe of 31 Dayers.

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Don’t want to miss a post in the series? You can subscribe and have each post delivered right to your inbox. As always, you may unsubscribe any time you like. I promise not to sell your address to pirates, aliens, spammers, or The Gap.

Day 5: A Call to Rest

What would it look like to declare a one-day sabbatical on worry when it comes to our kids and school and all the stress that swirls around the preoccupation? A one-day sabbatical that might turn into an actual mindset of rest if we practice it enough?

We’re quick to judge rest as the most unproductive thing a person to do. But I believe rest is actually one of the most fruitful things a person can do. It’s a reset button for your body, mind, and spirit. Whether for an hour, a day, or even an extended season, the discipline of rest renews us for what lies ahead and gives us the strength and grace to face our dilemmas and decisions with courage and perspective.

Today, wherever you are, whatever the issues, I give you permission to rest.

The indecision and insecurity, the failing grades and frustration, the anxiety and the aggravation — they’ll be waiting for you whenever you want to pick them back up.

But this day is not for that. This day is for rest. And worry has no jurisdiction here.

May God rescue you from your many concerns and may your spirit find its true resting place in the perfect and perfecting love of Christ.

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Restful words from Jesus for today and every day:

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” {Matthew 11:28-30}

And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? {Matthew 6:27}

For all the posts in this 31-day series, go here. And to read the other posts I’ve written on topic of schooling, you can go here and find them all in one place.

I’m linking up with The Nester and her tribe of 31 Dayers here.

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Don’t want to miss a post in the series? You can subscribe and have each post delivered right to your inbox. As always, you may unsubscribe any time you like. I promise not to sell your address to pirates, aliens, spammers, or The Gap.

Day 4: When Ideals Become Idols. Part 2.

{This is part 2 of “When Ideals Become Idols.” To read part 1, go here.}

My many misgivings about public school prompted me to throw the baby out with the bathwater and prejudiced me against the very educational path we’re on now, one that’s serving us well.

Idols usually start out as good things. Things that we pursue because they possess a measure of joy, blessing, and beauty. Family, friendships, homes, education, financial provision — in and of themselves these are good gifts. Yet every single one of them can easily become an over-desire, an idol. We can become so fixated on how the good gifts are supposed to look for us that when they fail to measure up? We come a little undone.

So how do you know when a good thing has become an idol?

Well, you get brutally honest with yourself. You think about how you respond when you don’t get the good thing. Or when it doesn’t look the way it’s supposed to look. Or how you’d respond if it was one day taken away. You consider how you feel toward others who have the thing you don’t have but desperately want or think you deserve.

Quite simply, my children’s education had become an idol, an over-desire. I couldn’t imagine doing it a “lesser way.” It’s not that we were rocking it in our homeschool. I battled insecurity every day. But still, homeschooling was my ideal. Naturally, fear and anxiety grabbed hold of me when I considered how I’d feel if I had to give it up one day.

And then that day came.

Real life — issues that had nothing to do with school or my children — rerouted our lives. I was homeschooling on a Thursday and the next Monday my kids were in public school.

The truth is, only a dramatic turn of events could have pried that idol from my hands. It’s not the first time God’s used that tactic with me. I’m a bit on the strong-willed side.

Only in retrospect could I see that this good thing had become a “one and only” thing.

Three years have passed since that difficult transition. Real life has changed up our family in ways I never imagined. But I’m so thankful. I’m not the same person. None of us are. School decisions that at first seemed like less-than-desirable alternatives have ended up working. And working well. Just as homeschooling was the gift of grace we needed eight years ago, public school became another gift of grace — one we desperately needed — five years later.

I’m here to testify that no one way is perfect. We had hard days and seasons when we homeschooled and we have hard days and seasons now in public school. Just this week I picked up a child from school and they proceeded to tell me about their day through bitter tears of frustration and disappointment. But guess what? We cried bitter tears during hard homeschool days too.

School isn’t necessarily what makes our days hard. Life is what makes our days hard. This world is broken. And there’s not one microscopic piece of life that its brokenness doesn’t penetrate. Sometimes we forget that. We think a method or a different school or homeschooling or new curriculum is the answer. And it may be an answer. But it’s not the ultimate answer. None of these things will be your savior because even the best alternatives will disappoint us in one way or another.

Dream your dreams. Do your research. Think through the things that matter to you for your children. Because they do matter. And in their proper place, these dreams can bear much fruit.

But ask yourself if you’re gripping them too tightly.

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For all the posts in this 31-day series, go here. And to read the other posts I’ve written on topic of schooling, you can go here and find them all in one place.

I’m linking up with The Nester and her tribe of 31 Dayers here.

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Don’t want to miss a post in the series? You can subscribe and have each post delivered right to your inbox. As always, you may unsubscribe any time you like. I promise not to sell your address to pirates, aliens, spammers, or The Gap.

Day 3: When Ideals Become Idols. Part 1.

The last post talked about rejecting fear-based motivation. There are plenty of good reasons to kick fear to the curb but here’s another big one:

Fear has a way of turning our ideals into idols.

Well, fear mixed with pride but we’ll get to pride later.

Idealism and her evil twin sister — Perfectionism — have been my lifelong companions, traipsing alongside me and shouting their requirements into each stage and season of my life.

But at each and every new place, I squared off with a disheartening reality: Life is falling painfully short of what it’s “supposed” to look like. I am falling painfully short. My marriage is falling painfully short. My parenting is falling painfully short. My children are falling painfully short. I. can’t. get. this. right.

Scared that I was doomed to this very messy everyday, I simply tried harder. I read more books. I adopted all sort of resolutions. I got a PhD in do-better-ness. And in the midst of so much striving, followed by self-condemnation when I didn’t measure up, I allowed fear, idealism, and pride to slip in the back door and motivate my thoughts and behaviors on everything from motherhood to my spiritual life.

It’s therefore no surprise that Fear and its friends were huge players in my decisions about school. Yes, I homeschooled for an array of positive, practical, family-friendly reasons. But those good and fine reasons were also mixed with a host of reservations.

What about sub-standard content and methodologies?
What if my kids don’t develop critical thinking skills?
What if they imitate all the stuff this crazy world will throw at them in public school?
What if they get hurt or bullied?
What if they don’t develop a love for learning because the inefficiency and busywork of school sucks the joy right out of it?
What if, what if, what if?

It’s normal and loving to want the best things for our children. We love them and we want to equip them with all they’ll need for a life of responsibility, character, and “success.” But it’s easy for these good things — like a great education and like-minded friends — to become ultimate things.

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More on “ideals turned idols” tomorrow. {Since this post was 920 words, 400-ish more than I promised these posts would be.} We’ll pick up where this leaves off tomorrow.

What about you? What ideals of your have a way of turning into idols?

To read the other posts I’ve written on this topic, you can go here and find them all in one place. I’m linking up with The Nester and her tribe of 31 Dayers here.

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Don’t want to miss a post in the series? You can subscribe and have each bite-sized post delivered right to your inbox. As always, you may unsubscribe any time you like. I promise not to sell your address to pirates, aliens, spammers, or The Gap.

Day 2: “Don’t Take Counsel From Your Fears”

This post is part of a 31 day series. Go here for Day 1, the intro post.

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Don’t take counsel from your fears.

Stonewall Jackson spoke those words over a hundred and fifty years ago. He was talking about fear during a time of civil war but that bit of truth applies whenever we’ve governed by fear and anxiety instead of courage and trust.

A recent amazon search using the words “homeschool public school” offered up a list of books. Here are some of the words I found in the titles of those books: blood, enemy, dread.

I wish I were joking.

Fear is a powerful motivator when it comes to making decisions about school. Truly, there’s so much at stake – safety, academic success, future opportunities based on that success, peer influences, the type of education they’ll receive, the indoctrination of beliefs that are not our own.

But how can we be thoughtful and sober-minded about our decisions instead of afraid?

Step 1: Recognize that Fear is a bully.

Fear can paralyze you, blind you, and make you reactionary instead of proactive.
Fear elevates the ideal and discounts the “real.” Common sense and practicality matter. But Fear keeps you pining for perfect.
Fear hints that maybe you’re getting it wrong.
Fear discounts the all-important variable that each family is wonderfully different.
Fear “assures” us if we choose one way, our children will inevitably escape the pitfalls of that lesser, other way.
Fear looks at stereotypes and generalizations and then force-feeds it to us as absolute truth.
Or Fear looks at a specific incident and then goes global with it.
Fear motivates with law and perfection and gracelessness.

Step 2: We recognize that God doesn’t motivate with fear. He motivates with love and grace.

As a child of God, I constantly have to remind myself that I don’t take counsel from my fears. I take counsel from the Father’s love and the truth of his Word. Scripture has a lot to say about fear but these are two of my favorite verses.

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. {1 John 4:18}

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. {2 Timothy 1:7}

He has given us these things. They are ours. Today. For our decisions about school and money and jobs – everything. That doesn’t mean the answers will write themselves in the sky and it doesn’t mean that we’ll have perfect peace about a decision. It does mean that fear shouldn’t be part of the equation.

Easier said than done, right?

When you find out your son has been learning all sorts of unsavory words from a kid at school.
When your toddler has distracted you 100 times in one hour and your big kids are sitting at the kitchen table not getting the education they surely need to get today.
When you think there might be a learning disability.
When middle school looms next year and you’ve heard it’s a cesspool but the alternatives don’t seem great either.
When your friend’s homeschool genius kids make your public school kids look rather unimpressive.
When your kid’s irresponsibility has ruled out the college choices you’d counted on.
When your real-life options for school simply aren’t the ones you’d hoped for.

I write from experience, friends. These situations and so many more can send us running straight into the arms of Fear and Not Enough and Surely I’m Getting it Wrong.

But these folks are not your friends and they certainly shouldn’t be your counsel.

Run into the arms of Love. The Love of a Father who loves you as his child and who’s got your children too. You can rest here. You can keep making decisions — even though you’re unsure — and trust that He’s walking beside you.

Know where else you can rest? In the love you have for your kids. Yeah, I know it’s messy and inconsistent and sometimes clueless. It’s not perfect love. But it’s there.

Guess how I know?

You’re reading this post. Apathy wouldn’t care but you do. Love shows up and that’s what you’re doing — showing up for them every single day. It counts for so much more than you think.

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I welcome your questions and comments. What would you like to see in these 31 posts?

To read the other posts I’ve written on this topic, you can go here and find them all in one place. This series of 31 encouraging “mini posts” for the month of October will be different than the lengthier posts I’ve written in the past.

I’m linking up with The Nester and her tribe of 31 Dayers here.

To see all the posts in the Cool About School 31 Days series, go here.

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Cool About School: 31 Daily Doses of Encouragement in Our Educational Choices

{To see all the posts in the Cool About School 31 Day series, go here.}

Do you personally struggle with indecision and insecurity over the educational choices for your family? Are you seeking real-life insight for the future? Could you use a daily dose of hope and perspective, whatever educational path you may be traveling this season?

This series of 31 encouraging “mini posts” hopes to provide the grace and encouragement you need, whether you homeschool, private school, or public school.

There are many voices, many camps, many either / or places to land on this issue of school but they tend toward mutual exclusivity. Though there’s specific support and enthusiastic rallying for each and every educational option, there seems to be a vacuum on the topic of freedom and grace for parents struggling to know which road to travel or lacking confidence in the decisions they’ve made about school.

Whether newbie parent or veteran mom, how might we begin thinking differently about this issue of education before making decisions?
How can we call out the fear that bosses us around?
How do we know when our ideals have morphed into idols?
How can we educate our children one way but still be open to other ways — either for our family later on or for those who have chosen to do things differently?
How might we respond with grace when we feel judged for our personal choices?
How can we stop silently judging others?
How can we forge true community across the educational lines that so easily divide us?
How can we stop stress-eating oatmeal creme pies behind the sofa when we’re supposed to be doing homeschool math lesson? Or helping our middle schooler with algebra homework that we don’t understand because algebra is math with letters in it and why would anyone invent that?

Anyhow.

Resources and movements abound. But most of them espouse one option over another option. That’s normal. We certainly need specific support for our specific paths.

But I’d like to be among the voices who say, There’s no wrong. But there is wisdom for your personal journey and freedom no matter which path you choose. This isn’t about our perfect decision-making and it’s not about the perfection of the parents, teachers, and institutions that teach our children. Put down the box of Little Debbies. It’s going to be okay.

I want to let you in on a little secret that can lead you to big freedom:

I’m no expert. I’m just a mom who’s homeschooled and then public-schooled and experienced a lifetime’s worth of anxiety and indecision about the whole thing. We’ve had great success and messy failure and everything in between.

On my first child’s first day of school, I faked a smile as I walked her in and then cried the whole way to my full-time job. The next year I found myself as a stay-at-home mom, homeschooling my two big kids while nursing a baby.

I’ve peeled math pages from the kitchen floor christened with apple juice and stared in disbelief as I witnessed our puppy actually eating the homework. I cried during that first school season when I had to send them to school and cried in later seasons because I felt desperate for a big yellow bus to whisk them away for 7 hours.

Three years ago I thought we might homeschool for the long haul. Three months later my kids started public school. Last Friday I found myself in the canteen of the public middle school as one of the cheer-mom organizers for the dance.

It’s been quite a journey.

The next 31 days will hold out the hope and encouragement I wish someone had written for me fourteen years ago when I was an expectant new mom. And eight years ago when my oldest started school. And seven years ago when we decided to homeschool. And almost three years ago when we put our kids in public school. And two years ago when my daughter started middle school. And one year ago when my baby started kindergarten.

I don’t think we ever stop needing steady doses of hope and perspective when it comes to our families.

If you’re stuck in your own place of insecurity and indecision {or you know someone who is}, will you join me for 31 days of encouragement for the many ways we do school? I won’t overwhelm your brain with too much to consider for each day. Each post will be 500-ish words. But I pray that the 31 days’ cumulative effect helps set you on the path of freedom and grace in your own educational decisions.

{Click here for Day 2.}

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I welcome your questions and comments. What would you like to see in these 31 posts?

Oh and I’m linking up with The Nester and her tribe of 31 Dayers here.

{To see all the posts in the Cool About School 31 Day series, go here.}

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Why Checking “YES” to Interruption’s Invitation is Always the Best Choice

My last post was September 10th. Today is September 26th. Days don’t always go as planned — and that is both hard and good. These many days without much writing has made me feel like I’m walking around with part of me missing.

I started this post days ago. And after revising it for an hour and a half this morning with a headache-tinged hopefulness, I lost all of my edits right before I went to publish. Like, really good edits that I could not possibly replicate. #writerproblems

So I began again, literally in tears as I tried to make a go of this post for the umpteenth time. The irony of the title isn’t lost on me. It’s like the WordPress gods played a cruel joke to see if I really believe my own words. Losing one’s best work can make a girl come close to losing her religion. I almost quit. But I’m so glad I didn’t. In the end I was able to grab hold of a truth far deeper than the one which almost got published.

It’s the story of my life, losing something I feel entitled to so that something better and truer can grow up in its place.

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But back to the last few writer-less weeks. Daily I’ve been reminded that I don’t have as much control as I think I do. I make my plans and then the day arrives and says Just kidding.

I don’t know about you but I tend to think of the unplanned as either interruption or happy adventure, depending on what the unplanned thing is. But sometimes they’re not at either end of the pendulum.

When the unplanned comes knocking, I find that I hold my breath until “real life” resumes. It’s like I’m waiting for normalcy to return before I can exhale and really live.

I’m learning, however, that the unplanned life is precisely my real life. So why do I tend to think of it as interruption?

The additional tests.

The feverish kid.

The unexpected needs.

The big fat expense we didn’t budget.

The loved one I desperately want to help.

The stupid fight that came out of nowhere and has me wrecked.

The Walmart tire center. Two days in a row.

The last-minute text that my home is going to show in 96 minutes and I have an entire house to tidy and a curtain rod snapped clean in half and dangling by a screw and pee sheets to wash.

Who just wrote a series on “Grace in the New Rhythms?” Was it me? Because I don’t know anyone by the name of Rhythm or Routine right now. There hasn’t been any sustained days of normalcy in a few weeks.

But there have been many days of many graces and many gifts.

And in the midst of this grace {though we don’t like to think of it as grace}, I’m learning to receive the unplanned days of real life. I’m learning to let go of my big self and my big plans. It hurts a little. Sometimes it hurts a lot.

God is showing me the desires I hold too tightly and also teaching me that I can do hard things. He’s revealing that there are days when I’m privileged to do the work that makes me come alive and that there are days when I’m privileged to do the work that makes me doubt my worth altogether. I’ve questioned every ounce of my sufficiency as a mother, as a wife, and as a friend. I’ve cried out for a whole lot of help. I’ve been not enough in every way possible.

But here’s the thing. I keep showing up. I keep making the plans.

And I keep close the cup of grace and acceptance that allows me to drink deeply when different agendas come my way. I’m learning to say, This is exactly where I’m supposed to be. This is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. And it is good.

Every day I have a choice. I can receive the unexpected as a gift to unwrap or a hardship to resent.

You’d be surprised at what a difference it makes, even for this glass-half-empty girl.

Just like optimism, service doesn’t come very naturally to me. As in, I once took an extensive personality test and being a “helper” is the furthest thing down on the list. It means that I don’t need to be needed. Some people thrive on being needed. I’m actually afraid of it. It means that I’d probably make a terrible nurse or mother. Oh wait, too late for that last one. {Though it does explain why the phrase, I need everyone to just stop needing me for an hour! has been uttered in our house five or a hundred times.}

But service isn’t necessarily about natural ability. Rather, it’s about availability. It’s about showing up and receiving the gift of giving.

I know what you may be thinking. I can’t say yes to everything. If I give every time there’s an opportunity, that’s not wise. God’s given me talents and gifts and limited resources and I’m to use them strategically. Don’t you always say that “Every yes is also a no?”

You’re right. All things being equal, you’re right. But there are times each day when things turn a bit upside down {from our perspective} and we throw plans and “no” out the window and say “yes” to living a bit beyond ourselves. It’s not about volunteerism or ministry necessarily. It’s a state of mind more than anything, a way that we approach and receive what we might not have chosen. It’s as simple as giving up my writing with peace and acceptance for a couple of weeks because there are people and needs that matter more. Or simply giving up my cherished plans for the evening because my child needs me. Often it’s small-scale but sometimes it’s major. I can’t give you a formula. I can’t tell you how you’ll know. I can only tell you that God is faithful to lead us.

Proverbs 16:9 says this:

The heart of man plans his way,
but the Lord establishes his steps.

{The New Living Marian Translation of that verse is this: Make your plans but hold them loosely. God is the boss of your life.}

And within the doubt, indecision, and imperfect choices, we are surely upheld by grace. There’s still trial and error, even within giving and service. And that’s okay. We learn by doing — by getting it right and getting it wrong and adjusting decisions accordingly the next time.

Maybe this season you’re in is all routine and predictability. Or maybe it’s all crazy. Perhaps it’s a mingling of both and you feel like you can’t get as sure and steady on your feet as you’d like. Maybe you’re “waiting to exhale.”

May I suggest that it’s time to go ahead and let it out? Yep. Right now. On this very day. You have nothing to lose but that furrowed brow and unnecessary tension.

Whether it’s a day that unfolds with precision and obvious beauty or a day that unfolds with devastation and an ash-covered, barely-there loveliness that you have to squint to see, you still have a choice. You’re still presented with possibility.

Receive or resent?

Too often I’ve chosen the latter. Guess where that’s gotten me? Precisely nowhere. I’ve missed the gifts of hope, redemption, letting go, acceptance, waiting, and an opportunity to love and serve those right in front of me.

But it’s never too late to start choosing differently.

I’ve quoted these words before but they bear repeating. Emily Freeman says this about showing up in our everyday with eyes open and hearts willing.

Learning to live like an artist means opening your eyes to where you live right now, to see who stands around you, and to uncover how you might offer what is most alive in you today into the life of someone else–for their benefit and for God’s glory.

From the book, A Million Little Ways: Uncover the Art You Were Made to Live

I really do long to see each and every day — whether I’m at my best or whether I’m wholly dependent on a strength and grace outside myself — as my real life.

I want to courageously walk the road of audacious gratitude instead of stumbling down the well-worn path of resentment.

I want to die to myself — to my big plans and my big needs and my big claims that I deserve “more” or different than what I currently have.

Do you want these things too? A life that learns to live the discipline of surrender, love, and acceptance?

Well, I found the secret.

You have to die.

{Raise your hand if you’re still glad you tuned in for this uplifting and encouraging post.}

Yesterday a friend reminded me that life can only come out of death. I can’t stop thinking about it. Because it’s true. Being a life-giving source to those around me requires certain death. I wish I could put in more palatable terms but I can’t.

A seed dies before it brings forth new life. A mother bleeds and suffers before the baby can be born. Our own selfishness has to be snuffed out before we can love and nurture with reckless abandon.

A perfect, innocent man had to die a cruel death on a cross in order to save the world. His death is my life — past, present, and future.

I don’t mean to be morbid but every interruption or disappointment hands us a personal invitation. And each answer is a death sentence in its own way.

Yes, I will receive this. I’ll die a small death today. Or even a big one. It’s the only way real life can spring forth.

No, I will resent this. My agenda matters more than this opportunity for redemption and beauty. And because I choose not to die to self, I’ll die a different death, a slow and painful one, poisoned by my own bitterness, ingratitude, and refusal.

The yes or no makes it sound so simple. And it is. But simple is never to be confused with easy. We desperately need a strength outside of ourselves for this one. We need it every single day and for every single death, big or small.

Jesus said that his followers must take up their cross daily and follow him.

For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. {Luke 9:24}

For those who are in Christ, we have the strength already. It’s not a formula or a magical incantation. It’s a Person. It’s Jesus, the One who died so that we might live. The One who died so that we may also learn to die, many thousands of times, in order that we might live more fully and that we might be more fully alive for others.

This is redemption. And it comes around every day, asking to be seen and touched and tasted. It shows up in disappointment and in the unplanned. It shows up when we’re caught off guard and exhausted. It shows up in need and annoyance and downright beggary. It shows up in the fear and in the fights.

At first glance, it may not be pretty. Will you look for it anyway? Will you see the invitation that lies just beneath the frustration or even the devastation?

Will you say, Yes, I’ll die this death, that I might live full and free and flat-out shocked by the transformed beauty I almost missed?

Will you seek redemption along with me and bask in the unlikeliest surprise of what it just might yield?

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