September 2nd marked my tenth first day of homeschooling my four beautiful children. This year I’ll be teaching Nathan, Josiah, Lydia, and Titus - 9th, 7th, 5th, and 3rd grades respectively.
Year after year I sense the stretching, the refinement, the growth - and not only in my students, but also in myself. And I’m beyond grateful for it.
I’ve come a long way since the very first first day…
Back during our dating days when my husband and I would dream about how many children we might have and what house we would have to live in to make room for them all; it really wasn’t a question or conversation of whether or not we would homeschool. It was a given. We knew we were called to it. I was going to stay home and raise my children, and having my hand in their education was a part of that package.
When we started growing our family, I became preoccupied with just keeping my first alive. My days were consumed with ensuring he was fed, rested, dry, clean and content. The thought of homeschooling still felt like a calling, but more like a distant, far-off “we’ll-cross-that bridge-when-we-come-to-it” idea.
The years slipped quickly by, and before long I had four children under the age of 5! When I realized that we were nearing what the state calls “compulsory school age” which is the legally mandated range of ages during which children must attend school, I knew that we had not only come to the bridge and needed to cross it, but I could feel the cool mist and hear the gurgling of the waters.
With the reality of not only did I get to start homeschooling but legally I had to, I all of a sudden felt completely overwhelmed and underqualified. I didn’t go to college to become a teacher. I married a pastor and had lots of babies!
However, the Lord doesn’t call us to abandon us, and I remember praying for that truth to grab a hold of my heart.
The night before the first day of our oldest starting Kindergarten, I found my husband in the kitchen. Through tears I expressed that I was feeling completely overwhelmed and doubting that I could “do it.” Feelings of inadequacy were choking all of the confidence that I had mustered up. I most certainly did not feel ready.
Now, I was “ready” in the sense of having purchased the curriculum that was sitting neatly on the desk in the schoolroom upstairs. The pencils were sharpened and the room vacuumed. I had mapped out a schedule. I had organized a shelf with brightly colored counting bears and cars to aid in teaching math. I even had a paper chain hanging from the walls for the number of lessons that we would complete.
I was ready logistically…but mentally and emotionally, my heart felt like it was about to jump into the deep end and I wasn’t very confident in my treading ability.
My husband kindly listened to me express my fears and voice my self-doubt, and then he responded with something that I’ve never been able to forget - even an entire decade later.
I was hoping for something along the lines of, ‘It’s okay; everyone gets nervous when starting something new.’ Or maybe even, ‘You’re going to crush it, because you’re simply amazing!’ Or at the very least, ‘Well, let’s just give it a shot, and if it doesn’t work out, we can always give public school a try.’ But I got none of those things.
On the heels of me voicing how I didn’t feel like I could do it - that I was feeling overwhelmed and underqualified - that I didn’t think that I had what it takes… he responded with,
“Good, now you’ll take it seriously.”
Good, now you’ll take it seriously??
His shocking response seemingly disregarded my vulnerable and emotional state. But as the truth of his words sunk in, I realized that he wasn’t speaking to my vulnerable emotions. He was speaking to something much bigger… my calling.
My children’s education - really the springboard of their success - was resting in my hands. I was the one who was going to have to search out and purchase the curriculum. I was the one who would set up the schedules and teach the lessons. I was the one who would have to hold them accountable to do the work. It was my burden that I would feel and carry and bear, and he was simply acknowledging and validating it.
And it was that night in the kitchen where I fully realized the gravity of what I was getting myself into. It was a responsibility that I wasn’t going to take lightly.
My husband ended up praying over me and for my tomorrow. And with tears still running down my face, I left the kitchen. I realized that his tough-love response was exactly what I needed to hear.
Heading upstairs I switched gears as I still had a baby to nurse, a 2-year-old to snuggle, a 4-year-old to read a bedtime book to, and a very excited about-to-be kindergartener to tuck into bed. After putting the children to bed - and myself as well - I woke up the next morning and started on a journey that has become one of the hardest, most beautiful and fruitful things that I’ve ever thrown myself into.
Every year I feel the burden, the weight, the call. And I carry it all throughout the school year.
Some years feel heavier than others. There have been seasons where I’ve grown lonely or distracted or longing for it to be easier. One particular year was especially challenging trying to teach an unmotivated student, and I was tempted to quit on more than one occasion. Being a homeschool mom is signing up to be teacher, principal, guidance counselor, P.E. instructor, cheerleader, coach, and lunch lady. It’s a lot. But then, as always, the Lord reminds me of the call and has me look over my shoulder in my yesterdays to notice that He was walking with me all along. I haven’t gone one single day without His goodness and grace.
There have been some hard days, yes. But there has also been a plethora of incredible moments and days as well. We’ve ate muffins on Mondays and frequented the library on Tuesdays. We’ve done school on Saturdays and throughout the summer. We’ve had Devotion Breaks under the weeping willow in the front yard, sipping on green tea and munching on apples and cheese. We’ve gone on walks and picnics. We’ve slept in and have had late starts. We’ve worked when everyone else is playing so we can play when everyone else is working. Snow days are typically school days for us, but we’ve also cancelled school to go skiing or (in the summer) boating. We’ve gone on field trips and day trips and beach trips, flexibility being our very best friend.
There have been summers where I've allowed myself to sleep in and wind down so I could start - and complete - projects that had been long-anticipated during the demanding school year. It’s also in the summer where the project of cleaning out the school room with its old curriculum and books to make room for the new sits on the back burner of my mind. And then there’s the stress of having to do my due diligence to search for and order the new grades for my four students, praying that what I’ve selected will be met with thumbs up all around.
It’s a burden and a stress and hard - but I’ve learned over the course of my marriage, mothering, and ministry that “Everything worth doing usually is [hard].”
I believe that we choose our hard. And my hard is most likely different than yours, but at the end of the day, we’re graced for it. Conditioned for it even. And hard things usually produce the most beautiful kind of fruit. The fruit that lasts.
So as I look back on the last nine years of educating my children, I realize that nothing has changed from my first day to my tenth first day. I’m still called to it. I’m still taking it seriously. I still have moments of feeling overwhelmed, being in the deep end, unsure of my treading ability. But my years of having my “hand to the plow,” of showing up when I feel like it (and even when I don’t), of being consistent, fun, and gracious, and of being committed to learn and grow right alongside them… well, the fruit speaks for itself.
If I were to assess, I’d say that I don’t need the Lord in my homeschooling less - I need Him more! Honestly, I can’t do it without Him.
He’s given me hope on the hard days - that His mercies are new every morning. He’s reminded me that all of it is just a season… and if I’m not diligent on being fully present, I’ll miss the best parts. He’s shown me that my weakness plus His strength is exactly enough, and that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me (Philippians 4:13).
Even and especially on my tenth first day.