Looking for Answers

Things still feel rough around here.  I still feel like I'm searching for answers.  I've made some progress on the track of practical solutions.  But I also have to admit that practical solutions are, at best, a temporary relief.  But (I should know this by now!) the answers that are of eternal good, that help despite the circumstances are the ones that transcend the circumstances.

Through a series of (super encouraging, life-giving) conversations with my brother and my mom, the Lord led me to 2 Corinthians 4.  I was looking for that "jars of clay" passage and I found more than I bargained for to nourish my soul.  This is what I am thinking on and praying today.


Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart.

[Having this ministry.  It's a mercy.  That's a new thought.  And it's a reason not to lose heart.  Interesting.  Help me not to lose heart, Lord.  And to think of this ministry to my family as a mercy.]

But we have renounced disgraceful, underhanded ways. We refuse to practice cunning or to tamper with God's word, but by the open statement of the truth we would commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.

[I'm here for the gospel.  It's not my job to train my children to perform academic parlor tricks that make me look like an expert.  It's not my job to convince others that I've found the right or best way to homeschool so that I can gain a following.  It's not even my job to arrange things so that I feel successful.  It's about the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.  Help me, Lord!]

For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake.  For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

[I'm not here to seek my own kingdom.  I'm here to serve my children for the sake of Jesus.  Light of the Knowledge of the Glory of God ... in the face of Jesus Christ ... that sounds like it might be something important to keep in mind.  That sounds like the foundations of a purpose statement for our homeschool.]

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.

[Oh, Lord!  Oh, Lord!  That thought both humbles me ... and raises me up.  I am a jar of clay, Lord.  Weak and broken.  And yet ... that isn't an accident?  The fact that you've entrusted these children, this task of proclaiming life-giving truth to real human beings, to someone who is so lowly, so insignificant and so, so frail herself ... that was a part of the plan?  I know what that means - as much as I don't like to admit it.  It means that I should stop holding my breath, stop longing for that day when I'm independent of your mercy, strong enough to cope without grace, too savvy to need to cry out to you in prayer.  I really do want the world to know that the surpassing power belongs to you.  And honestly, Lord, right now, the way you've got it set up, I don't think anyone would mistake me for the source!]

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.

[How much suffering can I handle?  How long can I last?  How hard is too hard?  It seems like there must be this delicate balance, Lord.  This tiny margin between "afflicted" and "crushed", between "perplexed" and "despairing".  How could I find that small space?  How would I know how to measure out my own suffering?  How would I know how much my body could handle to have Jesus manifest in it today?  If I am afflicted, Lord, let it be from your hand.  Let no one else strike me down, Lord, but you, whom I trust to work death in me, and yet hold me back from being destroyed.]

Since we have the same spirit of faith according to what has been written, "I believed, and so I spoke," we also believe, and so we also speak, knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his presence. For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.

[This is the big picture, this eternal, kingdom goal - more grace to more people, more thanksgiving, more glory to God.  That is a big, big thing to be a part of.  That gives purpose and hope beyond what I can accomplish in a day, even in a lifetime.]

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison ....

[Is it overly dramatic, Lord, at age 37 to say that my outer self is wasting away?  Because it does feel like a wasting away.  And yet, if the counterpart to that is my inner self being renewed day by day, then no time is too soon to embrace that pattern.  Momentary.  Light.  Affliction.  Eternal.  Weight.  Glory.  I believe, Lord, but help my unbelief.  Keep me, here, from being crushed.  And then, in eternity, crush me with that eternal weight.  Smother me with your glory. I'll be ready for it.  I'll be desperate for it.]

... as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. 

[See, that's just where my struggle is, Lord.  The "seen" is so much easier to "see" than the unseen.  But I suppose you're trying to remind me that how easy something is to see has a lot to do with where I am looking.]

Do the Next Thing

I just love this poem.  Some sites credit it to Elizabeth Elliot.  Others mention that she shared it as from an anonymous author.  I haven't been able to find out for sure who wrote it, so I'll leave it unattributed for now.  I have had a copy of this poem for quite some time and think of it often.  But recently it seems to have risen to the surface of my soul as a kind of "theme song" of our homeschool (or at least the theme song of my own processing of thoughts about our homeschool).

Do The Next Thing

From an old English parsonage,
Down by the sea,
There came in the twilight,
A message to me;
Its quaint Saxon legend,
Deeply engraven,
Hath, as it seems to me,
Teaching from Heaven.
And on through the hours
The quiet words ring
Like a low inspiration
 “DO THE NEXT THING.”

Many a questioning, many a fear,
Many a doubt, hath its quieting here.
Moment by moment,
Let down from Heaven,
Time, opportunity,
Guidance, are given.
Fear not tomorrows,
Child of the King, 
Trust them with Jesus,
“DO THE NEXT THING.”

Do it immediately;
Do it with prayer;
Do it reliantly, casting all care;
Do it with reverence,
Tracing His Hand,
Who placed it before thee with 
Earnest command.
Stayed on Omnipotence,
Safe 'neath His wing,
Leave all resultings,
“DO THE NEXT THING.”

Looking to Jesus, ever serener,
(Working or suffering)
Be thy demeanor,
In His dear presence,
The rest of His calm,
The light of His countenance
Be thy psalm,
Strong in His faithfulness,
Praise and sing,
Then, as He beckons thee,
“DO THE NEXT THING."
-Author unknown

Just a random picture that makes me smile.

Textbooks and Training Wheels

I wrote the very first post for this blog (with the same graphic) early one Monday morning before the kids were up.  I had a crazy plan.  I had been talking to my dad and my brother some about it.  And I wanted to start documenting it from the beginning.  So I started the blog.  I meant to talk about the training wheels analogy at some point.  And I meant to talk about why I would think about going without textbooks.  And then life kinda happened.  And this whole journey churned up a lot of other thoughts to process that ended up as blog posts.  So, here I am again, back to the start to finish what I began.  What does this blog have to do with training wheels?

We had our first homebirth with the birth of our fourth baby.  While part of me thought "I wish I had done it this way all along!" another part of me wondered if I really would have been up for that.  Perhaps, in God's providence, it was the right thing for me to have a few babies in the hospital before coming across the idea of homebirth.  I feel the same way about going without textbooks.  I haven't even finally decided if this will work for us.  But I feel pretty sure that it wouldn't have worked for me from the beginning (though I am sure that there are plenty of moms out there who take off sans-textbook from the word go).  I needed time to get my balance, so to speak, and, honestly, to mature a little bit.  That is why I use the analogy of training wheels.  I'm glad I learned to homeschool with textbooks.  Now I'd like to try without and see if we can enjoy and manage the freedom (and risk!).

However, I want to be very clear that I didn't choose that analogy because I wanted to set no-textbooks as superior to or more sophisticated than using textbooks.  I don't even see it as something that all homeschooling moms are or should be working towards.  It was just that on that Monday morning, our new experiment felt to me like taking the training wheels of my bike for the first time.  Exhilarating ... yet terrifying!

So many times as I read through Teaching from Rest, I felt like Sarah Mackenzie had reached into my own brain, scooped out my half-formed thoughts and composed them into eloquent, coherent sentences.  Here's one example that applies to this discussion:

Whether or not you purchase open-and-go curriculum doesn't really matter.  You can pretty much forget all the heated discussions about whether you are caving in to school-at-home if you use traditional workbooks or a straight-from-the-box curriculum.  I know successful homeschooling families who use textbooks and successful homeschooling families who eschew them.  I don't think that's a relevant debate to be having if you want to teach from rest and become happy, content, peaceful and effective homeschooling moms.

If I have one point to argue about using textbooks, it isn't that you should or shouldn't.  It's just that you don't have to.  I don't yet  know which camp I will land in.  As this point, I think it likely we'll use textbooks for some subjects and not for others.  But either way, this experiment has been worth it, because I now know that I can decide based on what works best for us!

Flu and Freedom

After Hazel's surgery, Matt got the flu.  And then he kindly shared it with each of us in turn.  I thought I had the worst of it Saturday, Sunday and Monday.  I was wrong.  Tuesday was so bad I had to ask Matt to stay home from work.  Yesterday I was just barely well enough to be the grown-up in charge.  And it was a wonderful day.  Not in every way.  But in some ways of good, long-term importance.

Sarah Mackenzie, author of Teaching from Rest also has a blog and a podcast.  (See ... that's why I didn't want to read her book.  What kind of normal mother of six children can do those things?  Plus in her blog pictures, she looks perky.  And showered.  Clearly she is in super-woman territory and I don't fit in that category.  But I digress ...).  The same friend who finally convinced me to read Teaching from Rest has also been "pestering" (and I use that term in the nicest possible way) me to check out Sarah's podcast.  There is a members-only side of the site that includes author events, extra resources and what she calls "Master Classes".

So, because I was stuck in bed and needed encouragement even more than I needed physical healing (which is saying a lot) I decided to take the plunge.  After all, I am forever grateful that I finally gave in and read Teaching from Rest.  So the chances were good this friend knows me well enough to know what will bless my soul.  I took a Master Class she recommended (and was also taking) called "Focus and Align" and it was UH-mazing.

Sarah led us through several steps in considering our particular family, our gifts, what works for us and what is important to us.  For example, in one of the exercises, Sarah asked us to imagine that our children were sitting down to a meal with friends some 20 years from now and someone asks "So, you were homeschooled. What was that like?"  What words do I hope will come to mind?  What are the things that I most want my children to remember as their experience of childhood and homeschool?

These activities helped to take me beyond the ground-level focus on "math" and "handwriting" and more towards the goals, practices and atmosphere of my home.  We then used this thinking and exploration to create our family "Rule of Six" - six things that are foundational to our family and which we hope to do every day.  Here is how ours turned out.  (And below it are two other prettier versions from my Sarah Mackenzie-pushing friend that she fancied up for me!)

I completed this activity Tuesday evening.  By Wednesday, when I was on my own again with all the kiddos, somehow, "homeschool" seemed more manageable.  If these were the six most important things to do every day, in big, broad brush strokes, then I could adapt them to something I could do from the bed as well.  In fact, we opened our homeschool day by talking about our new "Rule of Six".  The kids were excited.  Tonight at dinner we talked about what we did yesterday and today that involved each item on the list.  It may seem like a small thing, but it reminded this Mama that good, important and grace-infused things are happening right here, every day.  Even on flu days.

P.S. Our assignment was to make up our own Rule of Six and share it on social media, tagged #RARruleof6.  If you want to see what other folks have come up with, check out that hashtag.  What is so beautiful is that they are all different!  There is not one "expert version".  We are each the experts on our own homes and our own children!

All You Need to Know

While Teaching from Rest (and the companion material) has been inspiring my soul and driving my contemplation of why I am doing what I am doing, Math on the Level has inspired contemplation into the how of our homeschooling.  But then it got more interesting.  There has been a fascinating interplay between the two sources.  And it has been this convergence of ideas that has kept me searching and experimenting!

A long time ago I recognized in myself a propensity to create frustration for myself by stewing over what my children should be able to do.  "She is [x] years old!  She should be able to go upstairs and straighten her room without constant supervision!"  "He is in [x] grade!  He should be able to read at a higher level!"  "She should be able to focus on her work for more than [x] minutes at a time!"  "It should not take a [x]-year-old this long to [complete a given task]!"

But where do all these "shoulds" come from?  If I'm honest with myself, they come from the fact that I decide how well I am doing as a mother by comparing myself to other mothers and their children.  Not only is this a shaky and inaccurate way to determine if I'm doing my job well, it fosters an attitude of competition rather than cooperation.  If your kid does worse, my kid looks better, right?  It's hard not to take satisfaction in your failures if they make me look like I have a leg up. And, as destructive as it can be to friendships to compare myself and my children with others, it is far more destructive to my children.

But what if you aren't comparing your children to other real-life children, just to "theoretical" children or "the average child"?  Isn't there some value, you might ask, in knowing what a "fourth grader" should be able to read or in having clear expectations for a "three year old"?  Well, yes and no.

When I taught in a public school setting, it was necessary for someone (in our case the Virginia Department of Education via the Standards of Learning) to organize material by grade level simply to facilitate the division of labor.  If the third grade teachers and the fourth grade teachers both taught Virginia history and nobody covered Ancient Rome, there would be a problem.  It was also useful to have math and language topics arranged by relative complexity to give teachers a general understanding of what concepts were reasonable to teach to a Kindergartener as compared to a fifth grader.

But what if you remove the division-of-labor factor?  What if you are a homeschool mom?  Or, what if you are a parent teaching your child a skill like putting away the silverware, sitting quietly in church or keeping her attention on a job?  Yes, it is still helpful to know what is reasonable to expect at a given age or stage.  But in another sense, it is somewhat irrelevant.

Let's say, for whatever reason, based on whatever statistical or anecdotal evidence, I'm convinced that my child should be further along in math or reading or should be able to sit still in church better than she does.  How much of an impact should that have on what I do today or tomorrow?  Regardless of where you start out this morning, what you should expect from your child today is one day's worth of progress.

In his conversation with Sarah Mackenzie, Andrew Kern said, "To what level has my child mastered this skill?  And what is next?  Nothing else matters."  I tend to agree.  I need to know where my child is.  And I need to know what the next step is in helping him grow.  And that's it.  Yes, it's OK to have a general concept of what you're aiming for.  And it's OK to observe how your child compares to "the average child" as a part of understanding his strengths and weaknesses.  But when it comes down to today, the task is still the same: make one day's worth of progress on the journey.

Math on the Level has shown me a practical way to do both of those things - know where my child is and decide where to go from here - and with less of a focus on the "should" of other children.  I love it when ideas from different venues harmonize!

Letting Go

My mother has always been a master of illustrations and analogies.  I can still vividly recall dozens of picture images she used to explain spiritual and intangible concepts to us as children and even now that we are adults.  Once a few years ago at a gathering of young moms, she used the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000 with five loaves and two fish as an analogy for our job as mothers.  There is no possible way we can accomplish feeding 5,000 hungry people (raising our children to godly adulthood) in our own strength.  Instead we must allow him to use our bread and fish (our gifts and resources) to accomplish his purposes.

Sarah Mackenzie uses this same analogy in Teaching from Rest in Part One: Whose "Well Done" Are You Working For? (Please note: Even if you aren't a homeschool mom, please keep reading.  This has nothing to do with homeschooling - really - and everything to do with being a finite human tasked with kingdom work!)

Just like the disciples, I see this huge throng of people to feed - this seeming impossibility.  The shaping of souls and raising of children, the mopping of floors, washing of dishes, bandaging of scraped knees and hearts and worries, the teaching and admonishing and doling out myself.  It's all too much ... I fall to my knees and I cry out to God.  We're a throng of hungry people in the desert, and I'm supposed to feed them. On an ordinary Monday, I am in need of a miracle of biblical proportions.  

It isn't that I have nothing, exactly.  I have my little basket.  I can read aloud pretty well.  I'm good at organizing things on paper.  I can make a decent pot of chili and I know how to push a vacuum.  I love my children with all of my being and I have a real desire to watch them grow to love and serve Him.  I don't really have any idea how I'm supposed to tackle everything ahead of me in this day, this year, this decade when that's all I've got.  It's just a couple of loaves of bread and a few fish. 

Apparently that's all He needs.

As I have contemplated this recently, one thought that came to mind was that the little boy who brought the loaves and the fish had to do something really hard.  Offering his food to the Lord meant letting go of the only thing he had.  He was a hungry person in the desert, too, after all.  He didn't get to hold back on a loaf or two, giving the rest to the Lord for miracle-working.  He had to give it all up.

I don't want to try to read things into this Biblical account that aren't intended to be there.  God doesn't tell us (and if he doesn't, he must have his reasons) how the boy was feeling, if he had much time to contemplate the request or if his parents were there to help him process it all.  The only thing we know is that he gave all his food away, that he (like everyone else) was fed until he had enough and that his letting go was one small part of the unfolding of God's plan.

So what does it look like to "let go"?  Does that mean sitting on the sofa and waiting around for God to work?  Does it mean making no plans or refraining from giving my children any structure or direction?  Does it mean that planning, activity and effort are signs of resistance and rebellion?

I'm still chewing on this thought, still working through what it looks like to trust the Lord with my gifts and resources, to use them to seek first his kingdom and trust that "all these things" will be added unto me.  But one place I have been convicted is my lack of prayer.  (What follows are my own reflections on me.  Apply only as applicable.)

If I'm honest, I have to admit that when I'm up in the morning before the children, I find far more comfort in using a 15 or 20 minute chunk of time to get some laundry started, pay some bills or do something else that gives me a feeling of productivity and a foothold on the day, than I do taking that time to pray.  I don't think that Scripture requires us to pray for 20 minutes every morning or to pray every morning or to pray instead of paying bills or anything specific like that.  However, I do know that my heart usually runs first to "doing" rather than to "trusting".

Sarah Mackenzie writes,

An indispensable part of bringing our basket, prayer puts aside "doing" in favor of "being" and "becoming": being in his presence and becoming more like Him.

It's not that prayer is a twisting of God's arm to enforce the meeting of our desires.  Rather, prayer - handing over my basket to God - is a way for me to acknowledge that it was never mine to begin with and that I'm OK with him using it however he sees fit.  I'll leave you with two more gems from Teaching from Rest ...

Before we attempt to live a day well, teach our children, or tackle our to-dos, first we put the whole thing at his feet.  We beg God to use us to fulfill His purpose, and then we see that every frustration in the day ahead is an answer to that very prayer. [emphasis mine]

We are weary because we forget about grace.  We act as though God showing up is the miracle.  But guess what?  God's showing up is a given.  Grace is a fact.

Why would I not want to start my day by soaking in that truth for a while?

Staff Development Day

I'll be honest; this has been a tough week.

Monday: Toddler breaks arm at 10 am, day spent visiting doctors, night spent comforting a hurting child.

Tuesday: Spent in a hospital, including handing over my weeping toddler to strangers for my first ever experience of one of my children under general anesthesia.

Wednesday - Thursday: Husband has the flu and is out of commission entirely.

Friday: I'm toast.  And I'm an emotional basket case.  And today is my baby's first birthday.  Cause for thanksgiving and celebration, but also cause for reflecting on the past year which has, without a doubt, been the hardest. year. yet.

So, we did some light chores (regular stuff for a Friday) and now I'm giving myself a day to reflect and process, which I do best through writing.  I've actually been processing through writing for years, but in the form of documents on my computer.  I never felt comfortable blogging because I never felt like I had any "answers".  Now I've realized that what I have to share isn't answers, but questions - the journey, not the endpoint.  And it is such a relief to share.  So maybe I'll get caught up on the blog?

Side note: I don't know how anyone ever managed to homeschool (and stay sane) before Netflix and Amazon Prime Instant Video.

Psalm 25 for Mommies

Other periods in history have had their challenges, no doubt.  Please don't misunderstand.  I'm not pining to parent in the Middle Ages or anything.  But it is certain that one of the parenting challenges of the time we live in (in this culture at least) are the dizzying number of choices and the staggering expectations (both external and self-imposed) to produce really amazing children.  And you don't have to be a homeschool mom to feel the pressure.

Yesterday I read Psalm 25 and found it just what I needed.

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.
O my God, in you I trust;
let me not be put to shame;
let not my enemies exult over me.
Indeed, none who wait for you shall be put to shame;
they shall be ashamed who are wantonly treacherous.

[Lord, I confess ... I'm afraid of being put to shame.  What if I mess it all up?  What if I invest all these years ... and then the world just laughs?]

Make me to know your ways, O Lord,
teach me your paths.
Lead me in your truth and teach me,
for you are the God of my salvation;
for you I wait all the day long.

[I'm waiting on you, Lord.  Well, I'm trying to wait on you.  Help me to wait on you, to look to you for wisdom and not to the hundreds of other places I'm tempted to run.  I want to be a good teacher.  And I want to learn from the best.]

Remember your mercy, O Lord, and your steadfast love,
for they have been from of old.
Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions;
according to your steadfast love remember me,
for the sake of your goodness, O Lord!

[Yes, Lord, please do wipe away the sins of my youth.  And the sins of this week, too, please.  And help me to remember that you cleanse me of these sins to demonstrate something about yourself - your steadfast love and your goodness.]

Good and upright is the Lord;
therefore he instructs sinners in the way.
He leads the humble in what is right,
and teaches the humble his way.

[There is it right there.  That's the characteristic I most need in order to be a great mom.  Humility.  Not intelligence.  Not diligence.  Not creativity.  Humility.  He instructs sinners.  I just need to know that I am one.]

All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness,
for those who keep his covenant and his testimonies.
For your namesake, O Lord, pardon my guilt, for it is great.
Who is the man who fears the Lord?
Him will he instruct in the way that he should choose.
His soul shall abide in well-being,
and his offspring shall inherit the land.

[I want that, Lord.  I want to abide in that well-being.  I want my offspring to inherit your eternal country.  Help me to fear you, Lord; instruct me in the way I should choose.]

The friendship of the Lord is for those who fear him,
and he makes know to them his covenant.
My eyes are ever toward the Lord,
For he will pluck my feet out of the net.

[And there seem so many nets.  Fear of man.  Resentment towards those who make demands on my time.  Bitterness towards the trials you bring for my good and sanctification.  Loosing sight of the eternal goal and the purpose for which I was created.  Pluck me out.]

Turn to me and be gracious to me,
for I am lonely and afflicted.
The troubles of my heart are enlarged;
bring me out of my distresses.
Consider my affliction and my trouble,
and forgive all my sins.

[Lord, it's so messy.  There are problems on the outside.  But there are also problems that come from inside me.  And sometimes the biggest problem is distinguishing between them!  Please would you comfort me in those trials that you bring from without, reveal and forgive those that arise out of my own heart?]

Consider how many are my foes
and with what violent hatred they hate me.
Oh, guard my soul and deliver me!
Let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you.
May integrity and uprightness preserve me, for I wait for you.

[That's it, Lord!  That's what it looks like not to be put to shame!  It looks like being preserved in integrity and uprightness.  Not being put to shame doesn't mean that the world stands up and applauds.  It means that the world sees that my God preserves his people from falling away.  Deliverance isn't necessarily a rescue from external circumstances, but it is you guarding and delivering my soul as I pass through them!]

Redeem Israel, O God, out of all his troubles.

[Help me to remember, Lord.  Even what's happening to me isn't really about me.  It's about carrying out your plan, throughout all of time, to redeem and rescue your people, for the glory of your name.  Humble me, Lord, preserve me, and teach me.]

Morning School Time and Personal Limitations

Here I talked about what got me thinking about changing up our Math curriculum.  And here I talked about hearing of Teaching from Rest but being afraid to read it.  And then it was fall. And it was time to start.  One small change I made last fall which did a great deal to smooth the schedule was to move as much learning as I possibly could to "morning school time".

 We established "morning school time" way back.  As a matter of fact, we used to call it "singing time" because when the children were smaller, we sang everything we possibly could.  If you need recommendations on history songs, skip counting songs, science songs, geography songs, songs on the Westminster Shorter Catechism ... you name it, we sang it.  I loved that.  I really did.  It was so fun.  They enjoyed it.  I enjoyed it.  We learned, we talked and we all enjoyed it!

But as some of the children got older and began to have more "serious school work" more and more was taking place in the afternoon in the form of written work.  As in, things that Mama has to check and return for corrections.  And more checking.  And more corrections.  And things left undone and hanging over my head until the next day.  Slog.  Dread.  Drag.  Kiddos and Mama alike.

So this year I determined that we'd do as much as we possibly could together, out loud, discussion-format, assessment via conversation.  We were already doing history and science together (more on those in another post).  Instead of buying the "activity books" to go along with their Latin curriculum, I decided just to subscribe to the activity website and do the practice games together during morning school time.

But still, language/reading skills and math skills were something that seemed they should still be done individually because, well, weren't those developmental types of things that kids of different ages couldn't learn together?  So those activities continued to be afternoon paper-and-pencil lessons.

However, there was now so much stuffed into our day that  our schedule felt overwhelming.  The minute my feet hit the floor in the morning, I felt like I would have to take off running and not stop until bedtime.  Enough to make a girl want to swing her legs right back into the bed and not attempt it at all.  For me, a schedule detailed down to the fifteen minute inverval sounds about as appealing as volunteering for slow death by strangulation.

You see, for so long, I have lived as if the progression goes like this:

1. Figure out what a "good mom" is supposed to do.
2. Do it.
3. Suck it up and don't complain.

True confession: I never was very good at that process.  Well, I was pretty good at Step 1.  In fact, I think I have an unhealthy, overactive imagination for Step 1.  Steps 2 and especially 3, not so much.

But what if that's not really how it works.  What if what a mom is "supposed" to do is to know herself (and her kids) to know her personal limitations, to know what really sparks her enthusiasm (and therefore overflows to her children) and to makes plans and choices accordingly?  "But,"I would ask myself, "if my 'personal limitations' are affecting what I'm able to do for and with my kids, isn't that bad?  Selfish?  Weak?  Lazy?"  And then one day my mom said to me (in a conversation on an unrelated topic, but still very applicable) "It sounds like you're not OK with the fact that you have personal limitations."  Bingo.

And just this morning I read a post a friend sent me on the topic of "breaking busy".  This line jumped out at me and nearly made the tears flow.

Having a limited capacity is not a flaw in my character. It is by glorious design and for an incredible purpose: to realize my need for Him.

And also ...

And that means letting our lives be about what we are meant to do,

what God created us to do,

and not just what we think we ‘should’ do.

My husband always says, "I don't want my kids to turn out like [insert name of amazing family]'s kids."  And when I exclaim in shock and confusion, "You don't?!?!" he says, "I want my kids to be Sutherland kids.  If God had wanted our kids to turn out like [that family's] kids, he would have given them to [that family]."  So wise.

So, perhaps you could say that this blog is about exploring what a "Sutherland kid" is.  Happy Friday, y'all!

Day 2: Conversations with my Self-Doubt

Doubting Self: Wait a minute.  Think about all those visuals in the Kindergarten and First grade math books.  What are you going to do - draw clocks and coins by hand?

Confident Self:  Well, maybe I will!  I could totally do that!  Or I'm sure I could find images on-line and cut and paste.

Doubting Self: Right.  How dumb. You could just spend $15 and buy the textbook instead of making it all from scratch.

Confident Self: Or, maybe we won't even need much of that.  Since we're moving towards "living math" maybe we'll just use real clocks and real money.  Isn't that even better than pictures of clocks and money??

Doubting Self:  Sure, sure.  I'm sure you'll have tons of time to just sit around with your Kindergartener playing with clocks and coins.  No sweat.  You only have FOUR older students who have way more complicated math to learn.  Can we say "burnout"??

Confident Self: But ... but ... OK, I admit it!  I don't know how this is going to work out!  And maybe I will decide to go back to how we were doing it before - and that would be OK!!  But this is just an experiment.  And we haven't even completed a week of it.  So, could you ... could you just be quiet and leave me alone!?!

Doubting Self: ...

Confident Self: ...

Another Seed Planted

Last summer, just before school was officially about to begin, I was dreading starting back again.  The summer had been lovely.  Freedom.  Flexibility.  Exploring concepts and topics that I loved and, therefore, was enthusiastic about teaching and sharing.  We learned to play the recorder.  We read about the planets and did science experiments.  We studied the geography of the Old Testament.  But now, the ball and chain of "real school" was looming and I couldn't even pretend to be excited about it.  Life seemed to stretch out ahead ... a long, dreary couple of decades of getting out of bed day after day to slog through an exhausting "push" to get kids to do stuff they didn't really want to do.  Ugh.

Now don't get me wrong.  I'm not of the opinion that the "fun-o-meter" is the most accurate measure of the success of our homeschool.  And there is certainly value (much, in fact) in learning how to cheerfully face challenges and do things that are not your cup of tea.  There is benefit in teaching people to persevere and push through.  Mama included.

But there is also value in making careful, informed decisions about how to spend limited resources.  And at this moment in our family (seven children ages ten and under, including a nursing baby) one of the most limited resources is Mama's energy.  To be specific, Mama's cheerful-power - which is exhausted about 15-35% before the end of total energy expenditure.

Enter a chance conversation at church.  The son and daughter-in-law of friends were in town for the weekend along with their several children.  When I passed her in the nursery, I asked how she was doing and, providentially, we had a sincere and heartfelt conversation about the energy expenditure that is homeschooling.

There was too much to that conversation to record here, but the main idea is summarized in the book she recommended.  I got the book, but I didn't read it.  A least not then.  I was secretly worried that it would tell me to do things differently than I was doing them and that I would feel guilty, inadequate, overwhelmed or all three.  Looking back, it turns out, that was pretty ironic.

Teaching from Rest: A Homeschooler's Guide to Unshakable Peace by Sarah Mackenzie

How it All Began ...

The kids are busy working.  So far they are excited about the new 5-A-Day binders.  But more on that later.  Let's talk about how I first got this bee in my bonnet.  One afternoon several weeks ago the two littlest were sleeping and the others were playing outside.  Except Luke.  Luke was sitting at a card table in the school room drawing (specifically he was working on the components for his latest board game invention).  He said "Ahh.  Leaning over a table with a pencil in my hand.  That is where I love to be." Joking, I quipped, "So, I bet you love to do your math, then, huh?"  Immediately he responded, "Not really.  With math, you are just following the directions and doing what someone else tells you to do.  There really isn't a chance to be creative and make your own choices."

Of course, I understand what he's expressing.  But my heart sank.  In our family growing up, math was (still is!) something you talk about for fun.  I can remember driving somewhere on vacation and have a discussion about how much time you would save per distance you had to drive by driving five miles an hour over the speed limit.  That's just one example.

So.  When math is just following directions ... when your strongest math student dreads math ... what is a mother to do?  It got me thinking.  Something was boiling under the surface.  But that is where it stayed for several months.  Until recently.

Hello, Monday! Want to try something crazy?

It's Monday morning, January 25, 2016.  Not quite 6:30 a.m.  And I am about to embark on a journey.  Will you join me?  I've come to think of this as taking the training wheels off of our homeschool.  Will I (we?) enjoy the freedom of two-wheel riding?  Or will I (we?) crash and burn?  This is an experiment, and I've decided to write it all down for posterity (or laughs, whichever).

Last Friday it began to snow here in our little suburb of Richmond, Virginia.  Homeschooling was temporarily put on hold (even homeschools need snow days, right?) and while the kids were off snow-adventuring (or recovering from previous snow-adventuring) I was thinking about math.  And thoughts of math expanded into thoughts about all of our homeschool in general.  And then I began to wonder if we could homeschool without buying textbooks.  [insert maniacal laugh]

I'm going to keep this first post brief so that I can actually tackle the project at hand.  Later on I'll try to record the thought process by "flashback", interspersed among posts about how progress is unfolding.  But here are some tidbits.  This new adventure is all about spreadsheets and face-to-face conversation.  Sound like two incompatible concepts?  They just might be.  It all remains to be seen.  And now, I'm off.  I need to take a socket wrench to our daily plans.  In a manner of speaking.