Friday, March 20, 2009





True Confessions of a Homeschooling Mom
Hello, my name is Michele and I am a homeschooler.
Yes, I’ve been at this for awhile and I know that it is the best choice for my family. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Phillipians 4:13 is true and that God will equip me and strengthen me to do the job. I love my children and consider myself blessed to be able to truly get to know them, to spend time with them and to help shape them into the people God is calling them to become. Homeschooling is truly the best choice I’ve ever made, apart from choosing to follow Christ with my life.
But…..
Sometimes I feel like I’m failing my kids.
Sometimes, I see that big yellow bus when I’m drinking my morning coffee and wonder if they wouldn’t have been better off in public school.
Sometimes, I want to run away and join the circus, or lock myself in my room with a bag of Hershey’s kisses, or have five minutes of time to myself to sort out my thoughts. Just sayin’. Sometimes, those things are just as true.

The thing is, when I get too focused on the wrong things, I lose my perspective. I’ve had my fair share of messes and mistakes along the homeschool journey. There have been days when I’ve lost my temper, or yelled at my children. There have been days when I felt like any certified teacher would surely be a better alternative to my frazzled, frustrated, worn- out self. There have been days when my objective was the standardized test, the academic performance, or what the neighbors think when we end up outside in the middle of the afternoon. I’ve spent too much energy on other people’s opinions, comparisons and commentary.
Over the years, I’ve learned not to give too much power to my fears. Yes, I’m flawed and fallible. I’m not the perfect teacher or the perfect parent….but I am the perfect teacher and parent for my children, because God put me in that role. I am equipped to shepherd them through life, helping them navigate the waters of toddlerhood, adolescence and the teen years and all of the emotional and spiritual ups and downs during those years. I’m equipped to help them learn to spell, to read, to write and to learn about the world around them, as well. It’s all in the perspective.
If I focus daily on meeting academic goals and standards set forth by the powers that be, the latest classical education trend, or even the curriculum I choose, I am setting myself up. All of those things—standards of learning, curricula, scope and sequence, learning style profiles—have a place and a value, if I use them as tools to help me in my journey instead of allowing them to be task masters. One of the beauties of homeschooling is that I get to be in charge! I get to choose what we study, how much time we spend on the topic and when we go outside….no matter what the neighbors think. We can garden and paint, journal and cook, do science experiments and read great literature….it’s up to me.
I have found that when I give myself the freedom to pay attention to my kids, to observe their passions and interests and to invest in their hearts—what they love—then our school has a greater impact. Yes, we have some non-negotiables: math, grammar, writing, but if I give my kids the freedom to learn and give them the confidence to make mistakes, show grace for failures and imperfections, then I’m teaching them that life is about more than the standardized test. Our children aren’t cookie cutter people, God wired us for so much more than to be judged on the bell-curve.
After eleven years of homeschooling, I’ve found that the education that has been the most significant is mine. I’ve learned a lot about grace for myself and grace for my children, I’ve learned how silly and superficial I can be and I’ve learned that God has a much bigger agenda for our lives and the lives of our children than can be encompassed in a K-12 core curriculum.
If you are a young homeschool mom, or if you’re simply feeling frustrated and inadequate as you try to juggle the roles of wife, mom and teacher, let me encourage you to relax and enjoy the journey. You are not failing your kids, even when you have days that are failures. Your kids wouldn’t be better off on that big yellow bus, no matter what you might think on a hormonal day. The circus doesn’t provide very good benefits from what I’ve been told, so that’s not a great option either, in spite of the travel opportunity. (However, there is something to be said about a hidden stash of chocolate…) Give yourself permission to fail on some days, have grace for yourself when you do. Give your kids permission to fail at some things, too! Have grace for the fact that they are children, remember that their failures and struggles aren’t about you or your role as their teacher. They are just learning, and you are their best guide—their mom, who loves them and wants what is best. When they turn into young adults who are interested in the things around them, value the things of God and make wise, godly choices---the fact that they stink at spelling or fidget during their math lesson will pale in comparison.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

A little leavening....


leaveneth the whole lump.

I'm becoming a bit obsessed with bread making. Not the bread machine kind, though there's nothing wrong with that. No, I mean the kind of bread that you mix and knead and shape by hand. It's not necessarily perfectly shaped, it might have inconsistencies and irregularities, but that is part of it's beauty. It's therapeutic for me, breadmaking.

I am amazed that you can mix together a few simple ingredients, wait a while, bash it around on the counter a bit and end up with something delicious and fragrant and life-sustaining.

Lately, I've been trying to perfect a type of country french bread-- Pain au levain--that begins as a little cast-off piece of dough from the last batch...the cast-off is fed and grown until it becomes a chef, or a starter, of wild yeast wonderfulness.


Once you get it started, it lasts indefinitely as long as you feed it. Essentially, every loaf you make is a descendant of the first batch--that first little cast off piece of bread dough--and it has in it the necessary leavening to cause new loaves to rise. I know, it doesn't take a lot to amaze and amuse me, but this is a miracle in a crock, people!

So today, I'm kneading and thinking and chatting with my children, two of whom are kneading alongside me, and I realize that bread and kids are not that different.

You feed them, love them, help shape them and then you wait and see what happens. I know I don't want bread machine kids. I don't care for them to be perfectly sized, shaped, and predictable. I don't desire that they fit the mold ---mine or anyone elses, but God's. I am looking forward to seeing the finished product, though these days that seems to be approaching far too quickly. I am embracing their uniqueness, their sense of humor and their originality. I am thankful for the authentic people that I'm beginning to see take shape.


Most of all, I'm humbled. Humbled that God would see fit to take a little cast of dough and allow it to bring forth four amazing children. If I am careful, I'll be baking bread with this starter for years to come. If I am purposed, I can say the same of the generations to come in my family. I want to be the kind of leavening in my home that grows my family into the fullness of their potential. My prayer is that their lives will be a beautiful reflection of the Bread of Life.

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Out of Balance




I just walked in to panic in the living room....my offspring were fairly certain that a helicopter crashed in the backyard or we were under alien attack and were close to foaming at the mouth. The sounds emanating from the mudroom were loud enough to make one think that might be the case, but it was merely my washing machine. Turns out that someone loaded all of the towels from the pool into one very large load that had gotten out of balance and the machine was protesting, loudly. Not only did it sound out of control, the machine walked halfway across the mudroom floor like some crazed movie where machines come to life.

I redistributed the towels, moved the washer back into place and life went on.

I've been reading Romans this week and the passage on liberty in chapter 14 makes me realize that as believers we get out of balance, too. Our dogma, criticism and self-righteous assertion that our way is the right way must sound like so much noise in God's ears. Our fussing and bickering over things that are non-essential makes us wobble right out of the position we're meant to be, strains our connection to the source of our power.

I love how Paul says it and Eugene Peterson phrases it in verse 6-10 of the chapter and following:


What's important in all this is that if you keep a holy day, keep it for God's sake; if you eat meat, eat it to the glory of God and thank God for prime rib; if you're a vegetarian, eat vegetables to the glory of God and thank God for broccoli. None of us are permitted to insist on our own way in these matters> It's God we are anwerable to-- all the way from life to death and everthing in between--not each other. That's why Jesus lived and died and then lived again: so that He could be our Master across the entire range of life and death, and free us from the petty tyrannies of each other.


I don't know about you, but I really don't want my legacy to be that of a petty tyrant. I don't want to condescend or be treated condescendingly....it makes me a little crazy. I want to live a balanced life that is optimally functional, humming along as it should be, plugged in firmly to the source of my strength and Power, living and eating and breathing and drinking and working and singing and dancing and cleaning and laughing and writing and loving and raising children to the glory of God!

And if that isn't encouraging or exciting enough for you, Paul ( again through the Message) leaves us with a reprimand that steps on my toes and makes me belly-laugh at the same time....he sounds just like my grandma....and she was usually right on it.

Romans 14:12 So tend to your own knitting. You've got your hands full just taking care of your own life before God.

Isn't that the best? I'm pretty sure if I'm gonna stay balanced in the life I have to lead, tending my own knitting is the only way to roll.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Our Town




Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping....into the future....



I've been working on producing Thornton Wilder's Our Town for our homeschool co-op next spring. The last time I read this play I was sixteen, just like Emily, and I truly didn't get it. Yeah, I analyzed it for honors English, I wrote about the underlying themes and I contributed meaningfully to the discussion in Mrs. Mabe's hot, modular classroom. I got an A in the class and kind remarks on how insightful all of my written responses were. But I definitely didn't get it.

Fast forward a lifetime of days and I'm beginning to understand what Wilder wanted to communicate in a whole new way.

Every single day matters. Every non-event is real life, happening all around me and never slowing down....triplet babies grow into twelve year olds with crazy senses of humor and their own ideas......first born sons get driver's licenses....smart-mouthed teenagers turn into 40 year old women.....the guy you married for his blue eyes, biceps and sense of humor has become the one person on the planet who knows everything about you and loves you anyway.....life happens.

We found out today that a friend's wife's breast cancer has metastasized to her brain and bones. Yesterday her kids were headed back to college, today they're afraid to walk out the front door without her.

Wilder says " a lot can happen in a thousand days".....the truth is, a lot has happened in 12,000 days or so that I haven't witnessed. I've been present for it, because it's my life, I just haven't noticed it....experienced it....appreciated it.

When Emily goes back to Grover's Corner for her twelfth birthday, she understands something that I want to get a firm grasp on now....today....before one more sunrise.

She says, near the end of act three " I can't. I can't go on. It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. I didn't realize. So all of that was going on and we never noticed. But first, Wait!! One more look. Good-bye, good-bye world. Goodbye Grover's Corners, Mama and Papa. Goodbye clocks ticking and Mama's sunflowers...and food and coffee. And new ironed dresses and hot baths and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth you are too wonderful for anyone to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?


I'm thankful that the real life is eternal...that there is a forever with Christ after this dress rehearsal....but I don't ever want to miss out on how great the dress rehearsal is. If God created this life as a taste of things to come, we've got no idea what we're in for....I want to realize how wonderful earth is this side of heaven; I WANT TO REALIZE LIFE WHILE I LIVE IT!!!!

Psalm 39 is a pretty good reminder. It's more eloquent in the NIV, but the Message version really hits me where I am. verses 4-13 say it like this
Tell me what's going on, God?
How long do I have to live? Give me the bad news!
You've kept me going on pretty short rations; my life is a string too short to be saved. Oh! We're all puffs of air, Oh! We're all shadows in a campfire. Oh! We're all just spit in the wind. We make our pile, then we leave it.

What am I doing in the meantime, Lord? Hoping! That's what I'm doing. Hoping. You'll save me from a rebel life, save me from the contempt of dunces. I'll say no more. I'll shut my mouth, since you, Lord, are behind all this. But I can't take it much longer. When you put us through the fire to purge us from our sin, our dearest idols go up in smoke. Are we also nothing but smoke?

Ah, god, listen to my prayer, my cry--open your ears. Don't be callous; just look at these tears of mine. I'm a stranger here. I don't know my way-- a migrant like my whole family. Give me a break, cut me some slack before it's too late and I'm out of here!"



Yeah. In the meantime I'm hoping! Even though I'm just a shadow, a stranger, a migrant....spit in a campfire....I want to make it count! I want to realize life while I'm living it.

Let it go,
Let it roll right off your shoulder
Don't you know
The hardest part is over
Let it in,
Let your clarity define you
In the end
We will only just remember how it feels

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain

Let it slide,
Let your troubles fall behind you
Let it shine
Until you feel it all around you
And i don't mind
If it's me you need to turn to
We'll get by,
It's the heart that really matters in the end

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain

These Small Hours by Rob Thomas

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Today's Top Ten




For no particular reason and in no particular order, here is a list of ten of my favorite things at this very second.

1. Grace....really, how could we ask for more?

2. Contented children

3. Friends with front porches, a sense of humor and the ability to be real, gotta love that!

4. Turning 40! Don't be afraid!

5. My screaming new laptop ( see # 4, big birthdays have advantages)

6. Blackberries. I just picked some this morning and put them in pancakes. They are perhaps the best part of creation.

7. edamame, soba noodles, tofu and ginger. all together. trust me.

8. bare feet

9. Tomatoes ripening in my garden

10. The public library. I mean really, they let me take all of those books home for free and then next week they let me do it all over again! They must really love me!

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Good Earth






We tilled the garden last night.

Funny, how things like gardening show me more about my own heart than prayer and meditation sometimes do.

This particular garden is a dream. It's nothing but rich brown silt, deposited along the Ohio River many moons ago. Over the past two centuries my garden plot, along with thousands of acres surrounding my land, was home to a very productive vineyard. A variety of obscure grapes were grown here by a Danish immigrant and his family --strangers in a strange land, who came to this country and tamed some wild grapes, built a vineyard, established a school and put their lives on the line to free some slaves.

The winery, school and vineyard are long gone and the acreage surrounding us has been subdivided until the original farm is only a memory recorded in an old journal. In spite of the changes that have taken place, though, there are reminders of the original investment in this land. We still have an arbor that is weighed down by centuries old vines, and most of our neighbors have random grape vines in their yards as well. The foundation stones that were once supporting the one room school are evident just up the road, and the winery itself sits in disrepair in my backyard, each huge, hand-hewn stone a monument testifying to the fact that someone has gone before--worked the land, tamed what was wild and made a life and we are not the originals.

The home I lived in prior to this one was brand new. It was the first of several in a brand new subdivision, replete with homeowners' associations, covenants, restrictions and a complete lack of community within the planned community. My garden there was a nightmare. Pure red mud, packed so tightly that I couldn't till the ground on my own, and even after several years of feeding that soil, mulching in compost and humus and lots of sweat equity, I could barely grow an onion. The fruits of my labors in that garden were as withered and tired as my lack of relationships in that uncommunity.

As I was tilling my dream dirt last night, I thought long and hard about my life and the crossroads at which I find myself where true community, worship and fellowship are concerned. I was contemplating the things that God is stirring in my heart and mind, even though they seem to be radical, different, defying the norm that I see all around me. It was as if there was a shadow of what had gone before hidden somewhere in the "new things" that God is doing in my life---a true sense that these ideas are not original. I continued thinking about my own heart as I cut through the soil and removed weeds, loosening ground so that the seeds that I plant can be deeply rooted and well watered. I want the soil of my heart to be like this garden--rich, loose, open to good seed, quick to dislodge weeds, bearing fruit that is pure and sweet and abundant enough to share.

My heart has had seasons where it was more like the red mud garden in the planned community--dry, hard, unyielding, surrounded by "forced community" that was as dry and lifeless as that same mud.

I don't want to go back.

I don't want to forget that there are seeds of the Father hibernating there, shadows of what He hopes for me waiting to grow wild, like those grapes that crop up all around our neighborhood. I want to allow Him to till and weed and tend my heart so that it yields good fruit, even when it feels countercultural. I want to be free of the false restrictions I've allowed to become law to me through religion---like so many subdivision covenants and homeowners' associations--and live in the freedom of grace and truth.

I want to follow the ancient path.

Stand in the ways and see, and ask for the old paths, where the good way is, and walk in it.
Then you will find rest for your souls. Jeremiah 6:16

Sow righteousness, reap love
It's time to till the ready earth, it's time to dig in with God! Hosea 10:13 MSG



Tuesday, April 29, 2008

A Day in the Life

We decided to take some random pics today.....the neighbors aren't so sure about us.....but a fun day was had by all, so it's all good!