It was a harder week. We survived, but at moments it was questionable.
It astonishes me some nights as I fall into bed at just what I accomplish in one day with the LORD’S help. I had no idea at 20 what my life would like at 40. I like the components… I just could never have imagined them.
My alarm goes off at five, and Bible time and morning prep. eat up the first 90-plus minutes. Then the kids start to rise and the activity bursts forth. Bickering has been a real problem lately, and it has even escalated into some fisticuffs which I would never have dreamt would take place under my roof. Refining, refining, refining. I bet the Duggars have never dealt with this. ;) School goes steadily from 8 AM – 2:30 or 3:00. Chores either fit in the cracks, or get done at this time. There are plenty. Of course messes get made along the way and they take time to clean up, too. Between 3 and 5:30 PM I try to get either a chunk of housework or an errand accomplished, depending on how much time our dinner prep. will take. Many afternoons I will use this chunk of time to cook a meal for someone, or perhaps bake for a funeral or party. Thankfully, 5 of 7 nights or so John tackles dinner clean up and I retreat to some quiet corner to email a friend or send messages via the iPod, or perhaps I jump in the car to do some shopping or run an errand that takes a while. This all depends on what might absolutely NEED to be done vs. how exhausted I am. Prayers and bedtime usually are completed by 8:30 P.M. and once again my head hits the pillow and I reflect on the day in the waning moments of consciousness, praying that He will undo any mistakes I have done in shaping their character. Praying that they will grow and prosper in spite of me.
Not really the “American Dream” so many of us are convinced to pursue in our college years. No time for Netflix or classes at the gym. In some ways the work from dawn to dusk reminds me a bit more of the pioneers than prime time T.V. Finding the predicate nominatives as the subjective complement is not the same as grinding corn for two hours to yield one cup of meal, of course. But I bet the exhaustion I feel at the end of the day would be better understood by my pioneer counterparts than by the Snooki or Condoleeza. It’s a world they don’t discuss in college. Mothering. Homeschooling. Putting kids first all day every day. It lacks prestige. The pay is paltry. It is exhausting.
Of course, those who do not understand would say that what I do and live is a choice. I contend strongly that homeschooling is NOT a choice for us. The only choice is: Will we obey what God has called us to do? He has laid it heavily upon our hearts to raise up our children and accept responsibility for them 24 hours a day, delegating out only what we are not capable of doing, like piano and swim lessons. All other training will come from us. It provides for very little in the way of breaks, and in a world which screams, “You deserve it!” it can be difficult to resist the temptation to feel sorry for myself some days.
I love my world. But it is not for the faint of heart.
I must say that I rarely, if ever, look at my kids and wonder, “Where has the time gone?” Nor do I wistfully think, “Please slow down your growing!” I don’t believe for a second that is because I can’t wait to whoosh them out of the house (that is another whole line of thought I hear out there, as well, but will not address today!) I think I am not surprised by their growing up because I haven’t spent any real time away from them. I have enjoyed (or not-so-much enjoyed) them every single day ALL DAY. Very few new things or experiences have occurred in their lives that I haven’t been a part of. When the lights go on in their heads I have had a front row seat! We can finish each others sentences and very, very rarely do they describe a situation that I can not see in my mind’s eye before they have finished talking. I am genuinely savoring their lives.
But, I am tired. Bone tired.
And God-willing, I will still be doing this in 2030 when I am 58 years old. Seriously.
