On Homeschooling and Dying to Self

Optimism is my thing. I’m usually really good at taking less than ideal circumstances and making the most of it.

"Coronavirus has caused the world is shut down? No problem! I’m gonna create a different experience every week and “travel” the world with my kids. Look, I can even use these soda bottles to create an English pub!"

"Oh no! My daughter is sick on pumpkin patch field trip day? Don’t you worry sweetheart, I’ll bring the patch to us! BRB, I’m gonna go buy all the pumpkins from Publix and set up a barn tent in our dining room."

"What? My husband has the stomach bug on my birthday? Not to fear… I’ll make my own cake and it will be a great memory with the kids! And look, we finished just in time for the bug to take me down as well. What a blessing!"

I love showing my children how to turn disappointment into something beautiful. I love training their eyes to look for how the Lord is turning all things for good. That He always has something better. I still believe this! And it has always worked really well for me. 

Until I started homeschooling.

Last year we enrolled our children in a different school that is 30 minutes away. Except the school only had a spot open for one of our children. Which meant I would need to homeschool our daughter until a spot became available for her. The whole decision was risky and made zero sense, but this was more than just an unction… it was more like a burning bush moment for our family, and we had to follow. 

“No problem, this is great! I’ll pour all of my creativity into homeschooling!” I thought. I had visions of a Little House on the Prairie unit study… we would knit by the fire, make jam, churn butter, and journal together about how much we love God and each other. I was born for this, and I was ready for the challenge. 

But instead of churning butter, it was actually my stomach that was churning on the first day of our homeschool adventure. This was me (Michael) on our first morning:

That first week, we got our nails done, we had picnic lessons outside, we painted on canvases while sipping tea, we had our coffee shop dates, and it was all so beautiful. But it was unsustainable and we definitely didn’t do any actual homeschooling, and I quickly found myself crying on the porch while my daughter watched another episode of Even Stevens inside. I was failing, and my creativity wasn’t coming to save me.

Then reality really started to sink in. What about my Target/Home Goods runs? No more day time Mahjong? Lunches with friends? Bible Studies? Who, pray tell, is going to run all of my important errands? And also… has my daughter always chewed this loudly?

No, the “sunny side” approach wasn’t working. The silver lining was not appearing. The only thing that did work? 

Dying. 

I quickly realized that the only way through was to give it all up and lay down my life.

Verses like, “Whoever loses their life for my sake will find it” and, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me” suddenly came to life like never before. That whole "living sacrifice" thing just got more real.

“Ohhhhhhhh!!!” I marveled, hitting the palm of my hand to my forehead in the universal sign for “I’m an idiot.” I forgot that life… isn’t… about me? Or my happiness? You mean I can be actually be free from the love of myself and the love of my own life?

There is a book by Paul Miller called “The J Curve.” It’s about the pattern that we all follow as disciples of Jesus: life, death, and resurrection. The normal Christian life repeatedly follows the pattern of dying and rising with Jesus. This happens many times over the course of our lives, and sometimes it happens many times in a day. Miller talks about “mini deaths,” which are the small trials we experience every day- opportunities to lay down our lives, but also rise to new life in Christ.

At the risk of sounding dramatic, homeschooling was a mini death for me. It was a letting go of how I thought my days should look. It was a call to slow down and submit to what the Lord had for me in this season.

Slowly but surely, I started to loosen my grip on what I thought our homeschool year should look like. It was less math, and more Rummikub. Less churning butter, and more “Real Cool History for Kids” podcasts in the car.  I discovered that our homeschool season would reflect Deuteronomy 6:8: a lot of teaching “along the way.”

Our homeschool year (or more accurately called a "gap year") was a gift. I received precious time with my daughter that I know we will both treasure for the rest of our lives. I realized that I really didn’t need that many solo Home Goods runs, and it was more fun to take her along with me. And in between tea times, car time, and more priceless conversations than I can count, I found that in the laying down of my life… I actually found it.