Juleeta

 

Last night, as I considered charging through this morning’s list of groceries, piles of weekend laundry, and lingering homeschool lessons, I ventured to think through how to inspire drive, tenacity, maybe even excellence in my kids…at some point in the day.  Recently coming off of the Olympics, inspiring my children has seemed a worthy endeavor.

These last few weeks, our family has crouched closely together around the television, holding our breaths as athletes defied gravity and exhaustion to perform. We have joined together to cheer them to victory. Raucous roars and tightly fisted hoorays have filled our at-home arena. In awe of Michael Phelps’ speedy and streamlined swimming and Simone Biles’ wondrous gymnastic feats, naturally our family has engaged in a few conversations about hard work, giftedness, and the pursuit of a dream.

But as I looked on various closing ceremony images this morning, eager to see Simone Biles bearing the  American flag, I came across this picture, and it stunned me.  This was not the Rio I have imagined these last few weeks. You guys, take a look at this and come right back.

http://www.si.com/olympics/photo/2016/08/22/best-photos-closing-ceremony-2016-rio-summer-olympic-games

In the most honest way, this snapshot put me in my place. It forced me to remember the reality that is clawing its way down the streets of Brazil. And the reality my heart desperately needs to face when I’m wondering about the best ways to inspire my kids to “fulfill their potential.”

I stare at this skinny, shoeless boy as he gazes at the firecracker glory that permeates the skyline from Mangueira favela, one of many crime-ridden, drug infested, impoverished shantytowns built into the hillsides of Rio de Janiero, and I wonder.  What is he thinking? Will he ever get out?  Does he even have a chance?

Absorbed by the moment captured here, first, I find myself relieved.  We have it so good. Nervous next. But it may not be like that forever. Then just plain outright hit upside the head by my selfish anxiety. Why do I spend more time worrying about how I’m not doing enough to inspire and lead my kids instead of praying that God will allow me to inspire and lead my kids?

The only way I’m going to inspire my children to great work is to take time to pray about how I can be a part of the great work myself. 

And for now, only pray. Not do the great work. Not yet. Pray and seek His face as I read Scripture. Wait and see where He leads.  Because the power of the Holy Spirit will lead, and there is nothing more inspiring, for anyone, than the Holy Spirit’s guidance.

Yesterday, my oldest four returned to school.  We all awoke eager, greeted by early morning darkness. Clearly, my people sensed we might need extra time to prepare.

The boys looked grown up in their freshly pressed uniforms, and they shoveled in breakfast at a breakneck speed.  As they strolled out the door with their backpacks to load them in the truck, I secretly prided myself on how organized I was this year.  After all, my early preparation had seemingly set us up for a smooth morning.

But, when we arrived at school, it all went down.  Forgotten math summer workbooks and  incorrectly assigned summer reading books (I just happen to have let my oldest read the optional list instead of the required list) were the first of the mom-initiated organizational faux pas.

After school, when my children piled into the truck, each one was quick to communicate about their day, and apparently everyone was missing at least one very important item from their supply list.  Maybe more than one….

In my self-talk on the way home, I told myself: I’m giving myself grace to make mistakes in this journey, this model.  But returning to something I think I already know requires a lot of humility.  I’ve homeschooled all of these grades at least once, some more.  This whole system should be my jam.

So, in the grace I’m attempting to bathe in, I’m praying for accuracy.  I desperately want to hit the mark as we return to this model, which promises to aid me in educating the hearts and minds of my kids.  But I think the greatest challenge for me this year is this.

In my believing I should know how to do this, I must believe that being on my knees and crying out to Him in the only way I can really love teaching my kids at home.

Starting now.

I started this morning in the Word, with a steaming cup of rich coffee in my favorite robin’s-egg-blue mug. As I sipped in the warmth and the quiet, I read Psalm 27. Here, David encapsulates the place The Lord has called him to dwell within — tension.

27:1 The Lord is my light and my salvation;

whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold1 of my life;

of whom shall I be afraid?

2  When evildoers assail me

to eat up my flesh,

my adversaries and foes,

it is they who stumble and fall.

3  Though an army encamp against me,

my heart shall not fear;

though war arise against me,

yet I will be confident.

4  One thing have I asked of the Lord,

that will I seek after:

that I may dwell in the house of the Lord

all the days of my life,

to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord

and to inquire in his temple.

5  For he will hide me in his shelter

in the day of trouble;

he will conceal me under the cover of his tent;

he will lift me high upon a rock.

---

I scheduled a babysitter today so that I could get away to write. I felt the tension as I prepared to exit for a few hours — giving instructions and keeping expectations low, leaving lovingly instead of sprinting out the back door.

After packing the car, I only had to get one to football and I was on my way. The seamless drop-off to practice ended up happening an hour late because this momma was the only momma who had no clue all the kids are supposed to be in full pads for the first practice. Instead of writing, I headed to Academy and, among learning other football know-how, mastered the skill of inflating a very expensive football helmet.

And now that I finally made it here to write, I breathe relief.  Sitting in the wicker chair, I can’t help but hear a nearby conversation, which is beautifully timed.  Two very early 20-something college girls are in dialogue about their futures.  They joke about graduating and what kinds of jobs they might have someday.

And the one sitting closest to me, her pretty blond hair tucked back in a loose-ish pony tail lowers her voice a bit and says, with a slight giggle in her voice, “Well, maybe you’ll get married and you won’t have to work and you can have babies and stay at home.”

Her friend, brunette and bubbly and perfect in her makeup and navy checkered polo, responds, “I  can only hope so.  That would be the life.”

Now you know who’s laughing inside.

Because, those sweet girls… they can’t know.

The lack of tension in their conversation revealed they couldn’t think multi-dimensional about their own future lives.  Ignorance allows us to make assumptions without thoroughly considering, without feeling the pull on two sides of a tug o war rope.  Ignorance allows relief from tension.

That conversation reminded me that this tension that God has me in is so right in the middle of His will.  When I ask him to make it easy, I need to be willing to ask him to make me ignorant.  When I ask him to get rid of a problem I can’t solve, I am asking him to make me self-reliant.  When I ask him why he has a perfectly intelligent, college graduated 38-year-old mother of five still asking boys to pick up the toilet seat and aim, please, aim, and not doing something more important, like working, I need to remember what my not working really means.

Not working means lots of different things to lots of different people. As I consider the added responsibility of starting school again with my kids in a mere ten days, I know this to be true.  It is a privilege to own my work and believe it is worth this time of my life, full of tightly pulled and grace-ridden tension.

 

Psalm 119:50 My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.

If I live like I believe this, I will choose to trust You instead of wallow in my selfish sadness.

If I live like I believe this, I will pray more and try to figure out less.

If I live like I believe this, I will commit real time to rejoicing that He has been good to grow me through pain in the past.

If I live like I believe this, I will remember His Word.

His promise is His Word.

 

1 Samuel 16: 1-13, The Message translation

God addressed Samuel: “So, how long are you going to mope over Saul? You know I’ve rejected him as king over Israel. Fill your flask with anointing oil and get going. I’m sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem. I’ve spotted the very king I want among his sons.”

“I can’t do that,” said Samuel. “Saul will hear about it and kill me.”

God said, “Take a heifer with you and announce, ‘I’ve come to lead you in worship of God, with this heifer as a sacrifice.’ Make sure Jesse gets invited. I’ll let you know what to do next. I’ll point out the one you are to anoint.”

Samuel did what God told him. When he arrived at Bethlehem, the town fathers greeted him, but apprehensively. “Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve come to sacrifice this heifer and lead you in the worship of God. Prepare yourselves, be consecrated, and join me in worship.” He made sure Jesse and his sons were also consecrated and called to worship.

When they arrived, Samuel took one look at Eliab and thought, “Here he is! God’s anointed!”

But God told Samuel, “Looks aren’t everything. Don’t be impressed with his looks and stature. I’ve already eliminated him. God judges persons differently than humans do. Men and women look at the face; God looks into the heart.”

Jesse then called up Abinadab and presented him to Samuel. Samuel said, “This man isn’t God’s choice either.”

Next Jesse presented Shammah. Samuel said, “No, this man isn’t either.”

Jesse presented his seven sons to Samuel. Samuel was blunt with Jesse, “God hasn’t chosen any of these.”

Then he asked Jesse, “Is this it? Are there no more sons?”

“Well, yes, there’s the runt. But he’s out tending the sheep.”

Samuel ordered Jesse, “Go get him. We’re not moving from this spot until he’s here.”

Jesse sent for him. He was brought in, the very picture of health—bright-eyed, good-looking.

God said, “Up on your feet! Anoint him! This is the one.”

Samuel took his flask of oil and anointed him, with his brothers standing around watching. The Spirit of God entered David like a rush of wind, God vitally empowering him for the rest of his life.

————————

Samuel knew his role. In this passage, he was to anoint a future Israelite king.

He was intimately acquainted with the Lord. He had spent the majority of his life listening to the Lord’s commands and delivering hard messages that few welcomed. But, even after a lifetime of prophesying God’s difficult to understand teachings to Israel, Samuel still initially sought logic as they way to discern the Father’s will.

Welcomed into Jesse’s home, Samuel began the process of king selection. Immediately upon meeting Jesse’s oldest son, he assumed (led astray by his own understanding) that Eliab would be the next Israelite king. And that is exactly what God had just told him not to do.

God advised him very clearly. Look, Samuel, don’t trust your eyes on this one. I’m looking for a certain kind of man. You are choose the one with a heart like none other. He will serve as my king.

Of course, we’re not privy to the entire discourse that ensued as Jesse brought the next six sons before Samuel, each of them rejected.

But we do know who God chose for Samuel to anoint – David, the youngest of eight sons, the runt, the one who wasn’t even home that day and who had to be chased down from the fields to meet the prophet.

God seemed to make an illogical choice for this next leader of nations until we remember how He reasons throughout the entire Bible.

Our Father does not reason like us. We are limited human beings, and we too often seek understanding of the wrong things.

As mothers, we strive to understand many things, especially our children. And that task is overwhelming. We long to make logical sense of why God made each child the way He did. Even more problematic, we sometimes spin our wheels trying to change our children into what we want them to be.

Homeschool moms often feel that burden amplified. After all, we spend a lot of time with our children, so shouldn’t we be that much more responsible for their personalities, their accomplishments, their characters?

Our household has just finished the hardest school year to date. We pursued the university model with four children. The Lord allowed me to feel consistently weak throughout the academic year. He permitted specific circumstances to cause pain, whipping me like a surge of stinging waves. I struggled to make sense of it, to find the logic behind school-initiated decisions that were meant to help me instruct my children well, but instead hurt.

I spent many prayer moments asking God, “Why are you allowing this _____?” I filled in the blank with many phrases. Consistently frustrated and eventually angry many days, I ended the days, emotionally exhausted and without answers to my questions. Finally, I asked the one question I should have been asking all along.

Who is this God who I attempt to understand?

Then the answers came flooding in.

He is a God who sees me. He sees you.

And He does not see things how we see them.

So although I am completely irritated at that and desperately want to understand my not understanding Him, I am disciplining myself to sit in it. I will have days when I yell and shake my fist at Him and pound my pillow like an angst-ridden, hormone-driven teenager who cannot control her mind. But I will also enjoy more tender days. And I will beg Him to do the one thing He already does and beg Him not to do the thing He promises not to do.

————

Father,

I beg you to understand me, and You do. Always. Forever. Intimately. Historically. Patiently.

I beg you not to give to me too much. And you never do. You withhold the knowledge of things I cannot understand so I do not have to bear them.

You save me in the very way I am asking.

I wish I could say thank you in every language because my thanks pours out of my heart in such a way that the two words don’t seem to be enough. I don’t want the repetition of the two words to lose their meaning by virtue of being repeated.

But you’re not looking for me to express myself creatively. Or intellectually. Or to have an uncanny wit or be paradoxical or anything that might be impressive to man.

Because you do not see things ever as we see them.

 

 

 

Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.

James 1:2-4, MSG

 

There have been many times this year that I have wanted to run hard away from this combination homeschool/at home way of doing education. I know I am not alone. I’ve compared notes with other mom friends doing this alongside me. Many days, it seems too hard.

Sometimes I think the homeschool days seem too difficult to endure because I compare them to the “at-school” days.  These are the two days my oldest 4 are in school and I look forward to getting stuff done.  These are the days I usually have time to look around and notice how the rest of the world is doing life. Allow me to recollect a real scenario on a lucky “at-school” day:

In between a day packed tight with errands, I slip in somewhere fantastic for a cup of coffee. Waiting in line, I venture to look out at the quaint tables amidst the snazzy jazzy music, and see a pair of women, probably my age. Almost always in yoga pants and yummy lip gloss. They are chatting, sitting comfortably, enjoying smooth caffeinated delight. They aren’t hurriedly running in and out. And why is that? Because their kids are probably in school 5 DAYS a week.

My jealousy brews over to the point that the whip cream I was looking forward to savoring just doesn’t taste quite as sweet because all I can think of his how I wish I could sit down and not run in and out between too many errands I chose to do today, the only day (let’s clarify…4 hours) I don’t have any children in tow. So, then, I wonder. Why? Why? Why? Concerning various topics, I question, “Why am I doing this?”

But, if I’m honest, the real question I’m usually asking is different. It’s this:

Why can’t my life be easier?

Father God in Heaven, who claims to love me more dearly than I can conceive, WHY ARE YOU ALLOWING ME TO DO HARD THINGS?

And therein lies the rub. I am asking God to make my life easy when His word, specifically the first chapter of James, tells me:

1. My sheer gift to you is My relentless love, that means something ONLY if you desperately need it.
2. Your faith life is this beautiful, colorful piece of artwork that takes time to create. It takes difficult patience to sit in the heat and pressure of the kiln, my dear.

So, I stay here. I stay teaching and loving and living like this for now because I’m not being called out of it. At least for now, I’m being called further inside. Deeper in is where I need to be, not fighting my way out prematurely.