The bacon sizzled as the family slowly scampered around getting ready for church. It was a drizzly and grey Sunday morning, where we all slept in since we’d stayed up until midnight to light sparklers and watch the New Year roll in together. Breakfast was finally finished cooking, but apparently nobody around here likes bacon anymore (go figure) and they started complaining about how hungry they were and how there’s nothing to eat. A batch of pancakes got everyone back on track, and all was well in the world again. I had an old Spotify playlist playing on our kitchen speaker with a collection of different worship songs and hymns that we had built up and added to over the years. I was mid-conversation with my middle boy, and he stopped and smiled and pointed at the speaker. “Hey, that was one of our hymns from school - I remember this one.” He then immediately dropped back into whatever he was doing, and the morning moved on. But that moment stuck with me, and I think it’s those simple little things like that I am beginning to store up and treasure. That song we learned was from a LONG time ago, and I was glowing inside knowing that it still caught his ear.

Making friends is hard. Especially when you homeschool. We have been on the hunt for some 10-ish year old friends who could maybe come alongside of us in this wild ride of life and learning together, and while we’ve got some promising buds, we’ve also had a ton of strikeouts. It’s affected our girl the most, and while I know this is tough for her, I’m trusting that when the time is right the Lord will knit together just who she needs for a season such as this. Just like He is doing for me. 

The kids wanted to work on a drawing video yesterday, and I said they could… as long as they did it together. My bigger kids have seemingly opposite personalities at times, and nothing puts it on display quite like art class. Ollie is a “roll with it” kind of guy. If something goes awry in his creation, he just kinda shrugs and keeps it moving. Tacie, on the other hand, cannot bear the idea of imperfection, and we will hear lots of wailing and gnashing of teeth before finding her in the middle of a whole ream of crumpled-up printer paper. She doesn’t always give herself time to learn slowly, or time to fumble and experiment, before she demands mastery of herself.

I was stuck at home on a Saturday and feeling sidelined from all of the action because #toddlers, so naturally I was having a pity party, table of one, for no reason at all, and I began the endless cycle of insta-scrolling. After seeing beautiful homeschool posts of peaceful and kind-hearted children joyfully learning together at home, I started thinking about how much grumbling happened in our own little school room. How bad attitudes seemed more frequent than kind gestures. How I meet resistance at almost every juncture of our day, no matter what kind of fun or enchantment we’ve tried to weave into it. Then I started wondering - was it me? Was it something I was doing wrong? Are we not doing enough? Have we made the right choice? The insecurity and self-doubt was raging strong, and it was so unexpected and felt slimy.