I don’t care how old my kids get, I therefor and hitherto solemnly swear and publicly proclaim that from this point forward and forever more we will always read picture books aloud together.

Ok, maybe that is an ambitious vow, but I DO hope we always keep that deep-seeded love for the classic, snuggled-up, tuck-my-toes-under-the-blanket-next-to-yours kind of book reading. I’ve always had a tender spot for a good story, since it’s one of the most lasting and powerful ways we connect to each other as people, and it helps us to understand things and ideas far greater than us. Over the years, we’ve read our share of books together as a homeschool family, and there have been a few that have stuck with me as real treasures that we will occasionally wander back to and recommend quite often to folks we know (and even to some we don’t).

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.

When we started our homeschooling journey all those years ago, I was kind of winging it. And by “kind of winging it”, I mean I had no idea what I was doing.

As we fumbled and explored our way through the first couple of years learning each other and what worked (and even more things that didn’t work), I found myself really sifting what the most important things were. If I only have these handful of years with them, what am I hoping to accomplish? If we can’t do it all (which we we can’t), what things would move us towards our core values? After all, how we spend our minutes is how we live our lives, and if we’re not careful we’ll squirrel them all away on the things that never really mattered anyway.

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.

Watching for the roots and rocks alongside the mountain stream as we went up, we dipped in and out of conversation, taking our time and lots of breaks since the hike in was pretty steep and the air was thinner than we were used to. It was the first time in a long while that we had gotten to spend some one-on-one time together, without a tornado of children or a slew of family around. I love these rare gems with my Dad, because it’s here I get to see more of who he is, who he was, what he thinks about and dreams about. Sometimes as I learn more about him, it seems like he’s lived so many lives in different places and with different people. I’m lucky that I’ve gotten to be one of them.

P O S S I B I L I T Y . In our yoga practice the other night, that was our central theme, and it’s funny how just that single word can stir a sense of thrill, of anticipation. I’m learning about myself that I love to dream, to cast a vision and chase after it with people. I’m also learning to prioritize what I chase, even if it means letting some other possibilities go.

We were leaving the city one afternoon, stuck on the interstate on-ramp and slowly crawling forward. There was a woman holding a sign and asking for help on the side of the road, so I handed my five year old son a baggie of snacks and supplies to pass over to her through his window. She smiled at him, graciously accepted the gift, and simply said, “Blessings to you”. There was a whole cluster of people just beyond her that had set up camp under the bridge overpass seeking shelter for the night. It was already pretty chilly, and the sun hadn’t even gone down yet.