homeschooling, take two.

I realized recently that if there’s one desire that’s been broken in me over the past several months, it’s the desire to wait until everything’s picture-perfect in order to live my life.

We moved into our house almost two weeks ago, and were just told that our container of furniture and curtains and bedding won’t arrive until the end of November.  There was a time in my life when this news would have crushed me.  I would have felt on edge with large barren walls and plastic bins for end tables and rug-less floors.  I would’ve been ashamed to host my in-laws for Thanksgiving with no guest room for them.

I would’ve shied away from inviting people over because our place isn’t cute and put-together.  I’d have waited to start homeschooling until I had a proper homeschooling space.  I would have compulsively moved from room to room, sweeping and scrubbing and keeping everything in order for guests.

But these days I’m sort of a mess.  We had to move back to America because of my health, and we still have no idea what we’re doing next.  I take a handful of medication just to sleep at night and then to wake up and face each day.  I need a community of people around me to constantly help me look to Jesus and remember what’s true instead of believing the lies.  I have great days and I have really hard days.

Talk about humbling.

In all of this, I’ve had to say good-bye to “Put-together-Julie,” probably for life.

And you know what the really surprising thing is?

I’m much happier for it.

I’m happy to be celebrating the little victories, like “I got out of bed this morning!” “We have a house all our own!” “I just ran a 5K when I was certain I’d never be able to do it!” “I didn’t yell at Judah for taking too long to put his shoes on!” (I wish that was a victory I could celebrate more).

I’m realizing, in shock, that I’m actually starting to like “Hot-mess-Julie” better.  I’m relieved with “Hot-mess- Julie.”  And even more astonishingly, my husband seems to be thrilled with “Hot-mess-Julie” (Wow. I wasted a lot of years trying to be someone I thought he needed.).

I’m actually grateful for this knowledge that I can’t do everything.  I can’t cook healthful food for my family and homeschool and make community a priority and make time for myself and my marriage and get to know my kids and exercise to help control my anxiety and keep a clean house.  Every single day I’m failing at something, usually several somethings.

I’ll always be a creature of order and organization, it’s the way God made me.  But lately I’m embracing my weaknesses–I mean they’re glaring me in the face every day, so it’s either embrace them or be miserably unhappy, right?  I’m letting go of that drivenness toward perfection.  With all that’s going on in my life I just don’t have the energy for it anymore.

Now I’m enjoying our little house, work-in-progress though it is.  I’m inviting friends over for dinner even though our oven doesn’t work and we have to eat soup and buy dessert from Publix–because I’d rather just be with them then to have everything perfect for them.  I’m giving folks a house tour with dirty floors and mounds of unfolded laundry on the bed and a guest room full of half-opened storage bins.  I’m clearing off the breakfast dishes and homeschooling at the desk-turned-dining-room-table with our books and art supplies in stacks on the dining room floor.

I’m trying to apply this principle of embracing my inadequacy to homeschooling, although for some reason the idea of homeschooling raises all kinds of fears and doubts this time around . . . I’m a mess myself; who am I to be discipling and teaching these two precious souls?  What if I hurt them with my moodiness and impatience and sharp tongue?  What if this isn’t what’s best for them, what if I’m doing it out of selfishness?  Who am I to think I can provide what my kids need for their education?

I don’t have answers to these questions.  All I know right now is to move forward each day in trust.  To ask God to help all of us, as we learn together (because I need all of this training just as much as my kids do).  To repent to my children when I’m harsh.  To focus on seeing them rather than fixating on trying to do everything right.  To ask God to show me how to teach my kids that learning and growing happens right here, right now, in fits and starts, in the mess.

To ask Him to give all of us lots of joy and laughter in the process.

(photo by Amie)