Even Homeschooled Kids are Sinners

We homeschool. I love it. I firmly believe in it as a good, viable, legal, moral, and Godly option for education. I will not argue that it's the ONLY good, viable, legal, moral, and Godly option, though. So you're in the wrong place if you want that.

Here's something you don't often see homeschoolers publically admitting, though. Homeschooled kids are still sinners. Keeping them away from the public school setting, with all its temptations and ungodly influences and worldly curriculum doesn't change that children still love the world and the things of the world. It doesn't change their rebellious hearts. Only God can do that, through His Holy Spirit. Let that sink in - Only God can do that, through His Holy Spirit. My kids, until the point of repentance and regeneration are unregenerate sinners bound for an eternity in hell. Homeschooling won't save them.

What I fear homeschooling may do, if I am not very careful, is create highly moral sinners. Ones with a false sense of eternal security. That's a fearful thing to have. It's what all those cults promise.

Homeschooling can be a bed of self-righteous Pharisee-ism if I am not careful. It can, in fact, hinder them from coming to a true saving relationship with Christ. Honestly, it would be better for me to put them in the public schools than to get in the way of their true eternal salvation.

As with anything, much prayer is needed to avoid the pitfalls of legalism.

These are a Few of my Favorite Things

I love homeschooling. I cannot imagine education any other way, really. Even though my siblings and I went to public school, in many ways we were homeschooled. My parents, especially my mother, had a heart for teaching her children.

Here's a list of a few of my favorite things about homeschooling:

1. The relationships. My kids' primary relationships are in our family. Their sibling relationships are strong. As are our relationships as parents with them. There aren't other adults intentionally getting in the way, trying to make us look foolish and destroy that relationship.

2. Watching them learn. I love it when one of the girls comes up against a really tough concept in math, or science, or music and works hard and then finally the lightbulb comes on. They get so excited, and get excited for each other. I love it.

3. Unbound curiosity. Unbound, in that it is not squashed by a curriculum that "must" be gotten through. If my oldest wants to camp out on abnormal physiology for six months, while my youngest studies the gross anatomy of a cat, they can. No one is telling them that they "must move on, because curriculum."

4. Limitless curiosity. This is different. Their curiosity has no end. I truly believe that this is how childhood in general should be spent - asking questions, and seeking answers. By experimentation, by research, by finding a person who can explain. Finding the answers to those questions, then asking new questions brought about because of those answers. This is education. This is learning.

5. Deeper talks. The girls and I talk about a great many things. We discuss socialism and why it has always failed, the gift of pain, government, self-government, right and wrong, and many other topics. Sometimes deeply, sometimes on a surface level. But their questions are big and deep. And they THINK. Kids like to think, when we don't tell them what all the "right" answers are.

6. Time together. Honestly, you cannot get quality time without quantity time. You cannot trust someone you do not know. You cannot know someone without spending time together. Limited "quality time" is a myth. It just does not exist.

7. I know what is going into them. I know what they are learning. I know because I chose the curriculum. I know because I am their primary teacher. I can tailor what they are learning to their individual maturity level and our family's worldview because that's what is best for them.

8. Routine. They are part of my routine. School breaks are nothing to dread for me, because the girls are already a vital part of my everyday routines. They are not a nuisance, but a help.

9. Slower pace. We intentionally keep a slower pace. I believe that unstructured time is best for children. It allows them to play, to run, to explore. If all their time is spent running from one place to another, going from sitting in a desk to sitting in a car to sitting at the table to do homework, they are hindered in their development. And we do not yet know how that hindrance will impact them in adulthood.

10. Flexibility. We can schedule trips around life. School doesn't become an albatross preventing us from doing things with others that we'd really love to do.

The Homeschooling Introvert

When the girls were all small, I would read things, or hear other moms talk, about their longing for adult conversation.  All I longed for was NO conversation.  I didn't need to spend time talking to others.  I needed -- I craved -- quiet.  All that noise, all those needs, all those things that come with having small children at home.  It wore me out.

And then we decided to homeschool.  I'll admit -- I was the one who brought it up.  I felt like it was probably the best thing for our family.  But it still didn't change my need for quiet.  It didn't still all the noise, the needs, the constant talking.

As we have continued on this journey, the girls have gotten older, more self-sufficient in their daily needs.  And the pressure is less.

I am still an introvert.  I still choose to homeschool.  Now I am finding the joy in that journey.

Homeschooling as an introverted mom is not always easy.  It is a lot of work, as is any worthwhile task.  But it is getting easier.  The conversations are less "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, I need ______________ (some physical need)" and more "Mama, I've been struggling with ________________ (some spiritual matter)."  There's less jump and run to prevent catastrophe, and more discussions of why something is/was a bad idea, and what consequences would follow.

I wish someone had told me that introverted parenting and homeschooling wouldn't always be the draining experience of the early days.  I wish someone would have told me that someday, I would genuinely enjoy my children.  That the things that truly drained me most would be outgrown.

Now, all three are at camp this week.  Sleeping away from home.  Fidget for the first time.  I am enjoying the quiet, the alone-ness that comes with having no one else at home during the day.  But it's not the desperate "where is all my alone time going?!" feeling that it would have been before.  I look forward to having them home, to picking them up and hearing all about their new friends, and the time in the pool, and the good food they ate, and all the silly songs they will be singing for months after this week ends.

In part, I am learning that it is OK to be an introvert, that it does not make me a bad parent.  That need for quiet is just a part of who I am created to be.  What would make me a bad parent is letting it rule everything, demanding always to get what makes me comfortable.  Learning to balance what I truly need with what the children truly need is a constant job.  One I hope to get right one day.

Doing it all

          "How do you do it all?!"

           I hear this question most of the time when I tell someone I homeschool.  Rarely do I hear the "socialization" question, and NEVER when my girls are with me.  If you know my girls, you know socializing isn't an issue.  And it only takes about ten seconds to realize this.

          So I get that question up top.  Normally, I smile, and say, "I don't know how moms get their kids out the door on time for school."  In other words, I deflect.

          The truth is, I don't do it all.  I don't even try to do it all.  And quite honestly, I think it's time to stop asking each other that question.

          The implication is that, somehow, I am SUPPOSED to do it all.  But I'm not.  I can't.  I am one woman with three children who are where I am all day, every day.  Most days, that's home.  But they go with me to the store, the library, even some doctor visits.  To have blood drawn, even (and recently).

          The truth is, my house is most often a mess.  The "guest room" is unrecognizable at the moment, mostly because it has become storage.  My sewing room is a disaster, with boxes all over the floor, and projects covering the table.  I would give my left arm for someone to come in once a week, or even once every-other-week to clean for me.  I'm not a great housekeeper even when school is on break.

          I don't grow my own wheat, or my own cattle.  I am hopeless with plants.  My oldest now has a greenhouse.  I'm hoping as long as I stay clear, the plants will have a chance to survive.

          If I make my own bread, it is most likely done, at least partially, in a bread machine.  With store-bought, bleached flour.

          Snacks are fruit.  Whole.  Not arranged into pretty faces, or skeletons with cut up bell peppers.  And no dipping sauces, either.

          My clothes, and those of my husband and children, come from the store.  (With few exceptions.  I ADORE sewing, just don't have time for it.)

          I also don't work outside the home.  Getting my children out the door is a challenge, what with all the lost shoes and whatnot.

          Lunch is usually one of two options -- peanut butter sandwiches or vegetable soup.  Occasionally there's nachos, but not often.

          I do cook most evenings.  But there's always Costco pizza and Taco Bell on the Engineer's way home from work.  And I take advantage of that more often than I "should."

          I don't lapbook (I know, you've just revoked my homeschool mother card).  I don't scrapbook.  The pictures are almost exclusively on the computer still.

          I do, however, have three children with lively imaginations, who know how to talk to adults, how to be gentle with smaller children, and how to approach an unfamiliar dog.  The girls are inquisitive, boundlessly curious about everything in their world.  They know themselves and their strengths.  They are proud of their quirks, of who God has created them to be.

          I have a husband who is, without a doubt, doing the job he was created for.  And he's good at it.

          I know I am doing the right thing for my family and myself.  But I am not doing it all.  I can't.  I won't even try.  And I won't ask you "How do you do it all?"  Because chances are, you aren't.  You can't.  And you should probably stop trying to.

          Let's give each other some grace.  Grace to not look exactly like one another, grace to not be able to do it all.  Grace to not have it all together.  Grace to let our own personalities shine.

          Please, let's stop asking, "How do you do it all?"  It just isn't possible.  And the collective guilt is killing us.

Celebrating the Moment

Two days ago, Fidget read her first book.  Actually, she read her first WORD, and then went on to read the rest of the book.  And one more.

When she read that first word, the Cowgirl came running around the corner screaming, "Did she just READ?!  Did Fidget just READ?!"

"Yes, she did!"

Lots of girly screaming ensued as my middle daughter celebrated with my youngest.  We did finish the book, and then posted a picture on Facebook.  The Cowgirl and Fidget then proceeded to celebrate with high excitement, squealing and running around and dancing and so forth.  Then I loaded up the girls into the van and we got ice cream.

These moments are the ones every homeschooling mama lives for.  The celebratory ones, where everyone is present.  The high excitement and encouragement of sisters.  Those "ice cream" moments.