Since the COVID-19 pandemic, more moms (than ever before) are wondering what their options are for next school year. Because of the possibility of children being required to wear masks, and other “restrictions” and guidelines, some parents feel the school “system” will become an even more “systemic,” and sterile environment. (Not the vibrant, hands-on enivronment we are used to in the younger years.) Some parents are wondering, deep down, “Would it be better (would my child thrive more) at home, than at school?” Here are 5 unexpected joys I discovered through homeschooling.
I didn’t know that we’d be inside for days on end while it rained, and snowed, and it felt like Spring itself would only tease us, but never actually come.
And the days would all bleed into eachother, and so would we.
I didn’t know just how desperately I would need this one thing:
It’s a Hallmark-y sounding kind of word. At least, it was. To me.
But now hope is something else.
Something more. Something alive.
Something like these tucked-in tulips. Withdrawn and inward. But quietly getting ready to bloom.
Separate, yet together.
Are you thirsty?
Are you restless?
Especially in the season of infertility. I was trying my HARDEST to read scripture, and to hope in the Lord…
but my soul was all over the place. And pretty soon, I found myself in a dry, barren season of the soul.
And no one could save me from it.
You see, something about Jesus, is that He is not afraid to enter wildernesses. He is not afraid of the dry, barren places within us. He’s not afraid of our hard questions, or tears.
I need to weep, and I need to pray.
And I need to feel. And I need to cry.
And I know that seems so “unproductive.”
Like a waste.
I’ve felt guilty about it. Like I should be “doing” more.
But what if feeling, and grieving, and praying…actually is “productive.”
What if it’s a part of the process?
You were born for such a time as this.
Yes. For this pandemic. This COVID-19.
And you have been training your whole life for this. Your whole life.
This time, when the world pauses together, and weeps together.
And no one knows what’s going to happen next, or how bad it’s going to get.
This grief. This fear.
This standing still.
The gasping, the panting, the reaching out…
of a dying world.