Becoming a homeschool mama was not something I was prepared for. I have had great highs and great lows alike. But the one thing I enjoy is that I get to be real with my children in their education.
My son is deep into the algebraic world and I am my happiest because of it. Algebra makes sense to me. There's an answer. It's always the same answer. I can work out the problems and come to a conclusion. It's the ultimate subject for those with anxiety. There is completion. It is beautiful. Even if you struggle with a problem, you can find help to work through it until the answer is completed. I literally spoke to my son today the following words: Algebra is the closest thing to Jesus we have on this side of heaven. It is the same yesterday, today, and forever! Okay, I might be getting dramatic, but it's fairly true. Solving for x is repetition. It's doing the same type of problem over and over again. Routine is a beautiful thing. Our world is so often topsy turvy. It is filled with the unknown and stress. For so many of us, it is a wonderful thing to have consistency. Maybe math isn't close to godliness, but you can follow the trail I left. I'm all for surprises and twist endings. But to live a life that is consistently inconsistent is frustrating. Doing something like continual algebra problems with my son gives me a sense of calm (until he acts like a dingleheiffer and I lose it). If only I could find more things like algebra and Jesus in my life.
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I first began running before I got married. I was trying to lose the weight I had put on from working non-stop, eating crap, and having no time to work out. I didn't get back into running until after my first child for the same reason - losing weight.
After a bit, I found myself enjoying the runs because I had time to myself. It became a time of reflection, prayer, and so much more. And when you have little people always calling out to you and relying on you for basic needs, a few minutes alone while running away (literally) from the house is quite cathartic. I find my times of solitude refreshing. I have, however, been struggling in the waves of solitude in the past few years. In high school, I remember feeling very alone. I felt isolated. Nobody understood. Nobody was going through what I was going through. Nobody could help - if they even wanted to. Depression has the ability to separate us from human contact in so many ways. We hear lies being told that we aren't good enough, nobody will ever love us, and there's no hope in trying. Lord help us if we do try and get rejected. The vile spew seeps into our hearts and minds with no restraint. I did have a person, my former youth leader, that found me in the crowd of people and saw me for who I was. It was during times with her that I realized I wasn't alone. I was very lonely. I could be in a crowd of hundreds of people and feel like I was floating on an island. And in my emo state of being I found that there was a difference between being alone and being lonely. The last few years, I have found myself more and more lonely. Part of it is because I am very much alone. I work with clients about 10 hours a week, more or less. On Saturdays, I have my booth at the Farmers' Market. Otherwise, I have little to no adult contact throughout the week. In the last year I have made great strides in getting together with a friend every other week to chat and walk and be an adult. But even that is little contact. Unfortunately, for my emotional stability, we have chosen a lifestyle that keeps me from interaction. We homeschool. We don't do co-ops. I work from home, one-on-one, for an hour at a time where I am focused on the needs of my client. I write (hello solo career!) And the times when my children get to be social? Those are the times I'm working of course. Why? Because when they're doing school, I have to be the teacher! Let's not forget I'm the primary caretaker of the home - driving, shopping, cooking, cleaning (which I was able to give over to my husband more) and endless loads of laundry. Although I didn't realize the price I would pay in isolation, I made these choices for the betterment of the family. And I stand by those choices. But what I wouldn't give for the chance to head out on a Tuesday at 11 and catch up with friends for lunch, or walk around Target with other moms. So why do I keep choosing to run alone in the mornings? I did try running with friends. It wasn't terrible. But I found that I truly do enjoy the CHOICE to be alone in the mornings. It is my decision to be alone. It is my will to think or zone out. I don't know how life will change over the course of the years. I don't know if I'll miss these moments. But truly, I miss being able to chat with friends in the middle of the day. Those that go to work and deal with stupid people, be thankful you have a coworker or two to let off some steam with. We're made for community. Enjoy it. Not all of us get to. I'd like to take a bit of today's post and discuss a fun little Bible story. If you turn to Acts, you'll learn of Paul (formerly Saul) and his missionary journeys. The other day I was reading of his first imprisonment. He was beaten and thrown in jail without fair trial. Nobody thought anything of it. Well, maybe God did.
In the middle of the night, the walls shook, the gates flew open, and the chains fell off of the men in prison. The guard awoke and realized he was in big trouble. He took his sword, ready to take his life rather than take the punishment, when Paul called out to let him know they hadn't left. Well, the guard was grateful. He cleaned up their wounds and gave them some food. He cared for them. That's when Paul shows the ace up his sleeve. He tells him that he's a Roman citizen and that nothing in how the situation was handled was legal. Basically, "I got your boss's number." Word reaches the officials that put Paul and Silas in jail that they wrongfully placed a Roman citizen in prison without a trial. So he does what most would do. He tells the guard, "Hey, they can go." The guard tells Paul and Silas, "Yo, you're free to go." Now most of us would say, "Praise the Lord. Let's get out of here. I'm so mad I could spit nails. I told you he was wrong." And we would walk away. Not what Paul does here. He says, "They wrongfully imprisoned us, they can let us out." Heck yeah! That was exactly the story I have needed these days. Throughout my life, I have been taught to take responsibility for other people. It's insane. Recently, I had decided that if I had not done anything wrong, I should not have a price to pay. It wasn't about being insensitive to people or their feelings, but to simply admit that they are not my feelings to own! I was beyond relieved. I felt the weight lifted. I don't have to take responsibility for other people's actions or emotions. That is not my job. If they want that handled, they have to own it themselves. And right as I was starting to think that maybe I was wrong, I read that story in Acts. I could hear God saying, "You can't own anyone else's thoughts, emotions, or actions. Just do what is right in my eyes." Ah! There it is! At the end of the day I don't answer to my neighbors, family, or any other acquaintance. I answer to Jesus. Did I do something that God wanted me to do? Was someone else bothered by it? Not my job. As long as what I do is right, I can't get worked up that someone doesn't like me or what I said or did. That's a heart issue between them and God. I will say, it sounds insensitive. But we have to let people own their own judgements. I hope you'll ponder over this as well. It happens to many of us in a variety of ways. Where are you trying to own other people's actions or emotions? How can we let go of them? If I have learned anything in my battle with invisible illnesses, it is this - Every day I have a choice.
I don't have a choice of whether or not I will be in pain, or so fatigued I cannot keep my eyes open. My nervous system does that on its own and I have to live with it. But how I handle it, is my choice. My response is my choice. My actions are my choice. Seems simple enough, but I often have to remind myself. Recently, I have taken on the same mindset with my house. I like my house. It isn't my dream house. We've done a lot to it in the eleven years we've been here. It's my home. But it's also my office. It's also my gym. It's also my classroom. It serves as a dance floor. It acts as a factory. It is constantly in use. But all of these things mean that I have WAY too much stuff in my house. It's just a lot. All the time. Most people are used to smaller homes. No extra rooms. Laundry abounds. Cleaning supplies are close at hand. Practice gear is out. Work and school items have no home but yours. I understand this, but it gets to feeling overwhelming. I want to scream. I want a bigger house. I want fewer things. I want my kids to grow out of toys. I want to finish curriculum and get it out of the house. I see piles of things that could equal more space and a couple of bucks. Then there are all the messes. Food messes in the kitchen. Dog hair. Dirt on the floor. Dusty TVs. Piles of things that were once organized with the greatest care are now jumbled piles of who-knows-what! And the worst part of it all is that I'm usually not the culprit. If I make toast, I clean up the crumbs. So where did they come from? I put away my laundry and others'. I picked up the piece of paper that is on the floor. Honestly, it gets frustrating. Then it gets overwhelming. That's when I stop. I get overwhelmed by the constant fight that I give up cleaning it up. Well, as you know, that makes it worse. So I am changing my attitude. I have a choice. I can keep up the fight or give up. I have begun a new project this week. Once a day, I choose a project to clean up. It might be an area of the living room. It might be part of the laundry room. It isn't the whole room. This isn't a full blown overhaul. But it's a piece. I have my chores that are done daily. Same schedule every week: laundry Mondays and Thursdays, bathrooms on Tuesdays, mopping the living space floors on Wednesday. But now I choose something random. Today I cleaned the top of the dryer. Sounds weird, I know. But we end up using it as a catch all for random things - mail I didn't put away, laundry detergent, a bottle of Lysol, some screws that came from something, and a decoration that fell from the storage above that I don't feel like getting the step ladder out for. Man, it piles up fast. Since I began this initiative, I have cleaned a shelf in the laundry room, the dryer, the wall in the bathroom that for some reason is always dirty, and a corner in our dining room that just breeds stress. It isn't much, but it helps. If this is my home/office/classroom, then it is my responsibility to make it what I want and need it to be. It won't be perfect, but it's progress. Isn't that what our lives are all about? |
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May 2023
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