Life Nurturing Education

My goal is to create one flower bed a year. Some goals fizzle. We bought this home four years ago, but only one garden graces our property. Life, literally, interrupted my plans the year I gave birth to a sweet little girl. Then, last spring, we bought a new septic system. Heavy equipment squishing around the yard wasn’t conducive to planting. This year is different. My waist bends, and the plumbing works. So I’m adding another garden. Most people start in the front, but not me.

Massive magnolia trees fill our front yard. A few bushes cling to life. Monkey grass spreads around the porch. And a shovel doesn’t go more than two inches into the ground without hitting roots. The roots that destroyed our plumbing. The roots that cracked the foundation. The roots that suck up all the water. Our front yard remains barren. Until we get dirt for raised landscaping, I’m working in the backyard. It’s easier to restrain the dog than break my back and shovel.

I forgot how messy gardening is. Dirt is in my hair, under my fingernails, and on my clothes. I forgot how hard gardening is. The sod is shoveled scoop by scoop. My children help, but they want to plant the seeds without the work. They want to enjoy the harvest without the wait.

When Angel wrote of her desire for a clean house, I encouraged her,

We are preparing the soil in our children’s hearts. Pushing a plow and pulling weeds tends to make a mess.

Seeds of truth cannot take root and grow, unless our children’s hearts are pliable and sustentative. Scattering seeds upon impenetrable ground has little effect. With diligence, the ground is cultivated. With patience, the seeds sprout. The work we do sometimes seems invisible, but roots stretch beneath the surface giving life. Let’s continue preparing for the harvest, even though it involves daily scrubbing.

Ashpenaz blazed through town snatching young men from their homes. The policeman searched for the handsome, strong, and intelligent. When he found such youth, he carted them off to the king’s palace.

The King’s Answer by Briton Riviere

One of my biggest fears is that my children will be taken away from me. It is completely irrational, but, nonetheless, it is a fear. Can this sneaking trepidation be overcome? It is so stealth an issue I haven’t given it much concentrated thought. The anxiety surfaces when a sheriff pulls up to our house, or the headlines falsely proclaim, “Homeschooling is unconstitutional.” Maybe standing face to face with this fear will put things into perspective.

What if homeschooling was illegal? Imaginary scenarios are difficult for me, especially this one. We have laws that protect the intrinsic rights of parents in the land of the free. My hope is they will not be encroached upon, but what if they are? Laws could have any number of restrictions, culminating in the removal of children from parents and placing them in government schools. Would that happen? It’s doubtful, but that did happen to a child named Daniel.

Daniel was one of the young men taken away from his home by Ashpenaz. The king wanted the brightest and best. King Nebuchadnezzar began their training by giving them a superior Babylonian education. Completely surrounded by the culture, Daniel still refused to worship Nebuchadnezzar. Gazing at the rich table set before him,

Daniel made up his mind that he would not defile himself…Daniel 1:8

Daniel resolved. He determined in his heart to remain a Jew. Daniel followed the king’s orders until they went against his conscious. Then he chose lions’ mouths to preserve his most precious possession; his faith in God.

A wise preacher told me,

You have to choose which hill you will die on.

I pass many hills not worth climbing. For the sake of my children, I will traverse any mountain. I’m just not sure public education resides on a mountain. Public schools do not force children to worship the state. If the law said my children had to attend public school, I would appeal repeatedly. I would try escaping. But in the end, we all have to trust in something greater than our ability. Even if our children receive an education founded on biblical principles, the choice to embrace it is up to them.

My daughter received a doll house for Christmas complete with family and furniture. I wish she received a time machine instead, so the hours this toy has scattered across the house could be retrieved. Grandpa hides in a vase. Grandma faints under the couch. Sister peeks from the bookshelf. Mommy and Daddy search for Baby in the laundry basket. And lamps roll around the bathroom.

I didn’t get into this pick-up game completely clueless. While inserting screws for hours, I glimpsed a hint of the minutes this house would consume. It was worth it though. The finished product was perfect, the highlight of all the toys.

Two months later, the abandoned house sits in a corner. The furniture constantly gathered to make “soup” or “presents.” Will this nemesis of housekeeping be missed? Can I sneak it out during the night?

Maybe it’s an issue of perspective. Webster’s 1828 Dictionary defines perspective as “a glass through which objects are viewed.” Sometimes, the glass needs a good cleaning.

Gazing through the mist of life, requires imagination and hope. I clearly see the tasks of the day, but there is an unseen picture, of utmost importance, easier to forget. Sally Clarkson, author of Educating the Wholehearted Child, encourages me to continue overcoming my myopia.

Often, I find that in the absence of a clear enough vision for their children and homes, mothers replace conviction and vision with lots of activities and distractions for their children. This hyper-activity and rushing around to an endless list of expensive lessons and experiences and the buying of the newest expensive curriculum and technological options make moms feel like they are accomplishing something. However, when the home-life of children is rich with excellent, classic literature, passionate Biblical devotions, rousing dinner-table discussions around sumptuous, tasty meals, lots of love and affection given and household chores attended to—a child will become committed to all that is good and excellent and develop a moral and compassionate soul for all the divinely important values.

Moving the classic toy on top of the dresser brings everything into focus. My girls are now eye-level with the miniature world. Complaints turn into delight as Polly Pocket visits Sister Laura. Grandmother uses the stove to cook soup, instead of the kitchen table and chairs being stirred in a pan. The family and furniture often stay home now. Peace to us all.

My weary mind reminds me of the cold days yet to come and distracts me from my list of chores. It is easier to do nothing than face the dishevelled garage, or the pile of mending. I feel like the goldfinches desperately eating to stay warm, but some grains I ponder do not satisfy. As birds flit about consuming seeds, I wonder what will warm my soul on this bleak day?

Through my freezing thoughts, a promise is remembered.

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.

Yes, I am weak. Why do I try so hard do deny it? I want to be capable and confident, polished and perfect, sensible and strong. Through my numbed stupor, I pray. Can melancholy be replaced with joy? I may never become the woman I long to be, but I cannot, will not, quit trying.

Then again, gently, I hear,

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.

Power in weakness. Perfect sufficiency. Strength in grace. It all seems so backwards, yet these seeds do nourish my famished soul. Christ is my sufficiency. His grace is enough. Weakness is my testimony to the glory of God. With the Apostle Paul, I proclaim,

I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 1 Corinthians 12:9

Little Homeschool on the Prairie reviewed the documentary Grown Without School. A quote captured my attention:

There is a myth that through homeschooling you can achieve…more than a normal life.

I want to raise the next George Washington, Albert Einstein, or, for a current example, Ravi Zacharias. In the dream, my children are famous, and make a positive impact as salt and light in the lives of multitudes. Maybe this will happen, but, most likely, they will live a normal life.

They will grow up to be employees, business owners, or parents. They will struggle when making life-altering decisions. Their clothes will get dirty, and they will experience pain. Hard work is before them.

How do I best prepare my little ones to value this earthly routine? A quiet life can ebb with joy. Proverbs 4:23 admonishes,

Keep your heart with all diligence,
For out of it spring the issues of life.

According to Webster’s 1828 Dictionary, the Latin root of the word diligence is “to love earnestly; to choose.” Love takes “constant effort,” “steady application,” and “exertion,” but without it life is meaningless. Heroes love whether or not acknowledged by the crowds. They walk amid the common things and extraordinary events knowing that even an ordinary life is worth sacrifice.

Salt is meant to be sprinkled, not poured. Light illuminates, but even the sun does not shine everywhere at once.

The poem Five Kernels of Corn chronicles the character and contentment of the Pilgrims through hardships. Their extended harvest celebration is memorable, but the winter before food was scarce. Bradford admonished his diminishing flock,

Give thanks, all ye people, the warm skies have come,

The hilltops are sunny, and green grows the holm,

And the trumpets of winds, and the white March is gone.

And ye still have left you Five Kernels of Corn.

Five Kernels of Corn!

Five Kernels of Corn!

Ye have for Thanksgiving Five Kernels of Corn!

To each one be given Five Kernels of Corn!

In want or in plenty the Pilgrims remembered to be appreciative. My son realized that as he wrote,

Be thankful for all!

Be thankful for all!

God will give us what we need

So be thankful for all.

Even though our remembrance feast has past, this concluded our Thanksgiving study perfectly. Gratefulness and contentment are inseparable; a lesson to practice every day.

If lessons are meant to be creative, mine fail. This year, lessons are pretty much straight from the book. Commendable plans smolder in my thoughts. Our idea books are perused often, but not by me. My son has taken to finding his own creativity. I applaud his efforts.

When I asked him to record the characters in Pilgrim’s Progress, he hunted for Alternatives to Worksheets. Not taking into account my paper-cutting, creative-sketching, engineer-type son, I traded it on Paperbackswap. (My friend Mandi is putting it to good use.) Similar books grace our shelves, so I did not think it would be missed. It was, but only momentarily. Once Bug explained his idea, I found another tab book as an example. He finished his lesson with flourish.

Enter guilt. Where is my creativity? I should be adding interesting projects to make school exciting. If I battle laziness, and quit being distracted, maybe my son will not draw incessantly at the bottom of every assignment. Then again, maybe that isn’t so bad. His mark of individuality is on each page, and every doodle tells a story. I need some of his inspiration. Thus the thoughts clash in my heart. I can choose guilt and despair, or forgiveness and hope.

In Pilgrim’s Progress Hopeful and Christian are captured by Giant Despair. Thrown into the dungeon and tormented the prisoners refuse to die, so the giant plans to kill them. Fearful captives intercede through the night. Then Christian delivers a passionate speech,

What a fool, am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle.

The key does indeed unlock the doors, and the companions escape, free to continue their path to beloved Celestial City. Like these two pilgrims, I cannot remain burdened by fear any longer. Wallowing in guilt cripples. There are keys for me to use. They are principles to challenge my negativity.

He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion. Philippians 1:6

I am unfinished. The grace of God is my hope as I forge ahead on this pilgrim journey.

A battered reed he will not break off, and a smoldering wick he will not put out, until he leads justice to victory. Mathew 12:20

I am not ashes yet. The breath of the Holy Spirit blows on my heart to ignite my soul.

Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning. Pslams 30:5

With the keys firmly in my grasp, I hear the chains clatter as they hit the floor. The gate swings open, and the paralyzed giant is no longer a threat. I am free!