It all began with the dreaded “H” word: Homeschool.
You see, I believe you must be called to homeschool. And I’ve never thought becoming my child’s primary education provider was my calling. I’m just not that noble. Or disciplined. Or patient. Oh, I have many friends who have paved the way before me. I just never thought I’d need to draw upon their expertise. Yet as I pondered the where’s and when’s of my child’s impending school debut, the thought of homeschooling quietly crept into the back of my mind.
And then the wrestling match began.
You know how it goes. Denial comes first. Surely God wouldn’t be calling me to homeschool. I must be making this all up. Neither my daughter nor I would ever survive it! But he whispered about how homeschooling would draw our relationship closer.
Then I moved to anger: I had plans! I have a publicity business. I was on the verge of starting a photography business. I needed the time my daughter would be in school – under someone else’s tutoring. He gently, but firmly, pointed out that those were my plans, not necessarily his.
As my eyes turned inward, gaining a glimpse of my selfishness, I began to bargain. But he denied even my best deals. He didn’t want to settle. He wanted all of me – my plans, my dreams, my self-reliance, my control.
The revelation of my self-centered life was depressing . . . and ugly. I realized every reason I had for not homeschooling was (for me, I am making no judgments on others!) based in selfishness. As I began to sift through my reasons, I could see more clearly why homeschooling – at least part time – might be the best fit for our family. In fact, I began to feel a twinge of excitment about the prospect.
Armed with a new plan, and a fresh start on living Christ-centered (rather than me-centered), I moved forward joyfully. And then my husband dropped a bomb on me . . .
To be continued.