In Honor of St. Valentine
My contribution to the homeschool blog carnival, being held at About Homeschooling, on Valentine’s
It is Valentine’s Day. And in honor, I’d like to concentrate on the things I love about schooling our children at home. Believe you me, there are many, many gripes I can give. And maybe, do so too often. So today, it’s all about love.
I have approximately 18 years with each child, as a child, in our home. While we may not be able to get rid of them on each respective 18th birthday, he, she, and he will legally be an adult. And I love. Adore. The fact that we are spending each moment of those 18 years mostly together. Occasionally, too together, but together none the less. I love that when they are grown, and gone, I’ll never regret that I squandered time. Never wish I had done more. Not think about the firsts I missed, or conversations that should have happened. With all our faults, we are maximizing our time the best we can. I love that. And I love that we have a flexible schedule that allows our oldest to climb out of bed after midnight, when his daddy has just arrived home from a businesss trip. And because our children do not have to get out of bed early, to make it on time to school, they can stay out on the porch together, talking about the previous few days apart, and get reacquainted again. I love that our children have idle time. Time to have to think of something to do. Time to stretch and grow their imaginations. Time to conceive hundreds of art projects, refrigerator box houses, and more Lego creations than I could ever fathom. Time to learn how to be kind to eachother. And get along.
It is wonderful that we are not always in the car, going going going. We’re not racing to lessons after a packed day at school, fighting traffic at 5, racing through the drive-through for lack of time to cook. I love that the things they are interested in are scheduled in the mid morning, or in the middle of the day. And at supper time, we’re all home together. I love that they’re each able to learn how to be a good person, a loving person, a compassionate person, instead of having to learn how to take the next test. I love that their childhood is just that. A period of being able to be a child. The only time of it’s kind they’ll ever get. And that they can spend hours outside, instead of behind a desk. And that when they run to me, I’m available. I love that our 10 year old will still run to me, hug me, sit close to me on the sofa. He has no outside pressure to grow up and be cool. To pull away before he really wants, or before it is time.
I love that our daughter is free from the stress of fashion competition. Body competition. When can I wear make-up? All the other girls are. When can I pierce my ears? She got to…I love that she’s gentle, and can afford to be, as she is not forced to deal with the politics of groups of girls. She doesn’t whisper about other girls, or think she. just. has. to see Hillary Duff in concert. She knows it’s not time for boyfriends, and is not surrounded by those who feel it is. She’s growing up around boys who are being taught how to treat women, and with a father who models this daily. I love that she can be aware of how other children are growing up, but is not constantly faced with the differences that can make her feel out of place. That when she is a little girl, she can just be a little girl.
Our youngest is all over the place. I love that I can learn how best to deal with him, to channel his energy. To let him run wild when he needs to, and not worry about his disrupting a class. Or whether or not the teacher can handle him, and 25 others. He is very bright. I love knowing that he will not sit bored at a desk. That with him, and his siblings, I can figure out what they need and when. And that from this, they partially learn the lesson that fair is not about giving each the same, but each according to his need. I love that if one of the children are in the throws of some project they love, or a book they can’t wait to finish, I can let them go on and on and on. I don’t have to interrupt them to begin the next subject, or change classes, or get to the cafeteria. And if we want to stay in our jammies all day, reading aloud together, or make a matinee’, we can. I love that we’re tying bonds with them, that let them know, we are a family. And a family is a blessing. Something to revolve around, treasure, protect and keep safe.
Being home with me so much has allowed them to see sides of me I might have hidden, if I knew in an hour, they’d be out the door. And in seeing these parts of their mother, I am a person in my own right. I get frustrated. Angry. Sad. I cry. And they can push my buttons and their behavior does have an effect on others, including me. They have begun to learn compassion for me, their father. Be aware of the air in our home. And care about it staying clear and bright. I love that they are learning how to handle their emotions, in a healthy way, and that I’m there with near constant back up. I can reinforce what we want instilled in them, and not worry about what is going on with them while they’re out there. Under the authority of others. Exposed more to the influence of others, than to their mom and dad, while they are still tender shoots.
Maybe what I love most is the chance to do for them what we’ve been called to do. To train them up in the way they should go. By spending the countless hours with them that I do, I am given the opportunity to use those hours wisely. And prayerfully, I do. Most of the time. We have a chance to get them from here to there, safe. Happy. Healthy. Whole. And when they are no longer tender shoots, but strong and grounded, they’ll hopefully be able to take on what the world will most certainly dish out. And hopefully they’ll remember who they are, and from where they come, and that there is always a safe place to which they can come. They are integral members of a family. Ours, and God’s. With a destiny of their own to fill. And I just love that I get to be a part of it.
