School...At Home

I've known this blog post was coming for a while now. I've meticulously mulled it over in my head for a few weeks now. Chosen my words carefully and cautiously. Pondered and thought some more. And no doubt after all that mental work, it will still turn out worded not quite the way I want it to. But I digress...
It all began the middle of the school year last year. The twins were entering toddlerhood and getting into anything and everything. They were busy and demanding as I attempted to school the girls during the day. I was feeling overwhelmed and overworked...and at the extreme end of my rope, so to speak. In the night I would awake and my brain would run for hours at a time. Doubt. Worry. Fear. Feeling the pressure of our first daughter's imminent future, my thoughts repetitiously chanting, Four more years. Only four more years and our firstborn will have completed high school. Then what? I would toss and turn, my stomach an acidy, achy pit. Have I taught her enough? Will she be ready? Have I done right by her? Have I sheltered too much...too little? Endless minutes of self-doubt and dread. The clock would tick on. After it appeared that this was much bigger than I, Hubs and I spoke about it. Our better halves just have a way of bringing perspective back around to a more "sane" level. Although he gave me more clarity, little changed the thoughts or feelings I was having. And this newly acquired insomnia that kept rearing it's ugly head.
Now. I'm not usually one to stress too much about the future. I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants sort of gal...it's what works for me. But. This is my children's lives that I hold so tightly in my hands. And perhaps that's the biggest problem altogether. I worry over their future...even though I know I'm not in full control of it, anyhow. I stress that I've not given and done enough for them...even though I'm full aware my God is bigger than my shortcomings. I question the choices I make...even though I pray God's grace to blanket any mistakes. So, I had to ask myself where on earth this new found wavering came from that shakes the very core of me. And...I came to some conclusions.
The world around us is intimidating. So intimidating. Even the strongest of people fall prey to feeling as though they ought to "fit in" to standards and standings and charts and statistics. We are so easily swayed with what "normal" ought to look like, that should we deviate from it's path we're left feeling insecure and odd. Which is precisely where I found myself most nights while the moon shined bright, and my mind refused to slumber. Perhaps I've listened a little longer than I ought to have to the worldly whisperings that my children won't have had a fair enough chance in this great big world, being sheltered and homsechooled. Maybe I let other people's opinions linger too heavy on my heart when they offer their negative viewpoints. Haughty looks that sear into my soul. For sure I know what they're implying by the questions they so curiously ask...questions that I don't, in fact, have the answers to...because the future is simply not unfolding as of yet. Because...if the truth be told...I don't know the answers myself. And that leaves me rather insecure under scrutinizing eyes.
And...if I must get real truthful and raw, I will admit...I'm not 100% certain that I am doing the absolute best by my kids. I wouldn't be arrogant to say that by homeschooling my kids, they won't ever struggle with peer pressure. They will. They already do to some extent. Or make wrong choices. Which they already do. Or live the rest of their lives making poor choices. Because, although my heart really, really wants to believe otherwise, I know that they absolutely may. And the world will be ever so quick to proclaim, "It was because they were homeschooled!", no doubt. For we all know that there must be some underlying parenting choice to be blamed....rather than it be a choice of one's own free will. But...why should I care what they think, anyhow? Truth is...to some extent...I do. We all do. It's just how we were wired. Desiring to be accepted in a world in which there is no true acceptance. It's a conundrum of sorts.
And so...this week we began our tenth year into this journey of homeschooling. Except this year is somehow different. I still feel intensely responsible....but I accept that I will not create academically perfect children. I humbly admit that I fall short. Daily, in fact. I am not a professional educator. I am often impatient. Lazy at times. Not very skilled at mathematics. History bores me. Strict schedules stress me.
But.
I am the mother of these five children. I birthed them into existence, and I've nurtured their lives every single day since. I know them inside and out. I've taken time to build into them, to shield them, and to correct them. I've spent hours upon hours training, teaching, guiding, shaping, molding. I would be lying if I said for one moment that it's been easy. But I knew I wasn't choosing the easy road. This is the journey we chose years ago, and although the methods, intents and motives may have changed...I still choose to remain on course. I'm not done yet. I'm fully invested. And although I know the end result may not look how I choose for it to look, I know that it will be okay. I won't regret spending so much time an energy on accepting the privilege of watching and helping my children grow up. Even if it feels a bit odd and uncomfortable at times to go against the flow. When all is said and done, this Mama can only hope and pray that one day they see and understand just how much watching and learning them as they grow has blessed me. If I had to do it all over again...I'd still choose the journey we're on. It's not just my responsibility...it's my extreme honor.