Pressing On

Last night something amusing happened. As I clicked on my own blog for the umpteenth time that day, my husband finally asked me a burning question: "Why do you do that? Go to your blog all the time?" 

He knew I wasn't writing anything: I'd only hover for a moment and then click away to another page. What was obvious to me (I was following any new posts on the "Blogs I Read" in the right-hand column) was lost to him (he sincerely questioned why his wife repeatedly looked at the same set of photos over and over again!) 

This scenario was good for a burst of laughter, but it also served as a reminder of what I tell myself each time I briefly look at my blog page:

I don't know what to say.

I might point out, when the least is written, the most may be happening. In our current stage of life what is "happening" is not extremely exciting, but it is consuming and it is exhausting. It's a simple word (or two? I'm never exactly sure!) called HOMESCHOOL.

Thankfully, someone else - a mom with just as little time but a whole lot more ability to string more than a couple of words together, apparently! - wrote a wonderful piece on her blog today that spoke so well to our present reality. It was aptly titled, "There is No Break" and as I shared on my Facebook status this evening:

I found myself nodding in understanding while reading this post! While this most likely will not continue to be our reality upon returning to Chile, I have an incredibly greater appreciation for those mothers who home school, and do it patiently and well, after our own experience this year.

What an emotional roller coaster homeschooling has been for us! There was a Monday morning a couple of weeks ago where I literally sat at the table among my three who are being schooled, and as I wrote their assignments into daily logbooks the tears flowed along with the script of the pencil on the page. They didn't want to do school; neither did I. They weren't motivated; neither was I. They were tired; so was I. They had so many things they would rather do than school; so did I! 

There are so many days when I listen to the complaints; referee the disagreements; teach the finer points of language; and long for a big yellow school bus to magically appear at my door. There are lunchtimes when I pile up the sandwiches; serve the carrot sticks; pour the sticky lemonade; and imagine the wonders of a school cafeteria with lunch ladies who are not called Mom (at least by my kids!)

But then ... there are the days when everything clicks; when siblings smile; when science turns into a snuggling session and a great discussion of our great God; and I realize that I have spent hours upon hours upon hours with my children this furlough year and that next year will never be the same. 

 And so we keep pressing on ...