Winter break ends tomorrow, and we are all counting the hours. The boys miss school– the structure, the camaraderie, the sense of purpose. School sparks a love of learning and doing that no amount of reading Garfield comics can elicit. When I homeschooled, the lines got blurred. I counted some days on break as homeschool, because I wanted to beef up academically. After all, if a child’s play is his work, then he’s doing double duty and I ought to record it, no? If we turn the Legos into a car propelled by a balloon, we can fill in a block of science, so why wouldn’t I? Instead of “Please stop reading comics aloud, I’m trying to think!” it was “Please read Garfield aloud so we can test your reading comprehension.” Reading is reading, and who would ever stop a kid from reading? (Answer: Only a mother who is about to lose her mind.) Then the real world called and reminded me I was doing them no favors.
Boundaries–those at school and at home–are actually tools for expansion and growth, not a fence to hoard everything inside. It’s better to have a bird’s eye view of the property than one standing on my tiptoes, straining to see what’s over the fence.
The kids, post holiday, are bored with home life and ready to jump back into the arena. Luke, who I had to bribe to try the school lunch three months ago, said, “I can’t wait for pizza day. Boy, I hope we get homework.” It’s only been two weeks, and I surely sound sappy (maybe because we didn’t have extended family visit for Christmas)–but we’re anxious to see our friends again.
I can feel the eye rolls of the righteous. I sing the public school love song not because I’m in love with the system but because I know that stepping out in faith is my very best offering to Christ. I’ve cast my bread out on the water and it has returned to me. My children haven’t suffered, the result of pack mentality. There is so much beauty in knowing and being known. The teachers are the cream of the crop. They are in it because they love kids and no paycheck offers satisfaction like pointing students down the path to success. They are the first to rejoice when skills improve and they are the first to worry when the absences pile up unexplained.
Last week I was presented with a new school-related opportunity. The email landed in my inbox with fireworks–Check out these test scores! Your kid qualifies! Don’t miss the boat!
It would change our direction and put the kids in what would be called a “better” school. “Better”–supposedly more academically challenging for my under-academically-challenged kid. I feel like it’s a dilemma even if common sense would tell me it’s a no-brainer. I’m world-weary. Must we always be chasing the highest route?
Lots of times I’ve been consoled by someone with, “Well, you’ve got to do what’s right for your family/what’s best for your kids.”
But what if my idea of right or best isn’t God’s idea of what’s right or best?
Usually my idea amounts to pouring energy into my own affairs. Controlling my future, securing my assets. A lot of times I want to barter with Him because I hate risk. Loss. Failure. Disappointment. In fact God, don’t worry about me. I’ll use my job, money, health, youth, looks, influence, reasoning, mental muscle and I’ll just brace up this whole system. You know I’m a hard worker. I have enough willpower and motivation for it to be a straight path to success.
What a fool I am to think I’ve got it under control! He can see farther into the future than I. In my mind, if I just stick to what I know, keep my kids away from troublemakers, I’ve got a great shot at things turning out. But Jesus laid out his perspective on things: “In this world you will have trouble,” He promised (John 16:33). It isn’t my job to figure out how to skirt problems. He already knows what I don’t. “But take heart! I have overcome the world.” He promises to walk in it with me.
While I’m secretly fretting about middle school and potential teenage nastiness, He’s already got it planned–He knows the roadblocks that will ultimately change my little bookworm boys into men of outstanding character.
Finally, if I’m doing what is right and best, sticking to what has always been safest, where does my self and family idolatry end? Also–where’s the adventure?
His ways are ultimately way better than mine. Yes, I trust you Lord, even with my kids. If we know anything about Jesus, it is that He doesn’t play the game of Life like we do. His economy, his calendar is not like ours. We try to be wise, and we think being wise looks like staying on the beaten path, the historically proven course. The college path over career, a couple kids, retirement. But He doesn’t look down from Heaven and see jagged cliffs and dead ends when we move to another city, quit college, take a different job, have ten kids, or enroll our kids in school. Better stay on the right path, Pearl! Don’t blow it!
No, the wise person trusts Him, and His assurance is this:
He will keep in perfect peace those whose mind is fixed on Him; because he trusts in Him.
Isaiah 26:3
I say this with great reverence: He is a benevolent GPS, redirecting our course when we miss the left turn. He is a good Shepherd, lighting our path as we walk around in freedom. He can turn bad things into good. He straightens out the curves. He is the Light, the only way to see clearly in the dark.
Our God isn’t a great cosmic couch potato with a remote in His hand, waiting to zap us. No, we trust He is good, that He is love, and that His love is being poured out on us when we are uncertain about our future. This is our worship, to fix our minds on Him, to trust Him. He points us to the eternal, and it’s just a few stepping stones away.
