I was only three days in, people. Three. Days. We (loosely) homeschooled last year for the first time which was…interesting. And hard. And hard. (Yep. Double-hard.) But I headed into this fresh year-two with optimism and a (sometimes fake) smile.

We bought new school supplies. We went shoe shopping. I got a big map rug and big map puzzle and big map beach ball, because that’s what homeschool people do. I was ready — like jaw-clinched, this-thing-aint-taking-me-down-this-time ready.

And three days in, I melted. Crumbled. Collapsed under the weight of three kids at three different levels asking eight million two hundred forty-six thousand three hundred sixteen questions an hour. Crumbled.

Halfway through the third morning I told my children that I was officially done. (They thought I meant for the day, but I really mean for.ever.) And then I locked myself in the bathroom with a crazed-look in my eye going through a mental roladex of every single school in a twenty-mile radius of our home wondering if I could still enroll them for this Fall. Bye freakin’ bye.

Don’t you feel so sorry for me with my first-world problems.

Breathe.

Then I had a moment of clarity from Jesus and sent out a tearful SOS to some dear friends, and to my mother, for prayer. Because I was (hormonally) desperate for some clarification that I was even on the right road with this h@m&$c#00l insanity. And that if I was to continue in this…journey…that God needed to do something really huge in me because I was certain that I would lose my ever-loving mind teaching my precious boy to read. For the love!

Three. Days. In.

My mom told me to bring the kids over so that I could have some time to refocus. She took them to the pool. I sat in her kitchen with Jesus and asked Him to talk to me. And in my spirit, I heard Him say, “Lara, what do you want?”

What do I want?

I knew what He meant. I knew that He meant, “What desires have I put in you in recent months as you have spent time worshipping me?” (Psalm 37:4) So I got a scrap piece of paper and started a list.

“I want them to know you and love you more than they know and love anything else on this planet. And I want to reflect you to them.” Pause. Crickets. Pause. “And I want them to learn this stuff that I’ve bought to teach them. I want them to learn it. But I need help. I need wisdom. I need some space to myself at times! I don’t know what the heck I’m doing and I feel like I’m suffocating.” I can be a little dramatic.

Then, I can’t really trace how it all happened, but He led my thoughts to some practical things we could change with regard to how we schedule our day. He calmed me internally and guided me externally (through YouTube and the blog-o-sphere and friends). He lifted my head. He kept me from running. And the next day, the changes He led me to make actually worked for us! Imagine that.

Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. (Jeremiah 29:12-13)

I’m not one of those who always wanted to homeschool. And I’m not one who thinks that homeschooling is the only best choice. In fact, if I’m totally honest, I fight against jealousy as I watch my friends on Instagram wave good-bye to their sweet little people while I bury myself in phonics sounds and stories of explorers in the New World. Which I am totally dumb about. But homeschooling is where God has our family this year. And I believe that He’s led us here for good, holy reasons. And He’s meeting us right in the midst of it with blessings of Himself, now five days in.

Just because something is hard, doesn’t mean we’re on the wrong road. In fact, anything that strips us of self and teaches us greater dependence on Jesus is a gift.

These days, homeschooling is my personal messy place. It’s not earth-shattering or world-altering yet, but it’s where we are. And wherever we find ourselves — whatever the mess, big or small — God can be found. He wants to be found. And whenever we press into Him, He ushers in His peace and joy and love and hope and wisdom for our journey. Amen for grace.

And a word to those who are now worried for me or my children, I promise I’m OK. God is faithfully meeting me. He’s showing me His blessings in this journey. And…I adore my kids.

 
Fill me, Lord…

Want to join me in baring your soul? Share a time when you felt like running away but you pressed into God and He lifted your head.

 

The post for when we want to quit and run away {homeschool} appeared first on Lara Howard.

Fear or pride. Or both.

Ugh. It’s not pretty, people. But just think of all those times those words have come out of your mouth. And then be honest. Peel back the layers and identify the root.

Maybe it was as superficial as “I will never drive a mini-van.” Ahem. Pride. Or “I will never go to Africa as a missionary.” Umm. Fear. And maybe pride.

But we all know what God does about fear or pride when it takes up residence in the heart of His child. He uncovers it. He exposes it. Because fear and pride steal from us.

I think I need to say that again.

Fear and pride steal from us.

He isn’t trying to be mean when He calls us to go somewhere we said we’d never go. Or when He allows us to fall into some sin pit we swore we’d never stumble into. He just loves us. And He has freedom for us. And if fear and pride somehow define a crevice of our heart, then He will graciously break that wide open.

For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands, for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.
2 Timothy 1:6-7

So fill in the blank, “I will never…” And then dig down to the root. He hasn’t given us a spirit of fear. And pride comes before a fall.

If fear is driving that “I would never” then let’s simply say, “As You will, Lord. Have Your way. I trust You to be forever faithful and to always cover me in Your love. Your ways are higher and Your plans for me are good.” Fear of man or circumstance has no rightful place in the child of God.

If pride lies behind that “I would never” then let’s say, “Lord, forgive me for acting as if I know what tomorrow holds. Forgive me for believing that I’m too good to fall or too smart to trip. Have Your way Lord. You alone are God and I’m constantly needy for Your great and awesome grace.” He lifts those who bow low.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.
1 Peter 5:6-7

Life may tempt us to breathe out “I will never” statements, but take this as a warning from someone whose “I will nevers” have almost all come true. Fear and/or pride lie at the root. And He will faithfully, lovingly expose.

 
Fill me, Lord…

What are some of your present or past “I will never” statements?
Can you see fear or pride at the root?
 

The post never ever say “never” appeared first on Lara Howard.

I’ve been here a few times before — stepping onto ground I didn’t ask for and never would have chosen. Sometimes it’s been rocky, desolate, near-dangerous ground. Other times it’s just been a little unpredictable and slightly inconvenient to my plans — like now.

But regardless of the degree, I still don’t like the menu. And He typically has to coax me through the front door. And something always smells funny in here.

That’s where I’m at. Heading down a new path I wouldn’t have chosen.

To make a long story somewhat short, I’ve never ever wanted to homeschool. Ever. Did I say “ever”? But as we prayed about what to do next year — as we’ve prayed every year — God has nudged us in that direction. And I must admit it has come with personal nausea, induced by fear.

I could go on and on about the feelings I felt when I withdrew them from school for next year. Or how overwhelmed I can get when I think about that scary “c” word. (“curriculum”) But I’ll spare you the details.

All that to say, God sometimes leads us to do things we don’t necessarily want to do. I mean, I don’t think Jesus wanted to die on a gruesome cross. Not that homeschooling is equivalent to crucifixion. But if we’re seeking Him, there will be times when He leads us to do something that our emotions rise up against.

That’s why I have to remember that feelings are real, but they aren’t always reliable. Feelings fluctuate and move. They’re fluid and fallen. God’s wisdom, on the other hand, is a firm foundation.

My husband and I don’t sense God being harsh. In fact, I believe He would be faithful to draw our kids to Himself even if we kept them in school. But for us, next year, we think it’s a decision of “best.” We think He has certain blessings for our family that we’d miss if we chose to not follow His lead.

So, what to do? Well, if we don’t yet know God’s leading about something, my advice is pretty simple (and somewhat churchy). Keep praying. Keep searching the Scriptures. Keep asking Him for wisdom. But the most important thing: Expect Him to answer!

Expect Him to answer.

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind.
James 1:5-6

He promises to give wisdom to those who ask. He promises to guide the feet of His children. Emotions may not agree with the road He points us down, but eventually emotions come around as we follow after Him. I’m banking on that one.

 
Fill me, Lord…

Tell me about a time when God led you down a road you didn’t choose or plan. How did He bless once you followed His lead?
 

 
And for the record: This will not turn into a homeschool blog. And I don’t believe that a person has to homeschool to be a good mom or dad. This is just where God has our family for the coming year. Prayers appreciated.
 

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