Yes Snowball

Today is our first day of Home Sweet Holmes-school…for the eleventh time.

Never did I imagine this school journey. Never, ever did I imagine I would teach anyone’s children. And never, ever, to the exponential never did I imagine I would homeschool my children.  

I never intended to homeschool. How could I? I have two children. TWO, not twelve. I don’t even wear dresses, let alone a denim jumper. I don’t drive a minivan, let alone a 15-passenger van. And I’m fresh out of chickens because this suburbanite doesn’t own a pair of Muck boots. Obviously, I can’t homeschool, so I thought.

Our oldest was three-years-old at the time, attending preschool a couple days a week. I remember eagerly signing her up for preschool, thinking, “I will have exactly 2:15 minutes to myself twice a week.” I was delighted for us both. What an adventure it was going to be! The week I enrolled Sophia was the week I found out I was pregnant...due one week after she would start preschool. Well, that was a short break.

Partway through that first preschool year, our public schools changed to all-day, every day kindergarten. Hmm… Out of nowhere, I felt something spark inside me. Wait, what? A tiny ember of desire I eagerly attempted to snuff out. Homeschool? I can.not.homeschool.my.children. My list of reasons was long: I’m planning to go back to work. I don’t have a teaching degree. Homeschool kids are weird. 

Okay, my list wasn’t that long.

But my heart was nowhere near ready to release my ideas of what life would look like. I see now that God was never asking me to homeschool my kids’ entire school career that fateful day of 3’s preschool. He was asking me to say yes to one small step. One small conversation. One book to read. One teacher to confide in, then one more teacher.

Much like rolling an itty, bitty snowball to create a solid snowman base, my tiny yes made the next tiny yes a little bit easier.

The next year-and-a-half I talked with ANYONE and EVERYONE I could find with any working knowledge about homeschooling. I read, and read, and read. I called schools and got public school grade level assessments. I attempted to get my ducks in a row despite still not having any chickens. 

And then came the day. It was Kindergarten Roundup at what would have been my daughter’s elementary school, the day you meet the teachers, and we DID NOT GO. One small yes led to one more.

And now, 11 years later, I look back over a decade-plus of “yes snowballs.” Yes to trying homeschool for one year. Yes to laying down dreams to embrace new ones, better ones. Yes to making new friends. (PS. They weren’t that weird.) Yes to hours of curating curriculum. Yes to “holiness boot camp” because there’s nowhere to hide when you homeschool. All your stuff hangs out. You’ll get frustrated, embarrassed, snappy, and make everyone cry at some point. You’ll cry yourself. But then…

You’ll apologize. You’ll make hot cocoa. You’ll snuggle your kids. You’ll receive forgiveness. You’ll extend forgiveness. You’ll grow. You’ll bond. You’ll create inside jokes. You’ll hear your child read and think, “I did that,” not in a prideful way but a proud way. You’ll walk alongside your student, your child, your friend. You might get chickens, but that’s not, like, a rule or anything. (I still don’t have chickens, a dress, or a mini-van.)

It’s a different journey. It’s a difficult journey. It’s a worthy journey. It’s a worthwhile journey. Eleven years in, and I’m so grateful I said yes to one tiny step.

What one small yes can you take today? I won’t promise it will be easy, but I can promise you won’t be alone. I’m praying for you, friend… all along the way.