Schooliversary

Last week he reminded me that December 9th would be their 1-year anniversary. I can't believe he remembered the date. He's only in third grade. 

December 9th was the day he and his sister began public school. 

I've written about our journey from homeschool to public school quite a bit. I am less emotional now than I was at the beginning, more sure that this is right. For us. For now.

Nothing about school, whether you do it under your roof, your church's roof, or the state's roof, is perfect. Convictions, values, the child's needs, the parents' needs, lifestyle, safety, academic excellence, money, and goals--they all play a part in what can be a grueling decision.

My hope has always been that we could make a decision and that I would be able to rest in it. I don't arrive at decisions easily and once they're made, I tend to second-guess them. It's a torturous thing for all involved. 

But this week I realized the sweetest thing. My kids have been in public school for a year and I have found rest in this reality. 

I no longer cry. I rarely fret, not about school anyway. I am at peace with a reality that I didn't think I could feel peaceful about. 

There are difficult days and things I don't like. I really miss the flexibility and downtime. Homework can be a waste of time. Grades are often too important. Standardized testing creates too much pressure and stress, something young kids shouldn't have to deal with. Books, lunches, instruments, and homework assignments have all been left behind on one day or another, stresses I didn't know when we homeschooled.  

But then there are the gifts: 

Devoted teachers who really care and guidance counselors who go to bat; new friendships that are so very sweet and old friendships that have been rekindled; read-aloud time in special needs classrooms; an invitation to bring my grandfather to a Veterans Day lunch; pajama mornings and parties and plays. 

"Tougher and rougher" kids have taught my relatively sheltered children that not every child enjoys a life wrapped in love, provision, and needful boundaries. To and from commutes allow precious time for dialogue, debriefing, and even prayer. And this mom? She's less depleted and has more energy to just be a mom. 

One year in, amid the good days and the rough ones, my soul is at a place of rest. And this? Is no small gift. 

..........................................

Today, we're unwrapping the gifts of the everyday over at Emily's {Chatting at the Sky.} And we'll be doing it each Tuesday of December. 

What can you unwrap? 

{from Emily} Anything that causes you to pause and celebrate the moment. Not what will be or what is to come, but what is real and true this day: the messy, the lovely, and the unexpected. Share a photo, a story, or anything that offers a glimpse into your own journey of discovering the gifts in the midst of the ordinary.

Join us?