I was sitting on the floor, my head resting against the wall, a cloud of overwhelm threatening to suffocate me. Time to get up, stand up, and put one foot in front of the other. What’s the next step? Less. The next step is less.

Jesus led me by the hand, me leaning on Him like a cane, to the big recliner chair. “Sit,” he motioned kindly. He brought me a cup of tea and sat down next to me, leaning forward, ready to listen, when the words to speak finally came. Like a good friend. So I began.

I began with tears and then with thumping my fist in anger. He brought me a Kleenex and listened attentively to my outburst. “It’s going to be okay,” He whispered as He embraced me in His invisible, tangible love. I saw tears in His eyes too when mine were moist. And I could see in His eyes that the anger in Him against my injustice was greater than the anger I felt. 

He lives with an ocean of pain, an ocean of righteous anger, an ocean of love. The tip of the iceberg of His emotions is reflected in His eyes, as his eyes mirror our own. Our eyes are like black-and-white versions of emotion, while His eyes are too vivacious in bright colors to look at for more than an instant. 

The depth of His understanding of whatever we are going through is like mining through the infinite core of His soul, where His pain resides. We see but a few grains of sand from this excavation on the surface, through the compassion of His eyes. His eyes understand me. And so, because I am loved by the One who understands me, and because He will be right beside me again today, his hands even now on my arm, urging me to stand, I can take the next step.

I lean against His arm, all day, again, lest I should fall. He guides me, showing me what can remain undone today, and what plants need watering. Who will stumble across my path who needs love today? I can comfort her because I have been comforted by the Greatest Comforter. I take another step, feeling stronger. Lord, help me to pour out Your love on a thirsty world, yet again today.

I see you! Yes, you, there on the couch, your hair disheveled, clothes could use a freshening up. I see your toddlers running circles next to you around the living room table, puzzle pieces falling as they run past. The dog eats another puzzle piece.

And you? Staring straight ahead, comatose. Homeschooling hasn’t turned out the way you thought it would. Where is my inner Mary Poppins, you ask yourself? Didn’t you too, like the rest of us, think you would open your bag of magical homeschooling tricks, and the kids would gasp, enthralled, as they watched, listened, wrote, helped clean up, and dutifully struggled, erased, and then redid their math problems?

We thought we would sit by and watch as their brains grew bigger, didn’t we? We thought we would have tea with another homeschooling Mom, like CEOs of a big company. We would be well dressed, with a notepad and pen, putting our heads together to help each other solve the challenges confronting our homeschooled kids. No problem. We’ve got this, we would think. We can handle it.

Instead, real life has overwhelmed us. Did anyone tell you that a smear of jam would be next to every light switch and in random places on the wall? (Or toothpaste in our home… “Why???” I pleaded with my daughter.). Did you think that you actually wouldn’t care? That your cleaning skills would be on the level of ensuring that all of the dog vomit is cleaned up, but apart from that, anything goes? (I actually have a dog vomit not cleaned up story(!!!) but that one is for when I know you better. A lot better.)

Anyway, hi Mom, it’s me! And, no, unfortunately for you, I am not super homeschooling Mom here to help out. I’m just here to put my arm around you and to say, “Well done. Keep on in the trenches.” Because not many or perhaps no one is saying that to you. My pockets are empty of tricks and tips that can actually help you. But the internet is full of amazing opportunities for wonderful, real-life superhero homeschooling moms (they don’t actually exist but don’t tell them that- it would ruin their Facebook ratings) to help you when you are strong enough, again, to pull yourself off the couch.

But for now, I put my arm around you, as you weep, dear homeschooling Mom, because not long ago, I was you. I didn’t always have someone to encourage me, either. Nothing to offer, just a shoulder to cry on, and someone to pass you a box of Kleenex. And when you have let go of the expectations that you had for yourself and for your kids, then the fun of homeschooling really begins. Now, let’s get up off the couch, shall we? I have a few stories to encourage you.

I’m NOT planning to actually be useful to you, remember. But just to help you stand up while leaning on my arm. And then to help you to take the very next step. You’ll be running again. I promise. But what you are running towards may be very different from what you expected. It turns out that this homeschooling gig isn’t just about your kids. It’s time for you to get a makeover, too.

A spiritual makeover. You ready? Ok, let’s take the first step, together. Wait – is your dog vomiting? No problem. I’ve been there too. Let’s clean it up, together, and then figure out the next step we need to take. I’ve got your arm. Come on, Mom. Time to get up off the couch. No need to feel like you are alone. There’s a whole bunch of us, and we all have been in exactly your position not long ago. Come on!

“But what happens when we live God’s way? . . . We develop a willingness to stick with things . . .” The Message

Thank you Lord that we can be honest with our exhaustion and discouragement, together. Lord would you help us to hand our friends a coffee and the cup of love that always accompanies your presence. Help them to stand, to run again, Lord, completing the good purposes that You have for each of us to do, we pray. Help us Lord to stick with this calling until we have finished the race that You have asked us to complete. Oh, and transform us, we pray.