Homeschooling

Is Holy Spirit Attempting to Waken You?

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

Yeah, so I might have had a small touch of fear now and then over my lifetime.

OK, let’s admit it. Fear is paralyzing me, my constant friend.

Jesus walks over to me, crouches in the corner next to me, and offers me His arm. It is time to stand. I rise on quaking legs.

He is asking me to run. He hangs back, crouching down low to whisper in my ear as I hide in the fetal position. Time to run, His eyes bid. He gazes in the direction He wants me to travel.

I pull the covers over my head. I am trying to go back to sleep.

Wake, wake, dear one. He whispers. He is shaking me, gently. Wake up.

And so the decision rests in my heart. Will I get up, rub my half-seeing eyes and stand into the new thing that God is calling me to?

Or will I put in earplugs to distance myself from the sound of Jesus’ voice and go back to sleep?

The choice is mine. The choice is yours. What is your heart’s reply?

One day He asked me to run into a cooking adventure. The result freed my daughter from expectations around various diagnoses that tried to pin her down.

One day He threw me into the deep end of the spiritual swimming pool. I awoke more fully with the splash of water and have been swimming more deeply, in a spiritual sense, since that day.

One day He asked me to homeschool, again, another year. This was many years after I thought I would change my apron for a real job, one that actually pays money in exchange for work. A job that is recognized culturally as actually “doing” something worthwhile.

I left my career identity by the side of the road and followed Jesus down a narrower path to homeschool longer, my inexperienced feet aching from the journey of following Him.

I had wanted to go back to sleep then, too. To rest in the comforting mold of what regular people do. Go to work. Put their kids in school.

And yet, maybe He is using our unappreciated homeschooling journeys to bring hope to society.

He woke me again this morning, early. Write, my dear one, write, He whispered.

Are you the one that I am writing for?

Are you, like me, also beginning to wake up?

In your drowsy state, do you sense He is trying to waken you, too?

Are you being awakened to pour more of your life into your children, to grow, grow, grow in hearing His voice, to a creative endeavour, too?

To something else?

If so, welcome to the adventure of a lifetime of following Jesus!

He walks ahead of you, bidding you to follow.

Will you trust Him enough to join Him on His journey for your life?

If we can leave our fear behind, the journey is exhilarating.

This is what God says . . . “Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? The Message

Holy Spirit, help us to be able to hear You when You call us to a new thing. May we be brave enough to follow You. After a few moments of quietly listening for the voice of God as the song below plays, ask Jesus, “What direction do you want me to travel in this next season? What needs to be left behind?”

Why Cleaning Eggs Off The Floor (Aka Homeschooling) Is Hope For Society

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

We attended our city’s annual carnival event. “Get me out of here!”, my brain screamed after only a few minutes.

One of the rides closed after a variety of kids vomited on it. The fair was too hot, too loud, too much garbage overflowing from the cans, junk food at every corner.

If this is one of the highlights of the year for our local kids, as it is for many, no wonder there is so much despair among youth.

We could smell pot as the older kids drifted past us.

If this is as good as it gets for our teens, it’s not very good.

Thankfully one of my kids, and her friend felt the same way.

We drove to a nearby nature park to the “Critter Day” event, to learn about local plants and animals.

It was much quieter. The wind blew through the trees nearby. The sounds were of muffled conversation and some hammers pounding softly as local kids assembled birdhouses.

I was enthralled as a scientist described a local insect that lays its eggs into a host’s body, which the larvae then feed on until it is time to hatch. He showed us the bug’s rear body part that was perfectly designed for this one bizarre behavior.

I was a bit distracted, looking elsewhere, while my daughter and her friend asked questions of the entomologist. They moved on.

“Are your kids homeschooled?” the entomologist asked me. “Huh? Oh yes. That’s my daughter’s friend and she is homeschooled too. Why do you ask?”

“I can always tell who the homeschooled kids are.”

“How?” I asked, intrigued.

“They ask questions and engage at a level of someone who is 40 or 50 years old.

I travel all around and see it time and again,” he continued. “The public school kids say, “Oh, bugs,” and move on, staring into their phones.

The public school kids don’t engage.”

I felt sad. “It’s quite a feat, isn’t it, that the public school system can stamp the love of learning out of children.”*

It dawned on me that this man was a Ph.D. type, definitely overqualified for conversations with Grade 3 kids. He had driven several hours, as a volunteer, to be there.

I was curious about what motivated him, and he unburdened his heart as we spoke.

“I’m really worried about the future of our society,” he continued.

“What do you do with kids who aren’t even engaged? But wherever I go, I find hope in the homeschooled kids. They are the ones asking questions, interested.

I travel to fairs hoping that kids are engaged with their natural world so they will be motivated to find solutions to the immense challenges we are facing as a culture.”

My eyes welled up.

Yes, how do we encourage kids to engage with the wonder of creation, so they may be motivated to protect this incredible biodiversity as unprecedented challenges face our culture?

Perhaps providing hope for our culture is another reason to consider homeschooling.

You got this, Mom, Dad.

Keep being a world changer, Mom, Dad, in your own, hectic, cleaning-eggs-off-the-floor way.

Every homeschooling day you make it through lends a bit more hope to our society.

Blogpost Footnotes

*The public school system is undeniably broken. This TED talk, for example, is the most popular TED talk of all time.

Don’t Laugh At Me Yet

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

No. It isn’t funny. We concur with you. We empathize. We feel your pain. We’ve been there. This is NOT funny……. (yet). We turn away when the snicker rises up. We don’t want you to see the guffaw. Not YET. Yet is the keyword.

My daughter is a minor chemist. She has mixed and remade so many versions of slime that she could create her own YouTube channel if she wanted to (in fact, she does and likely will). She was thrilled with the quality and texture of her most recent recipe, bounding down the stairs to lay her magnificent creation before my unappreciative eyes.

“Oh yes, it’s more stretchy,” I expressed, grasping to appreciate homemade slime. She couldn’t hear my lack of astonishment. She was a momma and this new batch of slime was her baby. No one, nothing, could tempt her to see a lack of wonder towards her beloved. This I could understand.

But it was unbelievably annoying when later that morning, after using our bathroom, I automatically rested my hand where the hand pump soap sits, and … nothing. The soap was gone. I actually thought I was going mad. I couldn’t find my teaspoon measure (again) later in the day. Random things seem to appear from thin air in bizarre locations, and others disappear with no rhyme or reason.

So it wasn’t funny. Yet. Can we not even keep soap in the bathroom, this hygienic essential? What is wrong with our household? I stumbled to the coffee machine in an effort to increase brain cells, to seek comfort from another cup of java. How is it that we don’t even have what we need to function at the most basic of levels? I asked myself.

I was discouraged. My identity was somehow wrapped up in a $6 bottle of hand soap. If I’m the one directing this ship, together with my hardworking husband, why is there another hole in the boat?

Coffee wasn’t solving my problem. But laughter did. Unentangling my identity from the bottle of hand soap helped. Waiting for the YET, which I could sense somehow, was coming, was the relief that I needed.

So, of course, our daughter used the family bathroom hand soap to make her most recent batch of glorious slime. Why wouldn’t she? And yes, she did put it . . . somewhere. Now where was it?

Here is the YET. I am NOT actually incapable of having enough of the basic essentials available to avoid a major health hazard. I am homeschooling. And my daughter is the inventor. Of COURSE, we may not have soap to wash our hands every now and then.

Relating this story to a friend later that day was long enough for the YET to arrive. Pull my hair out, question my ability to safely homeschool my children a few hours ago. And now it’s funny.

Because our little inventor is ridiculous. And so am I. Who ties their self-worth to the state of organization of their home? We need each other, her and I. God has plans for us both.

So she returned the soap. I had a laugh with my friend, who relayed a similar homeschooling mishap, and we went on with storytime together. And I am learning again, that because I am ridiculous, and because I live with those who are ridiculous, funny stuff happens.

I see your lips twitching the next time I share my frustrating homeschooling mishap. It’s math time. Has anyone seen all of our pencils? You look away, trying not to burst into laughter in my face. Not yet.

But you are the ones chosen by God . . . chosen to be a holy people … from nothing to something, from rejected to accepted. The Message‬‬

Do you sometimes throw away your identity as a child of God and link your self-worth, instead, to a $6 bottle of hand soap, or other expectation for yourself as Captain of the ship? Are you frantically bailing out a sinking ship, or is this just not funny (yet)?

How To Make Homeschooled Kids Clean Up (Avoid Insanity, Parents!)

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

This post could make you feel like a Superhero Mama in Clark Kent clothes (OK – Clark Kent clothes with a bit of spit-up on them. Who’s looking THAT closely?) because this post is filled to the brim with advice about how to make your homeschooled kids clean up.

(Or at least there is one piece of advice somewhere in this post. I hope you can find it. While you’re looking, have you seen any pencils? We lost all of ours so it’s becoming harder to do our math.)

We moms sit on the floor, despair weighing us down as the kids fly paper airplanes around us, laughing, and the dog follows. We had a great day, yes. The homeschooling party is over for the day, yes. Mom is exhausted and she can’t even find a few inches of kitchen space to drag out the carrots to chop for dinner tonight.

HOW do you make the little rascals clean up???

This was the subject of many years of my careful research. I scoured homeschooling stores and dumped piles of regular dollars in exchange for a few cheaply printed “Mom Dollars” linked to “rewards that all children love,” believing the promise that THIS TIME, they will clean up.

It all failed.

In fact, sensing an inner weakness with their sixth sense (the one only accessible to children), one child purposely hid random items all over the house because “It was easier than putting it away,” she confessed, eyes downcast.

They are purposely trying to wear you down.

Don’t let them.

I printed this small quip that my brain construed one random Wednesday evening. And the sign stuck. And it worked. Voila!

For the price of – well, nothing, really – you can make your Grade 4 student practice their cursive and you’re got a sign too! But here it is – the magic formula…. Drum roll, please…

A touch of brilliance if I may say so, however immodestly. No eating until there is enough tidying that at least one clean bowl surfaces. AND since they EAT, and since the sign is staring you in the face AS you serve the food, you remember to enforce this new “homeschooling rule,” so Voila! Magic!

Notice the algebraic ORDER of things. FIRST clean up. THEN face stuffing.

The homeschool magic key unlocking every child’s inner Mr. Clean has arrived! You don’t eat until you’ve dumped a dozen or so shovelfuls of horse manure outside.

That would be if you were a farmer.

In our case, it is partially used math supplies and dirty cups with unfinished, carefully measured daily water allocation goals for each child. But you get the point.

And yes, I am aware that the phrasing implies that we are knee-deep in moldy, forgotten science experiments and half-finished math pages strewn about when it says “Clean up the place.” Duh – we are.

Also, I am aware that the words “stuff your face” don’t exactly imply dinner manners appropriate for Ms. Lovelybottom’s approval (I’ll explain her someday too since I have already told you other embarrassing stuff and you still like me).

The point is, the cleanup gets done. I can sit at the table with my feet up, sip a lemonade, watch them work, and realize that actually, I am doing a good job. Everyone is happy. Even, and especially, me.

For a few minutes at least.

But who’s counting?

And if it takes a ridiculous sign to make it through another week, another year? Well, print away, dear homeschooling parent.

So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop . . . The Message

We take a little homeschool bliss where we can get it.

At least we’ve got our priorities in the right order.

A clean house is overrated, anyway.

God Is Handing Out Destinies – Do You Want Yours? (Part 2)

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

I was frantically searching through a box of clothes, trying to find myself. Would I wear this outfit more often, the career woman’s attire? This outfit with spit up still on the shoulder, to volunteer more frequently in the children’s ministry? My lounge pants to relax and enjoy an afternoon martini a bit more regularly (OK NO – I don’t drink martinis. But don’t you want to be the kind of person who does, sometimes?)

All of the outfits were too tight or were ripped and unusable. I even bought martini supplies and then returned them to the thrift store a couple of years later (True story! My inner James Bond didn’t emerge, disappointingly). The point? Ah yes, the point. Who am I becoming, and what is new, in this next season? A mentor suggested that I ask God this very question.

“God, how do You see me,” I asked. He showed me a picture of me in my daughter’s red gown, dancing again, free. Huh? I didn’t get it. The following week, my daughter wore that red gown when she was chosen as the Princess of the city, a City Ambassador.

This was the exact same title that I was given 30 years earlier. She was asked an impromptu question and the question was about… me! She had the same sponsor as.. me! There were several other coincidences. I brushed off the co-incidences though many people remarked about them.

God often speaks through co-incidences. “Could He be speaking here?” I asked a mentor. When she spoke, tears ran down my cheeks. She spoke of freedom, a belief in the possibilities over my future that I once had as a youth, that had been lost. She spoke of the freedom that I felt when I wore the red gown for a few minutes, remembering that anything is possible with a God who has dreams for all of us, even us – ahem – older ones – for all of us, even, yes for me.

I am older, yes, but if my heart is beating, then God has a vision for me that is stretched out so far into the horizon that I can’t see its effects. That is His way. Will I reach forward in faith, a blind person with arms stretched out in front to block obstacles? Will I let Him guide my arm because I can’t see what lies ahead?

Will I trust Him, to teach me to dance, with Him? Will I throw away the old rags of fear and complacency that I was wearing? Will I humbly bow before a God who asks me to stand, hold the scepter, and declare “Your Kingdom Come”? Will I step into the Princess robe? Will you?

Wake up, wake up! Pull on your boots . . .! Dress up in your Sunday best . . .! . . . Brush off the dust and get to your feet . . .! Throw off your chains, captive daughter . . . The Message

Lord, please take off the eye patches covering our eyes that make us unable to see the bright future You have planned for every one of us. Help us to believe, that just as you used stumbling clods throughout all of history, You can use us, too. Let us take our eyes off the filthy rags we have made for our own clothing, and have the courage to touch the silk gowns of promise that You hold before us, as we align our lives with Your purposes.

After a few minutes of thanksgiving, ask God “How do You see me?”

God is Handing Out Destinies – Do You Want Yours? (Part 1)

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

When no one was looking – and shhh! Don’t tell anyone! – I closed the door to my bedroom and put on the dress. No, not my dress. My daughter’s dress. And yes, the red ball gown. I couldn’t leave it on the hanger. It was calling, calling to me. Wear me! Put me on! Dance in me! And so I obeyed it. The gown and I were friends already.

I swayed to and fro watching the material billow on either side. Then I twirled and “snap!” My husband took a picture of me. I laughed and continued dancing. I was a young girl again. Possibilities were endless. Who would I become?

A few minutes later, it was time to return the dress to the hanger. To give it back to its rightful owner: the one with a future stretched out so far in front of her, the horizon is still a blur. Don’t they give scholarships and opportunities to the youth?

Aren’t “they” searching for youth to raise up, to hold their hand on the giant escalator roaring into the sky? “There are opportunities for you”, the dress reminds. “Who you are is much more beautiful than what you recognize in yourself on an ordinary day”, the dress said to her.

So I went back to the dishes. To the laundry. To scrub the floor. (Wait – I never scrub my floor but don’t ruin the effect).

I surrendered my identity, the identity that God was whispering to me to remember when I took off the dress. “Gracefully surrendering the things of youth,” I thought stoically. I am mature now. Time to pass on the torch to stronger runners, to those without back pain.

Maybe it’s time for me to get out the TV and to stare numbly for the next few decades (Wait – I don’t have a TV either, but again… keep the mood!).

The point is, who am I? Am I the young girl, dancing in freedom, wondering what new doors of opportunity will open for me tomorrow? Am I catching hopes and dreams wherever I wander, storing them in a basket that I carry with me, overfilling with possibilities?

Or am I me? The has been, has gone. I had my opportunities. Am I the flower, wilted, with a bit of brown at the edges? Am I a cactus? Come too close to me with a balloon of freedom and I will pop it? Am I living in a box when God wants me to be free? Are you?

“Who knows? Maybe you were made queen for just such a time as this.” The Message

Lord, help us to stop groveling on the ground like common beggars. Help us to stand, while leaning on Your strength. Wash us in your love. Help us to have the courage to take hold of the royal robes that You hold out to us. Let us never live in the lie, that just because we are beggars, we aren’t also daughters and sons of the King. Thank You for adopting us into Your love. May we run free into our destinies, we pray.

After a few minutes of thanksgiving, ask God “What blinders am I wearing, so I am unable to see the next thing You are showing me?”

Even Homeschooling Moms Can Enjoy Christmas!

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments
Photo Credit: How the Grinch Stole Christmas! by Dr. Seuss

I looked down at my feet, and instead of my slippers, I wore large red elf shoes. When I looked up at my legs, they were in a strange green suit. My expression was a constant frown. Ah! I had become the Christmas Grinch!

I frantically tried to take off the suit, shoes, and hat, but as hard as I fought myself, I couldn’t remove the attire. I slouched in my chair, despondent. I had to face the facts: I was not looking forward to Christmas.

Maybe it was the little things piling up that had rendered me here on the couch, immobile. I found myself seeking a particular type of shirt at a thrift store for my daughter for her Christmas concert (tomorrow). My other daughter “needed” to attend a Christmas wreath-making event. I found myself shivering in the car outside, adapting technology to my car for my zoom meeting. How had I agreed to this?

Who decided there are expectations to bake Christmas cookies? We are all too fat anyway, or viciously battling the bulge. Indulgence is good but stressing out to indulge seems counter-productive if we’re honest. And waiting until January to slow down on unhealthy binge eating doesn’t seem like the best plan.

Add the anticipation of a stressful car ride on winter roads to visit relatives, and I have somehow lost my holiday happiness. However, their eyes look up at us Moms in expectation of an excellent Christmas. And how are you doing, Mom?

So I set aside the Christmas bustle and found a quiet place to sit for a moment. I lifted up my smelly attitude and asked for a Christmas gift exchange with you, Jesus. Would You please give me your joy in exchange?

And in the quiet of my heart that morning, though my prayer was focused on me, he reminded me of the other. Phone her. Her health issues have intensified.

The Lord asked me to call Mary because in his wisdom he knew that I needed her, not vice versa.

Mary said, “I know that if I throw a pity party for myself, I am not going anywhere. So I chose joy this morning and I have been so full of the joy of the Lord, it is amazing.”

She rattled off scripture, a big jumble, not unlike another Mary, the mother of Jesus did over 2,000 years ago.

And Mary [pregnant with baby Jesus] said, “I’m bursting with God-news; I’m dancing the song of my Savior God.” The Message

Two Marys have made room in their hearts for the baby Jesus, within the sufferings of both the stable and of health issues. And His kingdom came.

Wearing this Grinch suit is a choice, I suddenly realize as I hang it back up. And so how do we genuinely enjoy Christmas?

I have been learning to open my spiritual senses to listen to and see Jesus this Christmas. We’ll discuss ways to extend these spiritual senses in the next post.

For now, bring your eggnog and come sit here, friend, next to me. Let’s share this warm blanket by the fire. The great comforter is coming soon! How have you been getting your room ready for Him this Christmas?