What do I dislike most about homeschooling?
I am around my kids almost all the time.
What do I like best about it?
I am around my kids almost all the time.
My kids are asking questions at 10 am, all in my business at noon, and just starting their second wind at 3:30. They expect my attention any moment they need me, they are full of energy and curiosity and need.
Sometimes I get flustered with this fire hose of CHILD pointed at my face, but that fire hose is what saves my life.
Because being needed and responding with love to needs makes my heart bigger. And bigger and bigger and bigger.
But you don’t have to be a parent to taste this kind of enlarging. In an interview about her work, Ann Patchett talked about caring for her grandmother: “The trick of it is to love them for who they are that day.”
When I am with my loved ones, and we are moving through our days with tantrums and immaturity and demands and everything, I practice being present with who they are, even when they are frustrating and whiny and immature.
I am affirming that they are worth caring for, and loving, and giving patient responses to. Because of who they are.
Beloved. Mine. Precious. Dear.
Often, my broken responses remind that I too am whiny and impatient and too easy to anger. But caregiving reminds me that regardless, I am worth caring for, too. That I can expect patience and love from God. That he loves me who I am that day, even if I’m broken. Because of who I am.
Beloved. His. Precious. Dear.
Caregiving is all about saying, “I am beloved. And so are you.”
Like housework and art, caregiving is not about doing things perfectly. It’s about showing up. Every moment is another chance to show love. Every moment is a chance to grow and improve and open up my heart to my kids.
Getting used to being needed so terribly has cracked my heart open to God.
When I respond with grace to the tenth inane question in two minutes I feel more confident asking Jesus questions ad infinitum. When I still long to have my child sit in my lap for a hug after she’s punched me in the stomach I sense that God probably can handle my tantrums too. When I see my kids forgive me for my anger or impatience or rage, I am reminded of how Jesus gathered children in his arms. When I see their delight in orb spiders or pale pink rocks or a tooth they found in the backyard, I am reminded that I can have that kind of awe for God’s creation, too.
There is incredible honor in caring for precious persons. There is honor in showing up for the hard work of cleaning bottoms and waking up at night. There is honor in guiding a scared child back to bed or nursing a screaming infant. There is holiness in wiping away tears.
Oh, I am reminded of who God is when I care for people. And I am reminded who I am, too.
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