The First Day

It’s happening right now.

The children I have homeschooled basically their whole lives started their first day of public school today. (Dia starts September 3.)

This August, our home stretch, has been mostly normal. We made time for the library, swimming, and a day trip exploring the northeast corner of Oregon along the Hells Canyon Scenic Byway.

We had the usual temper tantrums, pestering, and refusing to clean rooms mixed with marvelous times of painting, drawing, molding, baking, and reading.

Oh yes, the reading. After our library hauls, our robotic pattern would set in. Bodies and books strewn about the living room or on the hammocks under our walnut tree. Everyone immersed in distant lands. Occasionally, someone piping up to share a funny quote or interesting piece of info. The only nuisances were beverages being out of reach or the summer breeze turning pages too soon.

The kids also had time to become founders of countries, creators of board games, Pokemon-card pawn shop owners, and tug-of-war opponents in the never-ending argument of who is the dog’s favorite. (Noelle may have served as a physical rope at times.)

There have also been the pensive, deep moments where they’ve wanted to analyze progressive sanctification, the application of Jesus’ parables, and my miscarriage before Dia.

All three not ashamed of asking questions, finding the Creator in the mess of the creation.

The kingdom of God is near.

***

He’s almost 11. Carter’s blue eyes seem to be molded marbles of sodalite. (We collect rocks, people.) Even during his times of anxiousness, his eyes tell a very different calming story. The contrast is boggling. He should look at the mirror more often. It would serve as self-therapy.

He still lets me sit close to him. Like my-head-on-his-shoulder close.

Until a few days ago, I never really noticed the increasing conquest of freckles on his arms. I gushed at the similarity to his dad. He shrugged at my making a big deal … and allowed me to continue my tapping of each one.

The world is still very black and white for him, and I pray for him to understand what freedom in Christ looks and feels like especially when he is drawn to the false safety of legalism. The world has been duped by the loud “us” vs. “them” battles that are rampant and lazy today. The real war wages on in our hearts.

Or, in regard to Luke 6:43-45: “BOY, what are you planting?!”

Be washed in — drown in — your standing.

Child of God.
Co-heir with Christ.
More than a conqueror.

***

He is seven. Cade has a May birthday, so that makes him one of the youngest in his class. He is bright, a natural engineer. He never takes data and resources at face value but always dissects and turns things upside down.

Oh, he will make friends. Probably too many.

While big brother finds comfort in schedules, routine, and lists, little brother fights them. On good days, he will just ignore them.

Always against the grain. Endlessly defending the gray areas of life.

He is the most compassionate out of our three. (He’s still a serial hugger.) There is no doubt God will use him in areas that seem too weird or dangerous to some. I will not be worried — just concerned that he didn’t pack well enough for the journey.

The art of focus. Tie up the loose ends. God, give him balance.

***

She will be five the Sunday before Thanksgiving this year. Dia still holds true to her early moniker: “Doe Eyes the Fierce.”

She has sit downs with her brothers to disperse her own wisdom; she’s just not that open to hear it coming her way. Nuggets of truth work better. Make it like candy for her.

Dia prefers “girl songs.” During one quiet ride a few weeks ago, “Revelation Song” by Kari Jobe was on the radio. She was soaking it in and said, “Mommy, I really like this song.” I had to run inside the church to grab something, but she asked to stay in the car because she didn’t want to miss the rest of the song. When I came back in, the song wrapped up and Dia said, “Mommy, I can sing that song forever.”

Oh girl, you will. In heaven, you will.

She will continue with speech and gymnastics this fall. She’s getting bolder in both. God, all the risks that come with our words and bodies! Let her be open to Your refining early.

***

So, here I am wondering why the clock is moving so slow.

When we walked them into school and down the hallway, yes, my eyes welled up. For like, nine seconds. I tried to absorb the glassiness back into my eyes with all my human might. All of these smiling people, and I’m trying to block out the fact that I won’t be engaging this ever changing world with my kids during the day anymore.

World War II.
Personal essays on childhood memories.
Prepositional phrases.
Common denominators.

Can we just stop and draw out one more butterfly life cycle?!

I’ll have to stuff it into the fleeting time that is already jammed pack for most families in the evenings. Whatever.

Cade stoically found his seat and asked his teacher where to put his backpack. Before we knew it, Carter had already turned the corner and bound up the stairs to his class. Then we left.

Right now, Clint is meeting someone for coffee. Dia is playing with Moon Sand and patiently waiting to meet her teacher and see her new classroom later today. I will continue reading in the book of Numbers, but I will need a psalm for sure.

And, I will also write because the more I write, the better writer I will become. (That’s from Ruth Soukup, not me.)

But, most importantly, this — writing — is what I was molded and prepared to do. May it always be authentic (even if it’s embarrassing or too raw) and bring glory to Him.

And now excuse me as I play “God of Wonders” on repeat for the rest of the morning.