A wise person I know once said, “You need to know why you’re homeschooling, or you won’t last long.” I’ve thought about that several times over the past eleven years. In our early homeschool days, I thought I knew. Our girls were relatively easy to teach, eager to learn, and were both above average students. The hardest part was never the schooling; it was the heart issues, the power struggles, the sin. I thought I had it figured out for the most part. But after year seven, we took a road trip to South Dakota and it was then that I realized I had no idea what I was doing or why.
I sat holding Zeke in the backseat of my car as the sun was setting outside and the light was waning in the garage. It was quiet, aside from his heavy sighs as the tears fell down his cheeks onto my jacket. His sadness was a mixture of things too complicated for him to possibly understand and things so common to all of us. He was brave all day at school – his last day at school – and now he could just be. I crawled into his seat with him and held him as he cried. Telling him tears are ok. Being sad is ok. He could feel all the hurt of saying goodbye to his teacher and his friends, and I could feel it too. And I wished, once again I wished it could be different for him. That everything could be easier. That he could be just like the other kids. Typical, without so many struggles and needs.