Tag Archives: anger

To thrive again at home

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boys. sand. K'nex and Lego. July 2009

It’s been a long time since I’ve written about how our home schooling has been progressing and it’s not for lack of want or what to say. I’ve lots to say, it’s just that most of it would be rants and complains and much whining. Who wants to read the blog of an angry home schooling mom?

For the past several years, teaching hasn’t made for a happy home life, especially when it comes to instructing my boys. I’ve been reduced to yelling, threatening, and pleading with them to do a math paper or reading lesson. That’s a difficult confession to admit, but it’s part of our story, and I will not edit out my mistakes to make me appear like I have this home school mom gig figured out.

Needless to say, when it comes to a traditional school work approach with pencil and paper, it’s been an unhappy home, with unhappy kids, and unhappy mom. An unhappy home school.

But I’m a fighter. I’m not giving up home schooling.

If I didn’t believe in the importance of keeping my kids home with me, I would’ve put them in public school years ago. This stubbornness must be part God-given determination to succeed, part Irish heritage. The freedom to do as we want, when we want, with no one outside our family influencing our schedule is a lifestyle I will not let go. These four belong home with me. We are a home schooling family. As imperfect as we are, we were created to be together, so together we will stay.

But change must come.

At this moment in our home schooling journey, I don’t have the hearts of my children. The list of subjects to have conquered at the end of the day became more important than love, joy, gentleness and patience.  We started on a good path, but I got distracted by less important things like reading by a certain age and math facts. The point of home schooling is not about the college they attend or the career they chose or if they make a lot of money. Success means my children chose to walk in The Way, with Jesus Christ and in relationship with Him. Knowing Jesus has nothing to do with multiplication tables.

When I first started this journey five years ago, I never imagined home schooling would force me to deal with my own sins.

For our survival as a home schooling family, to thrive again as we once did, my approach to teaching must change. I’m forced to find a new way, one that is a better fit with the personality of my kids.

Change. Specifically, someone must change. Lord knows, I’ve tried changing all the little people around here. Lucky me. I best do the changing.

So.

I’ve been reading, searching the Internet, asking the Lord for answers and guidance. We are told to pray about everything and to ask the Lord for wisdom. I believe He is answering. I’ve found like-minded folks here on the Web that are inspiring me to rethink everything I thought before about how to home educate. Thanks be to God, it’s not too late to change hearts and correct course.

More to come: how I’m being led, what works and what doesn’t and why, and how it’s radically going to change my approach to this home schooling life.  Stay tuned.

A mama lion silent: 5 Minutes for Mom blog spotlight

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Paper Bridges is featured at 5 Minutes for Mom this week. My post is about mama-lion anger and the ability to keep the strongest muscle in the body – the tongue – under control with God’s power. I hope you like it, and more importantly, I pray it helps you remember Phil. 4:13. “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.”

The Billy Martin in me

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Update: Mission accomplished. That wasn’t so hard.

There is this woman at church. She’s tall. Taller than I am- and that’s something, cause I’m no slouch at 5’9″. She has blond hair. And I’ve got to apologize to her.

It’s a good story I could spin with lots of soap opera like drama. But it doesn’t matter. She provoked me. And I reacted like that old Yankee manager Billy Martin when he disagreed with an umpire. When Martin got a call he didn’t like, he would unleash, get right in the umps face with his anger, kicking dirt in protest. If we had dirt at church, instead of plush carpeting, I would’ve kicked it. If I had been wearing a cap that Christmas Eve two years ago, I would’ve thrown it too. Just like Martin used to do.

So I’ve got to extend this olive branch of peace. Every time I see her in the sanctuary, or standing around during the coffee hour, I feel that nudge. Go over there. Say I’m sorry. Part of me wishes she would apologize to me. I suspect she’s not bothered about it at all.

Then there’s communion. I hold gently the tiny, plastic cup of red juice. Careful with the broken bit of cracker. I try to concentrate on Jesus and what he did and who he is and how his sacrifice is forever life changing. But all I can think of is her, sitting a few rows behind me. I’m not holy at all.

See what happens when you let your anger rule over better sense and judgment ? I hate being wrong, but this is a painful humbling. I told my CBS core leader about it, joking that I should just write her a letter. She thinks it’s a great idea. But can I do it? How can I not do it? Why do I have to be so stubbborn?