Happy Sculpting!

A new school year brings high hopes, doesn’t it? I don’t know about you, but I have been known to become positively giddy in a school supply aisle. Something about notebooks full of clean, blank sheets of paper, new pencils that haven’t even been sharpened yet, and boxes of brand new books does something wonderful for this homeschool mom. Who needs January when we all know the New Year really begins in August?

The homeschooling lifestyle has many wonderful benefits, not the least of which is getting to know these unique gifts God has given us . . .

“Behold, children are a gift of the Lord; the fruit of the womb is a reward.” Ps. 127:3

As C.S. Lewis said, “It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ‘ordinary’ people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.”

You’ve seen books with titles like, Children are Wet Cement. They propound the idea that our children come to us like blobs of playdough, ready to be molded and shaped like the objects of some baby shower game. The frightening truth, of course, is that they *are* extremely impressionable, and words we use may make indelible imprints.

But I’m afraid if we think our children are just unmolded blobs we can do whatever we like with, we’ll find ourselves extremely frustrated, discouraged, and exhausted.

I’d like to posit that our children are more like blocks of marble. And not just because they’re sometimes hardheaded. Prov. 22:6 is familiar to many of us. It reads, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” I have eight children, from one to eighteen. Amazingly, while having the same genes and being raised in the same home by the same parents, they’re all incredibly different. This weekend we dropped our eldest off at college. My husband and I had parcelled the other children out to friends and spent the night several hours away in my son’s new town, “to celebrate,” as my husband put it. As we reflected that night on the experience, I talked to him about how I felt we’d handed off our “upbringing” responsibility in some way to the college. He reminded me of a video we’d seen where the actors portrayed a Christian being worked on by God, Who chiseled away at him, shaping him as He saw fit. “It’s like we’ve handed off the chisel,” he said. And that felt sooo true.

Michelangelo said, “Every block of stone has a statue inside, and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”

Raising our kids is like being entrusted with a marvelous piece of marble. It’s our job to carefully, prayerfully chip away at the parts that don’t truly belong to the sculpture–the parts that take away from the image God wants to bring forth. We must be careful not to chip away aimlessly, to strike in anger, or to just hack away at the parts that we don’t like or understand. God made that piece of marble in your living room, mom. He knows what He wants it to look like. It’s our responsibility and privilege to ask Him what His vision for our children is. And then we must listen. And then, if you’re as impatient, imperfect, and likely to mess up as I am, you might want to ask God to hold your hand and aim every strike.

When choosing marble, very rarely did sculptors use pure white stone, because that made it difficult to see the gentle curves of muscle. Another factor considered was the fineness or coarseness of the marble crystals. Fine textures allowed lots of detail, but left the sculpture a bit on the dull side, while coarse, large-textured marble was harder to work with but would have a brilliant sheen when finished. The marble itself contributed to the creativity of the artist and developed the artist’s style, since each type offered possibilities that the artist would learn to master once becoming accustomed to working with it.

Sound familiar?

Of course, our kids probably won’t look like David at eighteen. I’m pretty certain someone will turn my son to the side sometime soon and say, “Woah! Look at that big unformed hunk there–that needs some work!” because I’m imperfect and don’t even own every desirable tool. That’s why he has many more years ahead of him with the Lord, Who will use others to finish what we began.

But I can make sure I give them a good start. I can be faithful to pray and seek God’s will and do what He tells me, to speak purpose into the lives of my children and encourage them to put themselves under His discipline and correction. And so can you!

God is the ultimate sculptor. We just get to help out as His hands and mouth for a few years.

Ephesians 2:10 says, “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”

I encourage you to get to know the wonderful gifts God has given you. Ask Him what He wants to develop in them–and you!–this school year. And let that bring you joy and perseverance as you walk through another year of sculpting.

Misty Krasawski is the overly-blessed mom of eight children whom she homeschools in sunshine-y Florida. She has been clinging ferociously to the hand of her Lord since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, homeschooling for the past thirteen years, and has eighteen more years ahead of her with the children who are glad she will have done most of her experimenting on those who went before. Her wonderful husband Rob has much treasure laid up for him in heaven for having been called to such a daunting task. After the house goes to sleep she can sometimes be found gathering her thoughts at http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/MistyKrasawski.

Busy Day Recipes

There is a phrase that is capable of striking fear, terror, and sometimes even annoyance into the heart of every homeschool mom. It may be uttered by your children, your husband, or perhaps even an innocent little ad on television. While not packing quite the same punch from June-late August as it does during the school year, it still has a power not to be underestimated, but to prepare for . . .

“HEY, MOM!! WHAT’S FOR DINNER???”

At my house, the answers can range from “I don’t know, what were you planning to make?” on a bad day, to “Look at the list on the fridge!” on a good one. I thought it might be similar at your house, so I had to share a couple of recipes with you which will give you a jump start on the answer next time you hear it!

Simple Ribs

  • 3-4 lbs boneless ribs
  • 1 bottle barbecue sauce
  • 1/2 jar apricot or peach jam

**Tip: use a crockpot liner for supreme ease!*
Put ribs in crockpot. Pour half of the bottle of sauce into a bowl. Add jam and stir, then pour over ribs. Cook on low 6-8 hrs. Add remaining 1/2 bottle to crockpot to thicken sauce. Serve over rice.

and now for a simple chicken recipe…

Simply Scrumptious Orange Chicken

  • 2 lbs chicken breast sliced in 1 inch-wide strips of any length
  • orange juice to cover chicken (2 cups or so)
  • 1 egg
  • 2 cps Italian bread crumbs
  • 1 stick butter

Place chicken strips in bowl and pour juice over the top. Leave in fridge to marinate for a few hours or all day. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place 1 stick of butter in 13×9 pan and put in oven to melt while preheating. Take chicken strips out of juice and set aside. Add egg to juice in bowl, and blend with a fork. Pour bread crumbs onto a plate. Take melted butter pan out of oven. Dip strips in egg/juice mixture and roll in bread crumbs. Lay coated chicken strips into melted butter in pan, turning to moisten both sides. Bake for about 35-40 minutes.

Hope this makes dinner planning a little easier for you this week!

Misty Krasawski is the overly-blessed mom of eight children whom she homeschools in sunshine-y Florida. She has been clinging ferociously to the hand of her Lord since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, homeschooling for the past thirteen years, and has eighteen more years ahead of her with the children who are glad she will have done most of her experimenting on those who went before. Her wonderful husband Rob has much treasure laid up for him in heaven for having been called to such a daunting task. After the house goes to sleep she can sometimes be found gathering her thoughts at http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/MistyKrasawski.

Summer? Or Not?

Ahhh . . . June! The time when a young woman’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love, and a homeschool mom’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of something even better–SUMMER!

Our own school year has been constructed in a myriad of forms over the past 13 years. When the children were younger, we did school year-round. They hadn’t yet realized that there were other kids who were free of lessons during the middle of the year, and since we lived in Texas and, later, Florida, I found that I’d rather take time off when the weather was a bit more pleasant. We had simpler weeks and often incorporated playdates and field trips into our “school time.” As they got older, of course, and wise to the public school schedule, we found that conforming a little wasn’t so bad. Having a summer break when everyone else does means that church camps and VBS are more easily assimilated into what we’re doing (or not doing!) already, and lets my kids take part in activities with their friends.

But there’s a benefit in it for me, too, I’ve found over many years of trial and error. I think sometimes we forget (or become less aware of the fact) that homeschooling takes a lot out of us as homeschool moms. We love our kids and we love having them at home; we love to read to them and see the little light bulbs come on in their brains. We love the sight of handwriting samples on the fridge and completed math papers on the dining room table. Sometimes even the sight of well-loved books scattered about the living room can make us smile.

. . . And then comes, oh, say, February. The month to strike the heart of even the most steadfast homeschool mom cold with fear. There’s a reason we need to be reminded of love in February; the reason is that often we are burned out, and for those who live a bit further north of the equator than I, frozen out of the excitement we started with back in August/September. We tend to feel badly about the way we feel in February, like we’re looking back from the proverbial plough or something. However, I think we need to realize something: God has given us seasons for a reason. As the wisest man until Jesus once said, “There is an appointed time for everything…A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.” Ecc. 3:1-2.

We have spent the school year planting, and perhaps have even seen some growth and even a few little harvests. Of course we don’t want summer to be the time we uproot everything that’s been planted in their little brains as far as learning goes, and that’s why summer will find our family still reading, studying the Bible together, and maybe even learning when no one realizes we’re doing it–on a vacation, or at the beach–shhh! But one thing we probably won’t do is sit down in our usual spots with workbooks and pencils, checking off another box of completed work. Because I’ve learned that we all need summer. We all need to know there’s a season when the normal routine changes. We need to shake some cobwebs out of our heads and give ourselves a chance to freshen up a bit. You know how they say your body grows and heals during sleep? I like to think of summer as a bit of sleep for our student/teacher brains. I truly believe (because I’ve seen it over and over in my own home!) that to take a break is to invite refreshing. To invite refreshing is to invite new growth!

Truly, summer can be a time to “tear up what is planted.” We don’t want our children to lose all the academic things we’ve planted in their brains, of course. We want those to grow. Over the school year, though, I find that while learning is always taking place, there are often also habits and tendencies that have taken root and need to be “torn up.” I often feel unable to deal with those character issues while facing a long list of academic areas that need to be finished. During the summer, we’ll focus on things like making our beds every morning and brushing our teeth after meals, speaking more kindly to our brothers and sisters and praying through God’s plans for our lives. We’ll sort through our clothes and get our books organized in better ways. Summer is a time for decluttering and re-arranging, for evaluating what worked and what didn’t during our school year. It’s a time to pick blueberries and eat watermelon and jump in the pool and PLAY…and that means mom, too!

So I encourage you, ask God what He wants to do with your family this summer. And don’t be surprised if He tells you to put away your workbooks, and go have some fun! You’ll be so glad you did when August rolls around!

Misty Krasawski is the overly-blessed mom of eight children whom she homeschools in sunshine-y Florida. She has been clinging ferociously to the hand of her Lord since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, homeschooling for the past thirteen years, and has eighteen more years ahead of her with the children who are glad she will have done most of her experimenting on those who went before. Her wonderful husband Rob has much treasure laid up for him in heaven for having been called to such a daunting task. After the house goes to sleep she can sometimes be found gathering her thoughts at http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/MistyKrasawski.

The Consistency Myth

There are as many opinions out there about how to manage a family as there are families. And a large percentage of them have been codified into full-fledged methods, philosophies, and books. As a new mom with a helpless baby in her arms and a heart full of hope, I felt absolutely petrified that I was going to do something wrong. I knew that the writer of Ecclesiastes had warned, “But beyond this . . . be warned: the writing of many books is endless, and excessive devotion to books is wearying to the body.” Ecc. 12:12 .

But I wanted what every new mom wants . . . to be the perfect mom for my perfect new baby.


And so I read everything I could get my hands on. I tossed the philosophies that didn’t ring with what I knew in my heart, and the ones that seemed to contradict Scripture–that was easy. More difficult was knowing what to do with the ones that made so much sense and claimed to be God-inspired . . . and contradicted the others making the same claim. I’m sure I’m not alone in my quest for the perfect child-raising method.

And you know as well as I that there’s one buzzword amidst all the theories out there–one that even the secular world holds up as the Holy Grail of parenting: CONSISTENCY.

We’ve heard it over and over. We know we should respond the same way to every child every time they behave in a particular manner . . . make a chart for it, even, because, after all, who can remember the different scenarios they’ve set up for every infraction? If you have a chart, you can go look and see what happens next–not making the bed = missing morning snack time. Not finishing math homework = no TV. Hitting a sibling = one swat.

If we’re just consistent, our kids will obey. Makes sense, right? And yet, most of us find ourselves lamenting as we fail at it over and over.

I was talking the other day with a friend about the time Jesus was in the temple and pulled out a whip. What a surprise that must have been! Apparently, He was fed up with what He was seeing happen in His Father’s house. And that’s when it struck me . . . He’d been there before. This wasn’t the first time He’d been in the synagogue, and surely those moneychangers hadn’t set up for the first time that very morning. So why was His reaction to their presence so different on this day?

I don’t know. He does, of course, but His reasoning isn’t enumerated for us here in the 2nd chapter of John.

So here’s the thing: I figure that if Jesus acted differently one day than He did on other days, perhaps it’s okay when I do, too. Perhaps God understands my reactions being different on different occasions because He knows that sometimes my kids need mercy, and sometimes they need to pay the piper. Some days a sassy response may require a quick rebuke, and sometimes circumstances may warrant a little bit of grace. Because when I think back over the ways the Lord has dealt with me, I don’t see the exact same response given to my every action every time.

Now, I’m not trying to say our kids should find us to be crazy women from whom they never know what to expect. But I am trying to say that we shouldn’t feel ourselves locked into one method or ideology of parenting, because we need to be sensitive to God’s Spirit and timing as we parent our children. Also, on a less spiritual-sounding level, because we need to realize we are human beings, and so are our children. And humans are just flat out NOT consistently consistent.

Misty Krasawski is the overly-blessed mom of eight children whom she homeschools in sunshine-y Florida. She has been clinging ferociously to the hand of her Lord since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, homeschooling for the past thirteen years, and has eighteen more years ahead of her with the children who are glad she will have done most of her experimenting on those who went before. Her wonderful husband Rob has much treasure laid up for him in heaven for having been called to such a daunting task. After the house goes to sleep she can sometimes be found gathering her thoughts at http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/MistyKrasawski.

1 Corinthians 13 for Homeschool Moms

If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and teach my children Latin conjugations, Chinese and Portuguese, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal, and no matter what I say, they will not hear me.

If I have the gift of prophecy, and know my children’s bents and God’s plan for their lives, and know all mysteries and all knowledge, and am the keeper of the teacher’s editions and solutions manuals, and if I have all faith, so as to move mountains, and even keep up with my giant piles of laundry and dishes, but do not have love, I am nothing, even if all the people at church think I’m Supermom.

And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and my formal dining room gets turned into a schoolroom and our family vacations look more like educational fieldtrips, and if I surrender my body to be burned, never having time to get my nails done, put makeup on or even take a bath, but do not have love, it profits me nothing, because all my family cares about is the expression on my face, anyway.

Love is patient with the child who still can’t get double-digit subtraction with borrowing, and kind to the one who hasn’t turned in his research paper. It is not jealous of moms with more, fewer, neater, more self-directed, better-behaved or smarter children. Love does not brag about homemade bread, book lists, or scholarships and is not arrogant about her lifestyle or curriculum choices. It does not act unbecomingly or correct the children in front of their friends. It does not seek its own, trying to squeeze in alone time when someone still needs help; it is not provoked when interrupted for the nineteenth time by a child, the phone, the doorbell or the dog; does not take into account a wrong suffered, even when no one compliments the dinner that took hours to make or the house that took so long to clean.

Love does not rejoice in unrighteousness or pointing out everyone else’s flaws, but rejoices with the truth and with every small step her children take in becoming more like Jesus, knowing it’s only by the grace of God when that occurs.

Love bears all things even while running on no sleep; believes all things, especially God’s promise to indwell and empower her; hopes all things, such as that she’ll actually complete the English curriculum this year and the kids will eventually graduate; endures all things, even questioning from strangers, worried relatives, and most of all, herself.

Love never fails. And neither will she. As long as she never, never, never gives up.

Misty Krasawski is the overly-blessed mom of eight children whom she homeschools in sunshine-y Florida. She has been clinging ferociously to the hand of her Lord since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, homeschooling for the past thirteen years, and has eighteen more years ahead of her with the children who are glad she will have done most of her experimenting on those who went before. Her wonderful husband Rob has much treasure laid up for him in heaven for having been called to such a daunting task. After the house goes to sleep she can sometimes be found gathering her thoughts at http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/MistyKrasawski.

Preparations

The debate about Christmas and how it should properly be celebrated has been going on for centuries, and probably will continue until He comes the second time. In my house, well, we love it all. Lisa Whelchel’s book, The ADVENTure of Christmas, is a favorite here in December, listing just about every Christmas trapping you can imagine and giving the history of each to demonstrate how they can be reminders of the real reason we celebrate.

The truth is that God came into the world in bodily form–the most amazing occurrence in history–and it calls for serious celebration, even from those who don’t recognize His lordship, authority or anything else about Him. The frenzy that surrounds the 25th of December is truly a testimony to the world’s longing for the arrival of Jesus, whether they know it or not! I think it’s a testimony, too, of the Christian’s desire for Jesus; an expression of our joy that He did come, that He will come, and that He continues to come in our lives on a daily basis.

I don’t know about you, but for me, this Christmas season had some very exhausting moments.


We started strong . . . put up the tree joyfully, baked cookies with glee, shopped for presents with a list and a smile. Sometime about mid-December, though, I started to notice a tiredness creeping over me . . . a becoming-all-too-familiar weariness that seemed to center on a nagging feeling that it all depended on me, and that were I to stop for even a moment, all of Christmas–for my family, anyway, would grind to a halt. “It came without ribbons . . . it came without tags . . . it came without packages, boxes or bags” sounds great on a cartoon, but is quite another sentiment in real life.

Perhaps I’m wrong, but somehow I can’t help but fear that if my family were to wake on Christmas morning to a house devoid of presents, and tree, with no cinnamon rolls or scrambled egg casserole, and nothing but bits of wire on the walls, the last thing I’d find them doing is heading down to the town square to hold hands with the neighbors and sing “da hoo dorays.”

Being stressed about Christmas isn’t a very nice addition to the pile of laundry, dirty cookie sheets and unwrapped presents. We’re not supposed to be stressed, but someone forgot to notify our nerves. Anyway, one day when I was lamenting over this lovely addition, I heard a curious thing . . . a voice I’d been missing for a little while. It was the Voice I love above all others, the Voice in danger of being drowned out by all the oven timers, TV specials and cash registers (the passing out of angel wings notwithstanding.) And He was whispering to me a verse I had never really thought much about . . .

“I go to prepare a place for you.”~John 14:3

Wonder of wonders! Seriously? Someone else preparing something . . . for me? Oh, sweet thought! In the midst of my 6-week long preparation, the thing my heart was really longing for was a place to go where someone else had done something–anything, really–in anticipation of my arrival. And here I found Jesus Himself, sometime in the few years of His brief ministry, looking ahead to His death and resurrection and claiming He was about to do just that. Amazing!

I’ve found similar promises in the Word since. Here’s a particularly good one:

“The Lord of hosts will prepare a lavish banquet for all peoples on this mountain; a banquet of aged wine, choice pieces with marrow, and refined, aged wine.”~Isa. 25:6

Now, two things about this description of what God is preparing made me giggle. First of all, there are two references to wine. I’m not currently a big fan, but in the Kingdom–? Now, that’s going to be some good stuff! And for those of us living on rice cakes and carrot sticks in this New Year’s season, the “choice pieces with marrow” might be appealing. Apparently, He reads Julia Child (wait, I’ll bet maybe it was the other way around) because I was just reading her recipe for pot roast the other day. It calls for the beef to be larded. Confused as I was? Well, here’s the description:

“…strips of fresh pork fat are pushed into it, going in the direction of the grain. They baste the interior of the meat as it cooks, and make an attractive design when the meat is sliced . . . ”  -Julia Child, Mastering the Art of French Cooking

Sounds pretty “choice” to me! Fat, not carved off, but pushed in! Now, there’s an otherworldly concept!

But the best part of it all, of course, was the idea that God, even now, is preparing a place for me. The things I do to prepare for Christmas pale in comparison, of course. It’s a thought I need to keep before me all year long.

Thank You, Lord! Thank You so much for coming the first time and living a grace-filled, sin-free life. Thank You for coming to me on a daily basis to speak through Your Word, to strengthen me for the tasks You’ve placed me here in this place to accomplish. Thank You for Your promise to come again and bring me to your home, where all has been prepared for me. What a wonderful promise! Come, Lord Jesus! Amen.

Misty Krasawski is the overly-blessed mom of eight children whom she homeschools in sunshine-y Florida. She has been clinging ferociously to the hand of her Lord since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, homeschooling for the past thirteen years, and has eighteen more years ahead of her with the children who are glad she will have done most of her experimenting on those who went before. Her wonderful husband Rob has much treasure laid up for him in heaven for having been called to such a daunting task. After the house goes to sleep she can sometimes be found gathering her thoughts at http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/MistyKrasawski.

An Extravagant Life

Last week I was online, chatting with my sister-in-law about menus and grocery shopping. At some point during our conversation she said, “We know how to be frugal around here.”

“Right! That’s great!” I said at the time.

But later, thinking back on our conversation, it left a sour taste in my mouth.

Piggy bank

Why, you ask? Why was it that while I was willing to high-five her “frugality,” I found myself balking, thinking I wouldn’t want the same term applied to me?

I’ve referred to myself as frugal in the past. Being frugal is supposed to be good. Especially in times like these, when so many are really struggling, and *all* of us find ourselves in need of being more careful with our finances. There are plenty of great women out there helping others save money, encouraging people to be careful with the way they spend it. I belong to a grocery savings information service myself.

I thought about it a lot over the next few days.

Am I “frugal?” Do I want to be? The word “frugal” has a lot of connotations, and I’m sure we might define it differently. But most of us would probably agree that it implies a holding back . . . measuring carefully . . . not quite taking our resources to the limit.

Something about that just rubs me the wrong way.

Here’s the thing . . . I don’t want to be that. I don’t want to measure everything– not my money, not my time, not my efforts or emotions. I don’t want to give grudgingly. I don’t want to slap the kids’ hands when they reach for one more cookie, or cross people off my Christmas list because I’m trying to keep the gift budget low. I don’t want to buy the perfume I don’t like as well because it’s ten bucks cheaper.

I want to live extravagantly. I want to splurge and enjoy and give more than I think I can.

womanhappyfieldRS

I think God’s like that. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills. He did pretty well with a few loaves and fish, and He didn’t leave anyone out. When there was a cost to be paid– a debt He didn’t owe– He paid it with His own life.

And anyway, He seems to appreciate extravagance . . .

Now when Jesus was in Bethany, at the home of Simon the leper, a woman came to Him with an alabaster vial of very costly perfume, and she poured it on His head as He reclined at the table.  But the disciples were indignant when they saw this, and said, “Why this waste? For this perfume might have been sold for a high price and the money given to the poor.”  But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, “Why do you bother the woman? For she has done a good deed to Me.  For you always have the poor with you; but you do not always have Me.  For when she poured this perfume on My body, she did it to prepare Me for burial.  Truly I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be spoken of in memory of her.”

~Matthew 26:6-13

I’m not saying we should be stupid and spend money we don’t have, nor that we should just throw what we do have out into the street. Our money is God’s, and we’re His stewards. We need to walk in wisdom, and we need to please God in the way we use what He gives us. But I think there’s so much fear right now in the world, especially in regards to money, that we’re in danger of courting a different sort of problem– that of becoming miserly in our spirits. Penny-pinching in our budgets starts to spill over into every other area of our lives. The way we deal with money might become the way we do everything. And that might not be good.

I want to live an extravagant life. It’s going to take a while to flesh out exactly what that means. How about you? As you consider the extravagant gift God sent us in His Son, Jesus, what does extravagance look like in your own life?

Misty Krasawski is the overly-blessed mom of eight children whom she homeschools in sunshine-y Florida. She has been clinging ferociously to the hand of her Lord since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, homeschooling for the past thirteen years, and has eighteen more years ahead of her with the children who are glad she will have done most of her experimenting on those who went before. Her wonderful husband Rob has much treasure laid up for him in heaven for having been called to such a daunting task. After the house goes to sleep she can sometimes be found gathering her thoughts at http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/MistyKrasawski.

Permission Slips for Mom

When I was a kid attending public school, there sure were a lot of papers to deal with. Math homework and essays for English, report cards and assignment sheets, all flew to and fro in a forest-obliterating frenzy. It’s a wonder we have any softwoods left nowadays, as the hauling of paper from school to home and back again continues unabated for today’s generation of schoolchildren, who have had to add wheels to their backpacks just to deal with the situation without consulting a chiropractor.

While some of the papers were handed back to the teacher with hesitation (the research paper we left ’til the night before) and some with glee (that French exam we’d been studying for all semester) my favorites were always of a different sort . . . permission slips.

thumbs-up

Permission slips were fabulous. They meant we were allowed to go on the class trip to Washington, D.C., or that we were going to be out of school for a family vacation next week. They signified a break in the action; a reprieve from work. Having a permission slip meant that we were allowed to not perform whatever it was we would normally be doing if we didn’t have that piece of paper.

After 13 years of homeschooling, I think that every homeschooling mom needs a few permission slips of her own. These are the ones I’ve found the most useful, and I hope they’ll be a blessing to you, too!

Here they are: permission slips for homeschool moms.

Slip #1: Permission not to follow a schedule exactly

We all know that adding the full-time job of homeschooling to the full-time job of being a mom is, well, perhaps evidence that we are a bit daft, not being able to add 40 to 40 and realize there aren’t that many hours in a week and all. Doing it with any semblance of sanity left at the end of the year/semester/day means we’ve got to have a schedule of some sort. Without plans for meals, prayer time, math, science, outside play time and teaching the littles to read . . . well, lets just say the results wouldn’t be pretty, because none of those things would happen at all.

We need some sort of guideline for how our days will progress, and so do our children. But sometimes, I’m tempted to take my schedule too far. When the math lesson takes priority over dealing with the heart attitudes behind my childrens’ bickering, or Bible time is forgotten once again in the rush to hit our workboxes, something needs to change. I need to remember that I’m the teacher, I made the schedule, and I can mix it up, readjust, or kick it to the curb as necessary on any given day.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” Ecc. 3:11

Slip #2: Permission to have a less-than-perfect house

One day, as I stood in the middle of a mound of spilled Cheerios, I looked over the pile of yet to be folded laundry on the ottoman at the disheveled dining room table, which was covered with drying watercolor masterpieces, scattered schoolbooks and a few remnants of that morning’s breakfast (mostly syrup) and thought to myself . . . where’s the janitor? I’m sure no one who spends time here really has any clue how I’d like my house to look, and I haven’t seen my decorating style (or my kitchen floor) in a couple of decades. I’m just kidding– it’s not really that bad.

Sometimes it just feels like it is! We have a chore chart, of course, and everyone has assigned areas of the house that they’re (supposed to be) in charge of. I spend most of every summer doing as much de-cluttering as possible so that once school starts, I don’t have to think about that much. Enlisting the kids’ help is a good idea for their sakes as well as our own, since they will have to care for their own homes one day. And we need to use our down time wisely. I’ve found that if I spend 15 minutes at the top of every hour working on *something* in my house; be it laundry, the kitchen, or picking up school shrapnel, everything is in pretty good shape at the end of the day as opposed to looking like a tornado went through. But we’ve definitely had to tone down our expectations in this area. My home is lived in, and if you’re a homeschool family, so is yours. It’s not going to look like House Beautiful’s cover, or like your sister-in-laws house where everyone’s gone all day at public school, work, and sports activities for the bulk of the week.

Embrace it–it’s reality. “Where no oxen are, the crib is clean: but much increase is by the strength of the ox.” Prov. 14:4

superwomanrs

Slip #3: Permission not to be a perfect mom

We start so hopefully when we embark on our homeschool journeys. We are going to be June Cleaver, Martha Stewart and Charlotte Mason all rolled into one. We are going to speak to our children gently and respectfully. We are going to teach them Latin and go through all of the Great Books . . . this semester. We are going to meet our husbands at the door at the end of each homeschool day in our aprons and pearls with a hot dinner on the table and the children standing in a row, shoes shined, reciting the states and capitals (okay, we’ll save that for Grandma.) We will have a garden, raise goats, and bake bread. We will rise at 5:30 am for Bible reading and chores, our kids will graduate from home college at 16, and we will sing at the local nursing home on Fridays. And everyone will LIKE IT.

Or not.

Somewhere during your first year of homeschooling, you might have noticed an interesting phenomenon: you are still human. Even after we purchase a bunch of curriculum, buy matching pajamas to homeschool in, and set up our children’s desks, we’re still dealing with sinful human beings, and the most difficult one to handle is the one in the mirror. Becoming a homeschooling mom didn’t automatically make us more patient, less prone to yelling, or incredibly organized. But Jesus can make us all of those things–or at least, more of them than we are now. These children, after all, were His idea, and they are His primary means of our sanctification–surprise! We won’t be perfect. Indeed, we can’t be perfect.

A few years ago I was asking God why I felt like I could never be enough for my kids, because I so wanted to do everything exactly “right” (whatever that means.) What He said to me has stuck ever since. The gist of it was, “Because that’s impossible. The areas where you aren’t enough–the areas in their lives where you leave holes–those are the places I will reach in and touch their hearts. They are the areas in which they will find their need of Me.” Wow. So much for perfection! We offer our hearts to God, and ask and then allow Him to change us. And when we yell, or forget to teach someone something, or are too lenient, or don’t have all the answers, God shows up. That’s an important lesson for all of us. “And He has said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.’ Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.” 2 Cor. 12:9

I’m sure the list of slips we’d all find helpful could take up a lot of that paper we were talking about earlier. Take some time now to ask the Lord which one you need–and if you come up with a new one, find a way to pass it on!

Misty Krasawski is the overly-blessed mom of eight children whom she homeschools in sunshine-y Florida. She has been clinging ferociously to the hand of her Lord since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, homeschooling for the past thirteen years, and has eighteen more years ahead of her with the children who are glad she will have done most of her experimenting on those who went before. Her wonderful husband Rob has much treasure laid up for him in heaven for having been called to such a daunting task. After the house goes to sleep she can sometimes be found gathering her thoughts at http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/MistyKrasawski.