Let me begin by saying that I have no problem with homeschooling. I have many friends who do it, most of them very well. But y’all. I cannot. I just can.not.

And why do I say this? Why can’t I homeschool? It’s entirely due to the daily horror that is homework.

I have always despised homework. Starting 3 years ago with Kindergarten readers (which we had to do twice, thanks to twins), I have taken a daily deep breath to steel myself against the onslaught of homework. It’s torture. It’s painful. It’s a daily test of my very last spiritual virtue (and full evidence of my utter lack thereof). And it’s not my kids. Oh no. I love them. They ask good questions. It’s the whole, crazy logistical circus that homework creates.

Let’s just use today as an example.

3:30 – Drive away from parent pickup with all 4 kids (go me!)

3:30-3:35 – Chat with my kids on the drive home. Listen to complaints about whose turn it is to play a screen. Discuss the day. Find out that Megan had a bad day because she forgot the paper she diligently completed last night and was holding in her hands this morning before we left for school. Assure her we will find it when we get home. Stop briefly for Alex to jump out and get the mail. Arrive at home.

3:40 – Give permissions for snacks. State that we will start homework. (Alex picks math because it’s due tomorrow. Erin starts with reading packet. Megan wants to start with reading, I require her to start with math because I cannot listen to her read while also helping the twins…see below.)

3:45 – Homework commences. Alex tells me he isn’t sure what to do with his math. We sit down at the table. Erin flops onto the couch. Megan sits on the floor by the big windows. (The next events happen in consecutive moments, but without my being able to watch the clock.)

• Alex and I read the instructions and work through the first problem (of 4 total questions). Erin calls.
• I leave Alex to do the problem and move to the couch.
• Erin doesn’t understand what to do on question 4. I try to explain. This takes a while.
• Alex asks me if his answer sounds right.
• Megan hands me her math paper to check.
• I ask Alex to wait for a minute, refuse to take Meg’s paper, and finish helping Erin.
• I take the math paper. I walk to the table to check what Alex has. He’s good. I set him to do the next problem. I sit down to read over Megan’s math.
• Megan did not follow the instructions. I hand her paper back. She goes back to the floor.
• Erin has another question. So does Alex. I cannot answer Alex’s question. (How AM I supposed to “explain” the fact that he rounded, then subtracted to get an answer of 2500 people? His work is right there…what’s to explain? And how can he possibly explain it on two lines?!?) We write a note to their teacher.
• I sit down at my computer to write a couple of emails regarding the Boy and Girl Scouts sell-a-thons currently going on and for which different teachers have graciously ordered from my kids. I try to disappear into Facebook for a minute. No such luck.
• Erin has another question. I go to the couch and try to explain how to write an answer describing the evidence she’s looking for in the text. She doesn’t understand. I try again. We still are barely communicating (apparently). Alex calls me back. I tell her to do her best and walk over to Alex.
• He is done with two more questions. One of them is wrong. We go over why. He finishes his math. I check them. He goes to start his reading packet. I’m pretty sure Timmy has been playing a video game this entire time.

4:30-4:50 – Erin tells me she is bored of her reading packet. It’s not due until Friday so I let her be done. She starts her math. She finishes her 4 problems and gets a promised turn on a screen. Alex comes out to say he’s going to stop working on his reading packet for tonight too. I’m good with that. He completes some of his extra math problems (Erin did hers the other night). I sit down on the couch to do Megan’s reading. Tim joins us while we read her official book, 1 chapter of her extra book, and her vocabulary words. Then he goes to watch Erin play the iPad. Eric comes home somewhere in here.

5:00 – I send everyone to DO something: play a game, go outside, play with pony figures, so I can now work on dinner.

In that 90 minutes, which we repeat daily to some extent (it is typically shorter–this week’s math and reading packets have proven unusually painful–but not less complicated), I have prayed for wisdom and kind words. I have bounced between my children, nearly flinching when another one calls my name. They have worked 90 minutes on school work after already completing an 8-hour day. We’re all tired. I cannot seem to effectively explain things to them (and I successfully taught college composition to freshman, y’all). And while I could leave it until after dinner, I cannot bear the thought of this kind of logistical ping-pong on top of baths and bedtime.

No, I cannot homeschool. The thought of being entirely in charge of my kids’ educations and on the hook for every explanation, question, assignment and assessment is just more than I can bear. It would require God Almighty using sky writing in purple sparkly smoke letters for me to even consider the idea of homeschooling. And even then, I’d be seriously hesitant.

And to all the teachers out there, who deal with this kind of distraction and attempt to explain to a child who is just not following you and faithfully do your job every single day…you are my heroes. My absolute heroes.

After a jam-packed day, I just spent almost 3 hours at the school for an evening PTO meeting and a meet-the-candidates night for the upcoming school board elections.

Y’all. It was really cool.

We have a great district. There was good discussion. There were great questions. I learned a lot. Some teachers were there. They are great. Some administrators are there. I’d never met them before, so that was cool, too.

I am so glad I went. WHY?

Because our teachers are really awesome people who give and give and give and give to our students. They aren’t all a perfect fit for every kid every year. Of course not. But they are real people who, for the most part, really care about those students with whom they spend more time than their own kids.

Because administrators get a bad reputation. And sometimes it’s deserved. But most of those things are misunderstandings. Or at least understandable, if you also know the greater context. These men and women are trying to do the best they can, with the resources they have, to make our students’ futures the best they can be.

Because when the community, the school board, the teachers, the parents, and the students all come together, really amazing things can happen. We have to be honest with each other. We have to say hard things (kindly, if possible). We have to see and deal with sad, human stuff. But we also get to see children and schools and communities and people become better than they’d otherwise be.

That’s why giving time to your local school is totally worth it.

Is it just me, or have you also noticed that people don’t TALK to each other anymore? There’s little chit chat and virtually no dialogue at all. Instead, we live on the ends of a spectrum. It has ignoring other people completely on one end and violently in-your-face confrontations on the other.

Clearly, neither of those is communication. And I don’t think anybody really likes that we vacillate between ignoring and yelling at/about people. I mean, who really wants to be this kind of people? But with just a little thought, we might be able to come up with some reasons why. And then maybe we can start to address those reasons.

1. In our culture, we don’t disagree anymore. It’s not allowed. We aren’t allowed to have conversation where we put ideas on the table, talk about them, and walk away friends. No, someone has to WIN. In every conversation, someone has to dominate and someone has to be undone. There can’t be learning on both sides. There can’t be dialogue. And there certainly can’t be any kind of resolution.

In today’s world, I have to win and you have lose. Or you have to demolish me and I have to cower in shame and ignominy. Someone has to be SHUT DOWN (oh, how I hate all the clickbait vocabulary). And it’s really unfortunate, this stalemate of opinion. Because so many people on all sides of pretty much all issues have valuable things to add. And we can’t hear any of them because we’re too busy “demolishing” each other. Or accusing them of being horrible people because they don’t agree with us. That’s not communication.

Also…

2. We refuse to admit we even might be wrong. I purposely keep friends on my feeds and whatnot who live out past me on the various spectrums. I do it because I want to hear what the people who are farther left and farther right than me think. It gives me helpful perspective.

BUT, what I have realized recently, is that neither side (of most issues) will admit that they are even a little bit possibly not 100% absolutely right. They’re right. They’re not wrong. And then the “demolishing” begins again.

There’s no room, no grace, no chance for an open and honest hearing. I’m right. Period. And the thing is, probably one of those sides IS right. Or at least more right…because let’s be honest, we’re human and we have to live inside our own heads which makes it pretty much impossible to be 100% right about anything. But again, I digress…

The inability of Americans to communicate with each other, I think, can be greatly resolved by addressing those two things. Yes, there are other issues. Fair hearings are always hard to come by, for many, many reasons. But if we, individually and as groups, worked on those two issues–1) Letting people disagree with us without crushing them and 2) Leaving a tiny space for the possibility that we aren’t all-knowing about all things–I think we’d see an immediate and marked improvement on the culture-wide diatribes that are currently tearing us apart.

I finished making applesauce a week or so ago. It was a lot of work. It always is. And it may not seem like it’s worth it. Which is why my sister teased, “You know, Shan, they sell applesauce in the store.” Hahaha. She’s hilarious. (Actually, she totally is.)

But for all that they sell applesauce in the store, I still think it’s worth it to make my own. Here’s why.

1. It tastes better. I like chunky applesauce, and when I first started visiting Eric’s family, I was introduced to his Grandma Hogue’s homemade applesauce. And it is unbelievably good. As in, ridiculously good. It’s so simple: apples, sugar, salt, lemon juice, and cinnamon. That’s it. But man, it is just one of my favorite things. So when I found the recipe in my mother-in-law’s recipe box, I quickly scribbled it down. I’ve been making and canning that yumminess every since. Because never have I ever found a store-bought applesauce that compares. Not even close.

2. It’s an heirloom. Grandma Hogue passed away a couple of years ago now. But I still make her applesauce. I don’t know where she got the recipe. Maybe her mother? She made it every year, and that’s what they always took to potlucks, even after she couldn’t see or hear very well. That recipe is a part of them. So every time I start with Ginger Gold apples (Grandpa’s favorite) or open another jar of her sauce, it’s like having them at the table again. That makes me happy.

3. It’s valuable. Canning is an old-fashioned thing that’s coming back into favor. It’s cool to can. But there’s nothing special in the process or even the product. In fact, the details of canning are not hard, but they don’t allow for much wiggle room (get it wrong and things rot…not good eats). And as my sister pointed out, I could buy a jar of applesauce pretty easily and cheaply.

But on the other hand, we live next door to an orchard. And with a little work and a lot of time, I can create and preserve something that will last all year. It’s a way to respect our finances, the long hours my husband works on behalf of our family, the local business next door, and our own property. We joke sometimes about how we’re homesteading, but the truth is, whether I ever own farm animals or manage to grow and preserve a gigantic garden, I can make applesauce. I can do that much. And the stacks of jars on the shelf make for a satisfying and valuable return on the investment of my time and a few hundred apples.

So for as long as I can, I will make my own applesauce. Oh, and I’m always happy to share.

This morning, I got up at 7:15 (or a little later), exercised, showered, ate breakfast, looked over the Children’s church message I’m supposed to teach tomorrow and then left to get Erin for her ball games.

We were at the ball field from 9:30 until 1:30. Then (as it was the last day of fall ball), we joined the team briefly for ice cream cones. Then home.

Today is also Megan’s 7th birthday. So we had a few presents for her in the afternoon. Then baths. Then into town for dinner at Steak N Shake. We had surprisingly fast service, and after we ate, we headed to the Kids Sale location to pick up what didn’t sell. Thankfully, I had two bins to bring home and all my big stuff left. Yay!

Then we headed down the street to the mall and watched the My Little Pony movie as a family. At 9 pm we left the mall and headed home. Three of four kids fell asleep before we arrived. So bed time involved quick changes, short prayers, and some meltdowns besides.

And now, it’s almost 10 pm and I am just now writing. Sometimes, it’s just that kind of day. Oh, and Happy Birthday to my Meggie!

I’m a people-pleaser. Have been for years. I’m also a perfectionist. And a control freak. Also, I’m very Type A.

So clearly, I’m super fun at parties. And I have a hard time saying no. Or I used to. Surprisingly, I’m getting better at drawing that line sometimes. Here’s why…

1. I am learning to be okay with NOT being in control.

The truth is, I’m not in control. When I began to process WHY I needed to be in control all the time, it quickly became apparent that two big things were in play. FEAR and DISBELIEF. I was afraid all the time: of failing, of disappointing people, of death. And I didn’t believe that God was as big as He says He is. That He is actually kind and generous and good.

So I began to let go…just a little. I’d step back or take my hands off and just wait to see what would happen. And what happened was that God showed up. People didn’t hate me. A little failure sometimes made life more fun, flexible and enjoyable. It was actually a good thing…oddly enough…to not be in control.

2. Saying no makes space.

It makes space for God to work. Not me forcing outcomes or whatever, but Him moving in and around me to bring about His plans. And it makes space for other people. When I say no, it allows someone else to say yes. Someone who might actually be better at that thing than me. Or just someone who has a little bit more time this week to be flexible. It makes space for my husband and my kids. They get to be themselves, to make mistakes, to feel their way through instead of me telling them how it should all be done. And that makes for all kinds of good things.

3. My attitude is better.

Jesus says in Matthew 5 (verse 37), “Let your yes be yes and your no, no.” He’s talking about religious people swearing by the temple or by heaven to make it sound like their promise or vow was even more special or honorable. The idea is that promising something, with extra emphasis, doesn’t actually make the vow better somehow. I don’t do a lot of religious promising, but I do find the principle holds true in much of life, too. When I say yes, it needs to be a whole-hearted yes. Not yes, but me grumbling about it the whole time I’m doing it. That’s not really a yes. So if I can’t actually do it whole-heartedly, then I’ve started giving myself permission to say no.

And when I did that, a funny thing happened. My yes and no stopped being such a big deal. It didn’t mean as much about who I was or what my value was. I could just say yes. Or no. And go on with life. But when I did say yes, I did it more happily. And when I said no, I didn’t feel guilty about it. It was incredibly freeing.

So I’ve continued to say no sometimes. Of course, if you know me, I’m nearly always in for helping and serving. But learning to say no has been a great thing. I highly recommend it.

I know a lot of people out there do not take the Bible seriously. They don’t. I heard Bill Maher trying to let this guy talk about the Bible as a real book. Mr. Maher has already decided it isn’t. But he lets people who do believe it try to convince him (which I totally respect). And then there’s the Woody Harrelsons of the world. I read this thing (on social media, so you know, it may or may not be true) that he did all this reading, but then the Bible just seemed too man-made, so he gave up on it. And then there are all the church people. They say they do, but we’re all pretty much masters of saying-one-thing-and-doing-anything-we-actually-want. Or maybe that’s just me.

But here’s the thing. Whether you think the Bible is inspired (“God-breathed”) or just another hoax made up by some people to control and subjugate other people, I really do think it’s the real deal. Here’s why.

1. Because I’ve actually read it. I think a lot of people who dismiss it don’t actually read it. Or they read it ignorantly, instead of thoughtfully. They try to read it like one long multi-chapter book. But it isn’t. It’s an encyclopedia of 66 separate books with different authors and audiences and purposes and literary types. And if you don’t read a text well, you can never see it for what it is. (At least, that’s what they taught me in my English program at college.)

2. Because it says the opposite of what we want it to. Now, church people are really, really good (and by “church people” of course, I mean “me”) at making the Bible sound like what we want it to sound like. But it really isn’t what I want it to be. I don’t want to love as God loved me. Sometimes, I don’t even want to acknowledge that God loves me. But He does. And loving others as He loves me…that’s hard. It means I have to do hard things, impossible things. Which is, of course, the point.

3. Because it can only work if it isn’t a human book at all. The stuff the Bible asks of me cannot be done. CANNOT BE DONE. Not without something bigger and more loving and more holy than me running the show. And that’s a pretty big problem because I really prefer to run my own show–even though that pretty much never goes well for me (or for the people around me). The Bible isn’t a lovely book of morals or fables. They are commands that can only work if a supernatural “other” is always in play in our world.

4. Because I’ve met Him. I believe the Bible, honestly, because I’ve met Jesus. Oh, I’ve studied the Bible as literature, and it’s fascinating. I’ve read the Bible as a to-do list, and I can assure you it’s a great tool for self-penance. But when Jesus speaks through the Bible, when its words really do come alive (as it claims for itself), it’s hard to ignore. And He has shown up in those pages. And through those pages, He’s shown up in my life.

And that’s why I take the Bible seriously. Because of Jesus.

I just put my kids to bed. Except I didn’t. I mean, I took them to their rooms after family prayers and I kissed and hugged each one and turned off lights and closed doors. But when I came into my office and sat down, I’ve been interrupted now 5–make that 6–times by four children in less than five minutes. They’ve come for extra hugs and to tell me how something flicked into their eye when they were brushing their teeth and how they aren’t sure they got a hug from Daddy. They’ve come out because they heard someone else out here, so they didn’t want to miss out on something. And now they’re making so much noise running between rooms and laughing that I’m going to have to go back down the hall to quiet them. Excuse me…

I’m back.

So here it is, not even 9:00 p.m., and the urge to absolutely SNAP at one of my children, the next one who crosses the threshold of their bedroom specifically, is very, very real.

And I know I should practice forgiveness. Nothing they’re doing is wrong. It’s not immoral. They’re holding glow sticks on their upper lips so it looks like they have neon mustaches. In all honesty, it’s funny, if I let it be.

But I’m more annoyed than amused. WHY? Because it’s inconvenient. Because I’ve been “on” all day, and I really want a few minutes to type this out. Instead, I was interrupted ONE more time by a child who was working herself up into absolute angst (I can only guess the drama that awaits when this child hits puberty) over a song from music class today about a boy who got eaten by a snake.

And I wanted to tell her to buck up, go back to bed and go.to.sleep!!!!!

I didn’t, though. She needs my honest attention. She needs me not to cater to her contrived fear. It’s not really that she’s afraid. It’s that she wants someone to see her. So in my heart, I practice forgiveness, and I look her in the eye. I promise her that there is no snake anywhere near here big enough to eat her. I play her a silly song on the computer and then move the bluetooth speaker to her room so she can listen to VeggieTales’ silly songs.

I want to be angry because it makes me feel better. Anger tells me that I can WIN this time. But at great and terrible cost.

The heart of a child.

The modeling of an unkind response.

The choice to ignore all that I’ve been forgiven of.

It might feel better for a minute–anger. So I too-often choose it over forgiveness. But I am learning to let it go and, in moments like tonight, I’m always glad I did.

First, because it wasn’t working. Let’s be honest, if hearing more of my voice was what actually produced results in my children, things would have changed a LONG time ago. But nothing was changing. I was griping about the same things, over and over.

And not big things. Not even “don’t bite your brother” level stuff. Small stuff. Like close the front door when you come in. Take your plates to the counter. Turn off lights if you see them on. That kind of stuff. Easy stuff. I kept nagging, and they kept ignoring me.

So much fun for everyone. *insert eye roll*

Second, because I stumbled onto a better way. It’s our marble jar, and it has worked brilliantly. There is a Start jar with 65 marbles in it* and a Lost jar into which marbles go. On Sunday, all the marbles go into the Start jar. All week long, I move marbles any time I have to do one of the things that they are supposed to remember. On Sunday morning, I count the marbles left in the Start jar and they earn a (collective) reward. Rewards are based on tens (20-29 left earns an extra screen time, 60-65 left earns a family dinner out, etc.)

And things are SO much better, y’all. Seriously. They are working together. They remind each other (kindly, even). They help each other. They WANT to keep those marbles. Every time, they hear a marble move, they stop right.that.second to ask why.

But best of all, I have stopped nagging almost entirely. And it is glorious.

*The number is mostly random. That was the number of marbles I had. We may actually drop the number soon because things are going so well…

WHY is a very powerful question. It pushes us deeper. It forces us to mine for answers to real questions, uncomfortable questions. But WHY is not a fix-all. It can be (and often is) stripped of its power in a couple of important ways.

First, WHY is short-circuited when we aren’t truthful. We can ask WHY all we want–to ourselves and to others–but it cannot help us if even one person lies. To be less than honest is easier, but it won’t help us in the long run. It will always prevent true connections, better communication, and helpful revelations. All of which WHY can do, if its allowed.

Second, WHY does not work in a one-sided power structure. If both parties (or all parties, as the case may be) are not on equal footing, then WHY will lose its effectiveness. If one partner has all the power, then no amount of WHY can fix the problems between them. Ever.

Third, WHY is rarely immediate. Sometimes, when I’ve begun a journey of discovery like this, it takes weeks, even months, to start to uncover the real answers behind the WHY. This one is not really anyone’s fault. But it does hold us back. If we aren’t willing to keep slogging through the layers of our excuses and other people’s influence, WHY can’t help us. We have to dig in and keep digging, for as long as it takes. Because if we do this, what WHY will help us uncover can be some of the most powerful and effective healing we ever experience.