Where Does a Homeschool Mom Go to Cry?
Where does a homeschool mom go when she can’t hold it in? When the stresses of life wear her down, little eyes watching her all the time?
It had been the most difficult of my life. There were so many losses, hurts, broken promises, and interrupted dreams. 2007 brought frequent bouts of emotion that overcame me – which is not characteristic of me. Waves of grief assaulted me as I tried to stand strong in the storm around me.Ā
There were blessings also. My marriage to Davis, though severely tested, was strengthened the hard way. The kids were great, healthy, and growing strong. Through friends and family, God met our every need during this stormy trial. He sustained us.
Through it all, the roller coaster ride took my breath away and shook me to my very foundation of belief.
Because we homeschooled, I did not have the luxury of waving to them as they headed off to school each day. I had seven pairs of eyes watching, 24-7-365. Iāve had no escape, break, or breather; our situation did not allow for that. Every morning, I awoke with a rush of realization of the enormity of our situation and our lack of control over it. We were just going to have to wait on Him, trust Him, and depend on Him.
My kids watched as people, sometimes strangers to us personally, brought food to our home. They found anonymous donations in our mailbox or on our front porch, saw me thank person after person for giving us what we could not get for ourselves, and saw the hand of God in these servants of the Most High.
One day, a fellow homeschool mom came with groceries, a bunch of them. As she and her children brought in load after load, I was overcome; some of the items she brought were on my list in the pantry that no one knew about but God. I had to excuse myself. I went out to the steps and just sat down and sobbed. He knew, cared, and provided.
On a funny note, everyone who brought us food has brought us chocolate. Chocolate M&Ms, brownie mix, chocolate Teddy Grahams, chocolate chip cookies. Clearly, word had gotten out that I liked my chocolate – the pantry was full, and so was my heart.
The employment deal we were working on took many unpredictable turns. At first, I tried to hide my tears from the kids, but as time passed, I couldnāt, and I stopped trying, and I realized the value of my children seeing my tears. Their mom didn’t laugh as much as she used to.
I woke up just about every day with a start. Every morning the first thought in my mind was, “Oh no, it wasnāt just a nightmare. Itās reality.”
I would have to make myself breathe as my mind started racing through all of the challenges, unanswered questions, and bills. All of those still lingered. The silence lingered. It was stifling and oppressive.Ā
My emotions started breaking through in the simple, innocent questions from my kids. Questions like, āCan we get some Goldfish crackers? I miss them.ā Or, āCould I play soccer?ā or āItās hot. Could we get some ice cream?ā The unemployed answer was a solid no on all accounts. I knew and understood why, but how to explain it to the little eyes?
What do you tell them so they comprehend but arenāt stressed? My words failed me. The fact was, there wasnāt an explanation. I didnāt understand how I could help them. My tears told them what I couldnāt. My raw emotion said what I didnāt know how to say. Some said that I needed to hold it together for the kids, that I needed to shield them from it all. I did for a while, but then the dam broke, and the tears spilled over.
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