My Heart

The stealthy fingers of predawn light plied their way thorough the blinds, confirming the rattling alarm clock’s accuracy. Carefully, without lifting my weary head from the pillow, I silenced the monster.

“Lord,” the unspoken request for strength echoed through my groggy mind.

But today it was not to be. Closing my eyes against the room spinning around me, I curled back into my little ball and waited.

Before long, I could hear the children’s attempts toward quietness. The smells of breakfast drifted past along with muffled bursts of laughter punctuated by brief silences.

Finally, my body decided to cooperate, and I dragged myself into the waiting hugs and kisses of my babies.

Knowing me as well as they do, one prepared an oversized, steaming cup of coffee while another cleared a pile of books from the recliner, all amidst a continuous stream of updates from the past few hours.

“We did all our jobs, Mama, except for him–he’s still not even dressed..”

“I might still be in my jammies, but I already finished language and reading!”

My mind involuntarily contrasted the morning’s scene against my early picturesque visions–children snuggled cozily on the couch reading with me; pouring over maps and reference books; taking long hikes through the woods. The ideal. The very best. The wildly unrealistic.

My heart is content. It has not always been–the Lord, in His sweet, gentle ways, brought me to the place of contentment. Seeds of perceived neglect, (how could I give my children a proper childhood from the living room couch?) blossomed into flowers of independence and sweet, helpful spirits.

We appreciate the good days–which vastly outnumber the truly unbearable ones–playing outside, taking field trips, or just chatting together about life.

The academics are there, steadily running in the background. They bring order and routine to our days without running our lives.

I would never have chosen this path. But I am thankful for the fruit our Gardener has cultivated in our lives.