The Garden Dance
July 2, 2025
The Strategy
August 27, 2025
Not According to Plan
This isn’t a blog I’ve wanted to write and to be fair, no one is forcing me to write it, but in all honesty, I feel God inviting me into a new level of honesty not only with Him, but also with you. Circling in the wind seems to be reel after reel of people crushing it at homeschooling and life and if you’ve ever lumped me into this category, let me tell you the truth.
For the last year, those two little words in my bio have haunted me.
They seem harmless and common enough these days, but to me they bore an impossible burden.
Homeschooling mom.
You see, last year, halfway through the school year a mental health storm laced with unhealed childhood wounds eclipsed my life. To those on the outside you might not have noticed and for this I’m sorry. I’m still learning how take off the mask of “everything is okay here” and allow myself to be truly seen. The depth and breadth of such is a story for another day, but in the crosshairs of my storm were my three children, who were getting wet. My youngest was a year old and wanted constant attention, the other was in kindergarten and struggling to learn to read and my oldest was in second grade and excelling at a pace I felt I couldn’t keep up with.
I was overwhelmed and dreaded getting out of bed each morning.
I felt like I was drowning, not only in the sinking sand of poor mental health, but also in the realm of educating my children.
I cried multiple times throughout the day, a lot of times in public.
I lived with a crippling sense of failing in every area of life.
I wasn’t the joyful, easy-going mom my kids needed me to be.
I didn’t even recognize myself.
The day before thanksgiving, my husband came home and found me in the fetal position on my bed (while my kids watched a show on the couch) and made the executive decision to “put the kids in the cottage school for the rest of the year.” I can’t even describe how impossible this felt even though deep down it was what I was crying out for. Thankfully and miraculously, my older girls had been involved in a small, cottage school that operated as a "homeschool tutor" to either full or part-time students. It was about a half-hour away and tuition (although affordable) would still be a stretch. But deep down, my identity was so wrapped around my ability to homeschool that it felt like I was being split open if I couldn't be both mom and educator.
One prevailing thought berated me:
This means I’ve failed.
I’ve failed at the most important thing.
I’m quitting halfway through.
This decision felt impossibly difficult at the time and if it weren't for my husband I don't think I could have begun. Yet though it all, this process began to build a bridge to the person I wanted to be. Every day as I drove my big girls a half hour to a place full of Jesus, joyful education & safety, I literally drove through my own guilt and had to convince myself that this was for the best. But the gentle voice of God whispered through all the others, vying for my attention:
I care as much about you and your wellbeing as I do your children's.
Let’s tend to you.
I’ll take care of the rest.
As this revelation poured over my soul like a warm summer rain, it began to bring forth life in the barren wasteland of my broken expectations. It began to awaken a new identity through Him that wasn’t dependent on how well I could perform. An identity that was not dependent on my ability to mother and educate my children in unison. An identity that is built upon the reality that I am loved and approved of by the God who created me.
This may seem like a tidy little list, but the reality is I only arrived here through months of therapy, crying and work so deep I can’t even begin to describe it. More importantly, I’m learning how to allow Holy Spirit to shine into the places so deep and so dark to expose and clean, a job I didn’t know He was willing to do. So, He can write a new story through my life, a story I’m excited to see unfold.
Now this is all very new and I’m like a little child, learning how to walk, but it’s getting easier. I’m becoming freer. I also am letting go of the expectation that being “healed” means doing twice as much and twice as better as I did before.
God whispered through all the others, vying for my attention:
I care as much about you and your wellbeing as I do your children.
Let’s tend to you.
I’ll take care of the rest.
When healing actually means doing less.
Being gentler with my expectations.
Being more open to God changing the plans.
It also has given me a new sense of freedom that says: “if this isn’t working, we’ll find a solution, which doesn't include pushing harder.”
I’m not locked into a lifetime subscription; we can pivot year to year.
The beginning of this homeschool year looks a lot different than the last. I’m not white knuckling, overplanning and dreading it. I’m living within what I believe my capacity is currently: being a part-time homeschool mom, while entrusting my children’s education to others. I’m easing into this school year with expectancy that God will meet me and my meager offering and breathe His life into it. My confidence is that He will continue to make a way where there is no way, into new pathways of my soul and a new way of being.
2 Comments
Olivia, I’m so sorry you had to walk through this but at the same time — what a beautiful and powerful picture of the way it looks and feels to be rescued.
My intensive year of therapy and rebuilding began the summer my oldest was 6 (and had just come home from kindergarten), my middle 4 (and his first year of part time preschool) and youngest newly 2. To think of doing that and schooling at the same time feels impossible.
Praying over your year and your heart!
Oh friend, thank you for sharing and for your prayers!! I’m so thankful that you’ve found something that works for you and your family now 🙂