School Days and The Steps


I felt a bit insane trying to finish up the school year and packing up our life to move. I plopped all the books into their bins and instead of sticking them on a bookshelf, I stuck them in the back of my car. My grade books stayed in my bag and haven’t left yet. Dragging them up mom’s stairs and into her library was cathartic. We had been here just 6 years ago. We lived here for 6 months waiting for our house on Jefferson to be built. Now my kids are older, I’m homeschooling them, and now I have to homeschool them IN my mom’s house. Thank goodness she is an eternal student.


Tessa finished up her first year of Pre-K and it was wonderful. She loved it. I’m excited about teaching my youngest to read! We worked on end of the year projects: Jupiter, paper sculptures, writing assignments and other reports. We had lots of end of the year parties. We said some goodbyes.


Being at my mom and dad’s wrapped around me like a blanket. I was such a bundle of nerves as I packed up our Jefferson house. I was brought to tears and/or nausea thinking about our stuff in a cement box storage unit in the ‘hood. Our whole life, in a ratty, dark hole. I had to will myself to put one foot in front of the other. So plopping down at Mom’s dining table and talking, watching cable, walking down St. Elmo Ave, sitting on the deck and watching kids jump on the trampoline…it was medicine for my weary mind. Those days that I did need to cry, I could pull the covers over my head, hear my mom have quiet conversations with Josiah, and listen to my dad play piano one floor below. Praise God for the time that it takes to coax our trust in Him, and the things He uses to stimulate the deepest part of our senses and know that He is aware of every. last. thing.



Those “breaks” that I was going to give myself once we moved out. I don’t think I really let that happen. My mom told me to take it easy, don’t beat myself up. My friend and fellow home school mom told me I was doing great and was probably ahead of the game.  So as we spent the last three weeks of our school semester living out of boxes at Mom’s and filling our days with conversations with grandparents that we wouldn’t have everyday, I breathed a sigh of relief and just kept on going. There were books to be read and topics to discuss. There were walks to take and things to see. It seemed like a satisfying sigh at the end of our first year of homeschooling.

Then we packed up, and found another place to squat.


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