Homeschool Renewal at the Swimming Pool

It must be time to gear up for a new year of school home education. The reason I know this is because of the profound doubt I find myself entertaining at the slightest provocation. Satan is still the subtlest of all creatures that way.

Today, it came in the form of 20 adorable little girls and boys--right about Dumpling's age--who took over the shallow end of the neighborhood pool during our outing.

When they first got there, all dry and bright-eyed in their colorful bikinis, squealing with delight at the temperature of the water, I was a little irritated at the way they were takin' over the place concerned about being able to track my own two little bobbing heads amongst all those others. But after a few minutes, I didn't worry anymore. My girls were standing together, backs up against the side of the pool, watching the group like they would as many monkeys at the zoo.

And that, frankly, was a welcome reprive after nearly 2 hours of listening to the two of them ask me yell for me to, "Watch this! Watch this, Mommy!" in turn. But mostly not in turn. I must have read the same two sentences in R.C. Sproul's The Holiness of God a couple dozen times before I finally just gave up.

So there they were, still and staring. And as I watched Dumpling's face, I remembered back to the last time I caught that look of longing in Fifi's countenance when she was just a little older than her sister is now. It's the look of intrigue--profound curiosity. Because something is novel. New. Yet to be explored. The wonderful unknown.

Except that I do know. I think I know.

But boy...for a few minutes, those sweet children that Dumpling, Cuddlebug and I watched were so excited to be on that field trip from their day school or kid's camp or wherever they were coming from that nothing could steal their joy! They were cooperative and caring with one another, they shared rafts and water toys, and waved the better swimmers of the group off to the deep end.

"Who are these children?" I asked myself, "They are so cheerful and kind to one another.

"Hmmmmm. Dumpling is so social. I wonder...

Lord, I don't want to make decisions for these girls you've given into my care that are going to cost them something of value. Is this something of value? Am I...are we holding them away from a good thing?"

"Mommy?"

"Mommy?"

And I am jolted from my quiet angst by Cuddlebug who needs to use the restroom. Again. She is sopping wet, and so building a nest that I will afterward have to peel off her little backside like dried Elmer's on 3rd-grade palms is something I've looked forward to all morning. Again.

Good thing she's cute.

But then...a funny thing happened on the way back from the bathroom.

Familiarity had bred contempt. They had lost that lovin' feeling. These mysterious darlings in the pool had changed in the 20 minutes since they'd taken up residence. Nothing so terrible as to need to call them on, but simply the verbal residue of kids in the care of a 10-1 ratio. Ideas not worth having. Words not worth saying. The cliques began taking shape that inevitably showed up the loners and the runt in the litter.

And as I thought about it, I realized that I have one of each. I have three girls and I can imagine one as the confident loner, another as one of the popular girls and another as the one who gets left out or laughed at.

But that's not what God wants for these girls. And it's not what I want for these girls. And by His grace and provision, it's not what they know.

I don't want the work of the confident loner to be inhibited by the crowd. I don't want the popular girl to--even by association--contribute to the hurt of others made different from herself. And I certainly want to shelter the one who would take the teasing and lose herself in the midst of it all.

So God has been good to me again as I prepare to embark upon preparing for another year of learning. He certainly never shows me more than He's calling me to do right now, but He's ever faithful to show me that much. And truly, it's all I need.