It's been about 13 years since we started.
That first day of abc's and 123's. The first official attempt at being solely responsible for his education. Having the papers of permission to teach 30 kids in public school made no difference in my confidence to teach this one, energetic, willful boy. It was an exciting, confusing and prayerful journey...for both of us. His comedy and capability kept me smiling, while his passion kept me on the edge of my impotent throne. Never did I rely more on my Jesus than in his teen years. Jokes about the teen years are funny...until you have one. Not that they are horrible, not at all...they are wonderful. It's the roller-coaster ride on the rails of thin glass that make for sleepless nights and worn out knees of prayer. How will it go? What will he do? Does he care?
Research papers of little thought, undone worksheets and wading-pool deep books of pleasure can get a mom down. Eventually though, as you keep the gems of good work, the light starts to shine. Leafing through dusty boxes of early school work kept, has reminded me of moments long gone, but forever etched in his memory. It's like I wasn't even there. I taught him this? He produced this? The boyish scribblings of dragons and ball games. His personality beaming through the paragraphs in obvious fashion. The playful doodles on the sides of the math pages. My red letters of instruction marking the pages. Years of learning sifted through and golden moments caught and preserved. That's what you must do in order to see the big picture. I had forgotten. I am now reminded.
It's not that he knows everything that he needs to know for life. Hardly. It's that he has practiced how to learn well over and over and over and over. A little better each time. Culling the information into the corner that is best for him. Finding his niche and training him up according to his bent and God's will. A privileged and most qualified teacher guiding because no other could know and love him more and be more motivated to drag him to success...whatever that is.
All the book knowledge and experiences can never compare to the development of character and spiritual wisdom. The enlightenment of who God is and a birth of love for Him has made every pang of raising him worthwhile. The increase of the Holy Spirit being given to him is my reward. It is all I need. I can pass the educational baton on to the Spirit now, knowing he is in perfectly Divine hands. Mine, wrinkling, shaking, guilty and folded in prayer. Letting go of the reins.
This mother teacher thing is heavy. It's joy and pain. It's desired and feared. It's of God, through God and to God.
My first graduate is upon me. An event I never really thought about much. It seemed too far away. Is he ready? Did we do a good job? Where are the awards, scholarships and calls from universities?? Snap my fingers...remember what I have learned. Success doesn't look like that. It looks like a young man rising early to seek the Lord, drumming praises, holding me protectively in my fear, loving siblings and honoring Dad. There are many books to be read and work to be done for him. My hope is that this foundation will warmly and strongly hold him up as he lives out his calling.
"Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body. Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind."