I have been blogging for years.
All of the sudden I feel I have been preaching for years. Sigh.
Where am I going with all this? (I don’t have an answer to that).
I have been homeschooling, or thinking about it, or having an opinion about it, for 12 years, even though only 5 of them have been really involved in teaching my daughters.
Where am I in this homeschooling journey? (I don’t know either)
Some days I write here or on FB, to fight the monotony of dishes that need to be washed, -constantly-, meals to be prepared, laundry to be done. Then there is the lessons. I enjoy teaching the girls immensely, which is not the same as to say this is not intensive, demanding, frustrating and yet magical, beautiful, intimate.
I give lots of advice, yet I wish I knew what to do next. Most days the answer to that question is just getting up.
I’m forever thankful I have a neighbor and friend who run/walks/talks with me 4 days a week. I have also blessed with my family at church, whom I see every Wednesday and Sunday, and more. I have friends in real life who are so generous, so loving, so giving, and I have friends in real life online, because online is real too, with whom I share the little and the large.
So there you have it. A rich life, with parenting challenges, wife and housewife obligations, with ups and downs, but always with Him as my Lord and Creator, Prince of princes, Alpha and Omega, Savior and Redeemer… always with Him at the head of my life (even in the deepest and darkest moments, or when my priorities are all messed up and I let life to swerve me.)
And then I read. I read to breath and live. His Word, and books. Not only. I also walk, and pray, and talk, and think. And it happens that, through the girls’ books and life I meet interesting people, sometimes a kindred spirit person.
We were reading Abigail Adams today when it is noticed that, at different times in her life, she felt lonely. Specially in her stay in France, she felt lonely in the midst of people. Misunderstood and probably neglected by the love of her life, John. She wrote that it was strange how one’s body can be in a place (France it was for her), and her soul in another (Braintree). For all we are reading about her, it’s clear she also read to live, and wrote, and felt all that we women feel. She was a mother, a wife to a young lawyer, the wife of a Statesman, She had many ups and downs but her character remained strong and gentle. Had she had a blog, maybe she would have found herself writing every day of April with her friends and blog pals. Who knows?