You’re prepared for a whole slew of posts where I process the emotions and practicalities of yet another senior year, right? This is “burst into tears for no reason” territory… and it’s also got its “I’m so glad this is your last year with me as your teacher” moments. Add to that logistics like making sure that the final transcripts get sent, the FAFSA gets filled out on time, and ordering announcements and well, I’m looking at a year where I need to talk it all out.
Having a senior means taking long, meaningful looks in the rearview mirror of the last 12 years of your life and on one hand, marveling that you’ve found your way to this place with your sanity still intact, and on the other, mourning the fact that it’s almost over. I can’t describe it, but if you’ve lived it, you know. It’s poignant stuff. It makes you smile even as the tears come. It make you almost forget the day when said child refused to write a word, let alone a paragraph, even under threat of Death or Dad—whomever made an appearance first. It makes you want to relive the day you spent wrapped in the last chapters of Swallows and Amazons, reading in the tent fort you created by the stairs, wishing it would never end. It makes you glad it’s all over… and still ache for just a little bit more.
These are my thoughts, at least, as I study the man cub who was once a blond little wisp now sprawled over two chairs at my kitchen table, headphones on, working his way through an economics course. I remember all of the hopes and dreams and prayers of those first days, and ponder what seeds God has planted in his heart through it all. I want my son to know how hard it has been, but also how beautiful, and how grateful I am even for the days when the last thing I wanted to do was read another paper on some obscure WWII battle.
Since I’ve walked this road before, I knew this season was coming. I also knew that I wasn’t alone; spend any time with another mom homeschooling a high schooler and you hear snippets of the same overflowing heart trying to make sense of it all. This summer, I funneled all that processing towards a final goal: a keepsake journaling Bible project.
The end result is Journaling the Journey, a guide for moms walking out this last phase of the homeschool season. All you need to start working through those messy things swirling in your head is a journaling Bible of your choice. Each month, you’ll read a verse and prompt. Then underline the verse in the Bible, and begin praying over what God is leading you to say to your child about the journey you’ve taken together, your relationship, His mercy in your days, and where you’re both headed.
Because sometimes you need a little more nudging to get your thoughts onto paper, each month also has suggested questions to get you started. If you’re feeling dry, simply answer a question or two and move on. If you find yourself flipping page after page, still pouring out your thoughts…all the better. There is no right or wrong way to create this keepsake. Each one will be unique, and each will be a treasure.
At the end of the year, present the Bible to your child. Make it part of a graduation gift, or press it into his or her hands as they head off to college in the fall. Like homeschooling itself, you may find that what you expected to have happen doesn’t quite pan out. God has a way of taking our good intentions and making them more beautiful than we could have ever imagined.
I do feel like I need to offer a small warning in offering this book— chances are, you’re going to cry. There’s no way to revisit a whole lifetime of memories both good and bad and not cue the waterworks. But friends, don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid of the emotions of this project, and definitely don’t be afraid of the opening of your hands as you set this person free to be who God has called him or her to be. This is a mighty work you’ve been part of, but your starring role in the story is coming to an end. From now on, you’ll be a co-star… then a recurring character. God created families forever, but our presence in the lives of our children was never meant to be one that directed their adulthood. Begin processing that now, and be prepared for the beauty of what comes next.