The How

The Lord has been leading me, gently, on to a deeper place of remembering over the course of these last few weeks. After a summer spent rediscovering and ruminating (again!) on our Why, He has pulled my focus back to our How.

I’ve realized, over the course of this busy first quarter of the school year, that I’ve developed boxes to be checked, and a to-do list that is more about checking off skills achieved and things accomplished than moments appreciated and hearts shaped. In other words, I’ve strayed from our calling, our life, our journey, and grabbed hold of one meant that was never meant to fit us.

No wonder it has seemed so shallow. These were waters in which we were never called to wade.

For the record, the burden of this has been all mine. As I’ve scurried around like a rat laser-focused on a bit of elusive cheese, my husband has done his best to beckon me back from adequate bowl of porridge I was intent on serving to seeing the banquet of rich delicacies spread on the table:

It’s o.k. The interruption was the lesson today.
An hour and a half spent practicing violin is not time wasted, love.
Spend the afternoon outside. The math lesson will be there tomorrow.

And on, and on, and on. In the midst of trying to balance all the things, I’d lost sight of the slower pace true wonder requires, and missed out on simple being that can’t be accounted for in terms of taking yet another step forward in a Language Arts curriculum. There just didn’t seem to be time.

Sometimes, I am very, very slow to hear. So God grabs me by the ears and forces me to look His goodness straight in the face and see all that He has to offer my children… and me. And friends, it is much, much deeper than a math lesson.

So, Friday, we went to the zoo. We marveled at an elephant for a good, long while, watching him stretch his trunk on the ground, to a place he could not see, and meticulously sweep a pile of hay into a careful ball that he then handily fit into his mouth. We lost ourselves for a bit amongst the reptiles, and watched a brown bear sleep, trusting his perch as he surrendered himself to rest. We counted zebras. We read every sign, and laughed and talked and generally had a good time.

Then we came home to hot cocoa and cider, and my husband read the next chapters in A Dog of Flanders (affiliate link) to us as we nibbled on a loaf of homemade bread. We ended up discussing the artwork of Peter Paul Rubens and some church history.

All in all, it was a lovely day. A rich day. A peaceful, restful day. In my lesson planner, I wrote “Zoo Field Trip.” Academically, it counts. But on my soul, I wrote, “Creation. Love. Wonder. Warmth. Joy. Experience.” And that, I think, counts even more.