So what’s the point?

Seems like I’ve been desperately throwing this question toward Heaven quite a bit lately.

Trying to read a one page story to the boys for Bible, I’m interrupted four times by girls needing help with school and forgetting to not interrupt; by the phone ringing; by the sounds of a toddler in the bathroom–a room where she can do unbelievable amounts of damage; by the boys themselves who have dissolved into silliness in the midst of all the interruptions.


What’s the point of trying?

Trying to keep up with our daily Bible reading while Daddy is not home, I’m interrupted seven times by the toddler dumping out a box of cereal in the pantry; by the preschooler falling off the couch on his head because he was hanging upside down off of it; by one sister who is horribly offended by the foot of the other sister, which happened to barely brush against her leg; by the dog scratching at the door to be let out, only to scratch to be let back in exactly 94 seconds later.

What’s the point of trying?

Trying to create and maintain a predictable, repeatable weekly routine for school, I’m interrupted by doctor’s appointments; by chiropractor’s appointments; by errands that need running, meaning we have to leave for Paducah two hours earlier, cutting out all of afternoon school; by nights when three kids wake up at three different times for three different reasons, meaning Mom got no sleep until 5:30, when she slept soundly until the sounds of children woke her at 8:34 instead of her alarm waking her at 6:15.

What’s the point of trying?

Trying to make family dinner together a priority, to the point of eating at 4:00 some days and 7:30 other days just so we can still eat at home together on nights the kids have activities, I’m interrupted by having to tell each kid exactly how many bites they have to take in order to be acceptably “done”; by two children who are allergic to sitting still and must be told eleven times to sit back down; by at least one spill per meal; by at least one argument over who was talking first; by the toddler dipping her fingers in her ketchup then touching everything within reach; by no less than five trips back into the kitchen to get things I forgot or more drink or extra paper towels or just to pray for the sanity necessary to finish out this meal.

What’s the point of trying?

Trying to show my children that worshipping together in our pew is important, I’m interrupted by two siblings entering a battle of the elbows; by three requests to go to the bathroom; by an average of four dropped hymnals per service; by a couple of frantic hunts for a pen; by one child apparently needing to take every paper out of her bag, noisily refold it, and put it back in right when Preacher Daddy is getting to the application of the whole sermon.


What’s the point of trying?

Raising kids is not easy.

That’s probably the understatement of the year.

Trying to train my children in the way they should go, to raise them in the fear and admonition of the Lord, to parent them in a way that shows them my fierce, unconditional love for them and how that is only a mere shadow of God’s fierce, unconditional love for them, I’m interrupted by my sin; by their sin; by life in a fallen world.

So what’s the point of trying?

I’ll be honest. I’ve had some hard days lately. This has been the hardest school year yet. It’s the first time schooling five kids, the toddler is too old to nap during both school sessions and too young to do school or entertain herself for three straight hours, the oldest has harder work and can no longer go solo as much as she has in the previous couple years. Not to mention getting way off track when my back went out last fall.

So many days I’ve cried out in my heart, “Lord, what’s the point of this?!? How is this doing any of us any good at all?!?”

Today, we happened to have “one of those” Bible times, “one of those” school days, and “one of those” dinner times.

So what’s the point?

I think it’s no less than this (and probably a whole lot more):

They are catching tiny little tidbits of what I’m trying to give them, whether it seems like it in the moment or not. The Bible says that God’s word will not return void. There are no disclaimers about “unless it’s delivered with 14 interruptions.” When I keep trying, day after day, to read the Bible to my kids, they are getting the message that reading the Bible is so important, we won’t quit doing it even when it’s hard to do each day. And for every chapter we read, a sentence or two is bound to stick with them.

When I keep trying, day after day, to juggle five kids’ schoolwork and get to each kid’s questions in the order they are received, they are learning that they will be helped, but they must be patient and courteous, and use their time well while they wait. They are also getting the message that schooling as a family is a priority for us, and that we will persevere even though it’s certainly not easy because we think the benefits far outweigh the cost. And for every crazy day we have, we usually manage to pull out at least three or four “A” papers, so they are learning something.

So I keep going amidst the interruptions, amidst the chaos. The rewards are rarely immediate, at least as measured by things getting easier and smoother and calmer and more like I imagined they’d be. But then, right in the middle of a frustratingly loud and unproductive morning, one of my kids will come give me a hug for no reason, or I’ll find a picture of two stick figures that says “I lov Momy,” or I’ll look up to see two kids snuggled up together in the recliner reading, or two of them will tell me that they just prayed for their sister who isn’t feeling well, or the preschooler will subconsciously answer the catechism questions along with the big kids, or the first grader will finally read a whole book by himself with no help on any of the words.

And all the sudden, I see a little glimmer of the point.


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One Response to So what’s the point?

  1. Pingback: A homeschooling milestone | The Beautiful Ordinary

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