How Can I Help?

Photo by David Beale on Unsplash

We sat on a bench chatting about homeschooling while the mom shared how it's tricky to homeschool a K boy and an 8th-grade girl. "I can imagine!" I said. "I homeschooled for twelve years."

Then she looked me in the eye and asked, "You're a believer, right?" 

Not taking a beat, I looked into her eyes and said, "Yes."

Why? Why do I still do this?

When I fell into the job I have to leave this week, it was a full-circle experience. As I skimmed over the list of students, I saw names I recognized. The children of families I had homeschooled with were now homeschooling their own. I found myself in a culture I had left and naively thought, "Here's my chance to make a difference. I get to talk to a version of me 10-15 years ago." And sometimes, I did. 

But when it came to my faith or lack thereof, I stayed in the closet. 

Actually, I do know why I do this. 

I worried that if I said a simple, "No" or "I used to be" or "Not after 45 years", the conversation would stop. I wanted these mothers to trust me. And since I relate to how they think, I thought saying "Yes" was the easiest way to keep the conversation open. 

The problem is, "believers" start to trust each other in a certain way almost immediately. So when I acted like one, I received an earful of the lingo afterward. The example above was hardly the first time. But I would start to squirm and feel like I was betraying myself. I acted like I understood their choices. Which I did! But I also understand how these choices need to be held loosely because things don’t always turn out like we expect them to. Here are a few examples of what I mean.

1. I always pay attention to the brother in a group of sisters. I know that little boy works hard as he comes into the classroom in his muddy cowboy boots. The mom admits they're headed to a nearby town after this to "evangelize," and my heart sinks. I know too many children who express the horror of this experience as adults. And I look at that young boy and wonder what his passions are. What is he on this earth to do, and is it nurtured without his family's agenda? Nothing I observe says yes. But what do I say? I'll tell you below.

2. You guys, I unpacked a lot of material that feeds the Christian nationalism in our country. Yes, this is a problem in classroom schools, too. I recognized it because I bought it myself. In homeschooling circles, there's a belief that Western culture needs to be preserved. The problem is that often it means a bleached worldview. I rarely unpacked books that featured blacks on the cover except for maybe the random George Washington Carver or Harriet Tubman biography. It was bleached of colonialism and oppression and the founding fathers complicated relationships with slaves. I was blind to this when I was teaching my kids. But what do I say? I'll tell you below.

3. Oh, Mommy. You have got to let your babies go. I get it. I homeschooled for a lot of reasons, but one of them was school shooters. I was horrified that my first grader would go through lockdown drills. I wanted their innocence protected. I'm not sure this is a bad thing. If I homeschooled again, I might still keep them out of the early grades. But I was also shocked when I finally let go of my oldest (in his sophomore year!) how the local high school didn't hold his hand on anything. When I see moms hanging on much longer than necessary, my heart hurts. We don't realize we're hanging on to meet our emotional needs, not theirs. But what do I say when I see the enmeshment? I'll tell you below.

My favorite part of the job was knowing how to reach out to the kids. For example, I invited the only brother of sisters to help me unpack the school supplies once. He felt proud to support me because it was his comfort zone. And then I asked good questions. One of my go tos was, "Do you have any animals at your house?" It always got them talking. I would quickly learn if they lived on land or in an apartment. I saw if they talked more with nurture or a business sense. I knew the name and breed of their beloved dog. And I listened for burdens they were too young to carry. Even when I was in the thick of conservative culture, I knew children wanted to be listened to. So often, the adults in their life weren't great listeners, usually because we were just too damn busy trying to do too much. I don't think Christian homeschooling moms saw how much we were trying to control the narrative. I used to try to control my children's emotional experiences all the time. I, too, worked myself ragged to try and create Utopia for my children to flourish in without heartbreak. But I also showed them and their friends I was an adult who would listen, even back then. I liked being able to do that again. I believe that 8 year-old boy left feeling seen and heard.

I did try to be strategic in my conversations, as well, with the adults. I would say things like, "Yes. Beautiful Feet is a great curriculum. I love how they bring the most artful books together. I'm also so glad they choose racially diverse literature."

As for number three, and as readers of this blog know, letting go of my children has been the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I had to do it like no one I've met yet. I'm not on FB regularly anymore, but I, too, posted birthday greetings to my children (friends) well into at least their late teens. How long did I expect to do that? "This little baby of mine is turning 34 today!" 😩. In many healthy ways, my children wrenched themselves from my clinging hands. I did let them have independence in ways many of their peers could not. And my children soared out of the nest, often not looking back. But it came out of my skin, and my heart still aches for them to want me, trust me, confide in me. But I also ask myself, "Is that desire about my emotional needs or theirs?" If I'm honest, it's to meet mine. To love them best, I am responsible for meeting those needs elsewhere. All that to say, what did I say when I saw the enmeshment? "Yes, letting them go is so hard. But I’m glad I practiced doing it a little at a time. Loving them well looks very different when they're adults." 

I don't know if these little soundbites ever stuck or not. But it was so fulfilling to communicate clearly and practically about what I believe can hold children (and their moms!) back.

So how did I find myself surrounded the other day with homeschooling moms that also knew each other because they all attended church together? How did I find myself talking like I was one of them? "Oh, that's so great! I used to take full advantage of Vacation Bible Schools, too!" So, of course, she would look me in the eye and ask, "You're a believer, aren't you?"

Yes, I said. If only I could have said, "Yes, I believe you and your daughter aren't hearing the Holy Spirit, but a church culture that needs you to be less human. I am a believer in living fully human more than an unseen god now."

But I didn't. I listened and understood. I, too, remember telling my Bible study that the Holy Spirit told me to stop watching ER. I remember that who I was at 40 would never recognize me at 52. I believe the 40s can kick a lot of coping mechanisms to the curb, so I want to tell them to expect something to be pried out of their clenched hands. But I don't. I couldn't have heard that either when I was 40. But I want them to remember me 10 years from now and know I'd be safe to return to. 

Homeschooling Mom, I've been there. I'll be here if you need me. No judgment. Just empathy. But as I drive home, I will probably whisper under my breath, "I wanted to tell you so."