“And, as she fell asleep still thinking of violets and fairy rings and moonlight over the wide, wide land, where their very own homestead lay, Pa and the fiddle were softly singing,
‘Home! Home! Sweet, sweet home,
Be it ever so humble
There is no place like home.'”
-By the Shores of Silver Lake, Laura Ingalls Wilder
No better words to end our journey through the first five novels of the “Little House” series, and to send us off to sweet dreams on the first night in our new home after months of continuous change, moving, and uncertainty. On restless waters we sailed, searching faithfully for the warm beacon from a lighthouse in the distance, and finally pulling into a safe harbor.
I was flipping through my homeschool planner the other day, taking an end of the year inventory and assessment. Each turn of the page was a reminder of all we had been through this year. I was amazed at the extent, and realized not only did I need to gift myself grace in the areas I failed, but also, despite all the “interruptions” we experienced this year, learning happened.
There can be a heap of pressures and fears, from both external and internal resources, when you educate your children at home. This year, being our second year since venturing on this journey, I felt them so heavily and deeply, that at times the burden felt too great to carry. I am reminded now that it is not mine to carry. (1 Thess. 5:24; Heb. 13:20-21; Matt. 11:28-30)
Getting lost in the pages of another time and place was one of our anchors this year. It connected us, kept us grounded, and for a time we “lived” there. Everything I’ve read thus far about using whole living books to learn, was lived out in our homeschool. We will never forget our experiences with Laura, Mary, and Carrie, and Ma and Pa. They wove in so well to our own personal experiences this year, that they are forever connected.
Part of that connection is the meaning of “home.” We lived in several houses this year, but “home” was always where our heart was….and that was being together. I know, its cliche, but its true, and I can’t imagine any other way of experiencing this than having our boys “home.”