Memoir Monday: Full Time ~ Working for My Father

                                                       

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With Mother's Day on the horizon, less than a week away, 
I began thinking about this very special vocation 
with which many of us are abundantly blessed.......

and reflected:

Life is lived around here between slicing apples into turtle sized bites, one just rescued from certain death crossing a busy road bordering our development. And the supplying of a desperately needed Tupperware for grubby, muddy little boy hands to house a beetle, cricket or worm. 

            And generally coasting through our brimming and busy days around  ratios, circumference, the Pythagorean theorem,  Earth science reference tables, test tubes, microscopes, assorted, strewn-about art supplies, Paul Revere’s midnight ride, half written essays on the causes of World War I, vocabulary lists, scattered violin and piano sheet music, baseball game schedules, self imposed writing deadlines, cleats, mitts, a bottomless laundry basket, always-dueling John Wayne impressions, homeschooling paperwork, tests, workbooks and inexplicably multiplying piles of legos and tech equipment. Oh yeah. And lots of noise.

Despite all this though, and the fact that I never, ever get five uninterrupted minutes ( as all homeschooling Moms can also attest) and the fact that it's taken me four hours off and on to type to this point in the post due to life's demands ( demands which I loooove, yet wipe me out)  and that as I  type this, I'm mediating some sort of dispute over who's music stand is in who's bedroom and not in the den where he swears he left it and who's turn it really is to unload the dishwasher and really how could you possibly think that the turning of the plot in' The Impossible Astronaut' is the scene in which The Doctor says, .......okay,  well, you get it. When they start arguing over Stephen Moffat's true intent in season 5, you know it's time to throw in the towel for the day ...... Yup, here’s the thing: 

I don’t miss it. You know, working.  

For pay. Outside my home. I don’t want it back. Not anymore. I’m not looking to be fulfilled by looking beyond my home and my family. 

Is this too provincial?  Too June Cleaver-backwards? Well, June Cleaver sans pearls and heels. Because I'm not a  pearls and heels person. 

 That I choose to stay home and not only like, I love, revel in, am passionate about, feel blessed by what I do?

 That I am called to tend my home, keep the hearth, teach the children.

 And not part time.

 That I maintain the best living and learning happens in the heart of my home?

That despite feminine strides for “equality,” I say, “Take THAT, twenty-first century. You can keep the norms and expectations of our times. I’m not buying into this.”

Because I know, I truly know, without a doubt as do many, many Moms, growing legions of mothers, that the feminist agenda is harmful to women. It’s harmful to children and families. It’s harmful to the future of our country.

 I choose to work for Him. This is my calling.  

            

Is my homeschool brimming with charity, energy and momentum? Waves of productivity and swells of creativity? How about Thoreau-like jaunts into the woods to immerse in our art? Picture perfect? No way. 

And that's not really the point, is it?

            No, my life is real. And unkempt and disorganized, disheveled, sometimes undone, burnt, unvacuumed, tardy, unmet, unwashed, wounded and just plain, lacking something, sometimes. 

But what it doesn't lack is the love. and the purpose and the certainty that this is where I prefer to be.

Thank you for spending some of your precious time today

here at my home on the web! 

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Until next time,

~Chris

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