Run with endurance

(Hint: even though my story is a homeschooling journey, this post is not about homeschooling.) ;)

This is our 11th year of homeschooling. This is also the first year that 2 out of the 3 of us involved were NOT excited to start the year. I was one of them.

I was simply not ready to end summer, to give up my lazy mornings and our pool days with friends. I didn't feel like writing lesson plans and re-learning Geometry or Biology so that I can keep up with our oldest. I didn't want to spend my time reading the introductions to various textbooks and teacher guides or figuring out how to teach this new curriculum. I just wanted to drink my coffee and read my book with bedhead until late morning when I might decide to shower for the day.

And then I read this: "Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us." (Hebrews 12:1b) And I had an epiphany, an "ah-ha!" moment! This job of educating my children is not a sprint, it's a marathon.

While I have never run a marathon, I have listened to runners talk about the wall they hit sometime after the halfway point, but before the end is in sight. And that's where we are in this homeschool journey. We are someplace past the halfway point, but still several years to go to graduate. I believe the lack of excitement my son and I feel is our wall.

This verse was so good for me because it reminded me that no matter what it is that God has called us to, it is usually a marathon. His call on our lives is rarely a sprint.

Fortunately, the surrounding verses give us the directions to run with endurance: "...let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith."

For me, my laziness and selfishness were the weights that were slowing me down. Sure, there was a time for enjoying slow mornings with a book and a cup of coffee, but that time is over and I need to let it go. Keeping my eyes on Jesus comes when I reset my focus from myself to Him and what He has called me to do. It usually involves some self-discipline--putting down my book to pick up His book, getting out of bed in time to spend time with Him before the busy-ness of the day takes over.

Your marathon may not be educating your children at home. Maybe it is the trenches of being a stay at home mom with young children. Maybe it is being a career woman who is asked to take on more. Or being single and wishing for a husband. Or being married and dreaming of having children. Maybe it is being a military spouse facing your umpteenth move and wishing the career was over. Maybe it is life after a career. Maybe it is a disability you face. Maybe it has nothing to do with what you DO and everything to do with who you ARE. We are all running a marathon.

What are YOUR weights that slow you down? How can you refocus your eyes on the prize?

Verse 2 goes on to say this: "Because of the joy awaiting Him (Jesus), He endured the cross, disregarding its shame."

We know there is great joy awaiting us in heaven. But I believe there is also great joy awaiting us here on earth as we show ourselves faithful and run with endurance. It's not a sprint. Push through the hard stuff, the wall. Do what you are called to do and do it with excellence, even when it is hard. Joy awaits.

Empty houses

As an Air Force family we have experienced more than our fair share of empty houses. The places have been an apartment, rentals, a home we purchased, base houses. Some, we have chosen; many have been chosen for us. No matter how many bedrooms or bathrooms or the state or age of the house, the empty house, upon arrival, holds our hopes and dreams for the next few months or years.

The empty house, at the beginning, is nothing more than a shell. It is not filled with our laughter and our memories, our conversations or growth, our arguments and forgiveness, our love. We have not experienced life here. Right now, it is just the place we will live. It is not "home".

We walk through the rooms and plan where we will place our furniture. We wonder where we will put the extra table and chairs or the big comfy chair Chris bought for me to read in--the one that fit perfectly in the house we first brought it home to, but has not fit perfectly anywhere else. Will the ceilings be high enough for the boys' loft beds? Will the kitchen fit all the paraphanalia I have collected over the years? Is there a wall for my favorite piece of art or Chris' awards? Where will we do school?

But, really, the important questions are: how much will the boys grow while we are here? Who will be our friends? What will the Lord teach us in this location? How will we grow and change and learn in this shell?

And then our household goods arrive and we fill the shell with the familiar and we begin life in this new location. The "house" becomes "home" and we fill it with laughter and love. We host family and friends, new and old, and introduce them to our new home and they become a part of this place. We watch our boys mature. We come and go as we go about our days. The house becomes a background, a stage, so to speak, for lives fully lived. We enjoy it and invest in it; we make it our own.

Until the orders arrive. Until we are told that we need to prepare to move. The movers arrive and unceremoniously pack all our belongings. Boxes fill all the empty spaces. The truck shows up and the boxes begin to disappear. And in that process, this shell that has become a home, begins to be a shell again. Only this time, it holds our memories and the fulfillment of our hopes and dreams as well as disappointments.

We walk through the house and remember when. We reflect on the months or years in that space, on the changes that have occurred in our family, in each of us as individuals, while we filled this shell and made it our home. Most often, we do not regret the good-bye to the shell. What we find difficult is the good-bye to all it has represented over the months or years we have been there. Good-bye to the boys' nurseries. Good-bye to the school room that held so much learning and laughter. Good-bye to the family room that hosted so many family movie and game nights. Good-bye to the porch where we shared our dreams for our future late at night.

The good-bye to the shell just represents a good-bye to the life we have fully lived in that season. A life we usually regret leaving behind. Regret......and yet......when we look back, we remember that this place was once new, this house was once a shell that held no memories and we look forward with hope because we can see how faithful God has been in filling not just the shell, but our lives here in this place that we came to call home. And we trust that God, in that same faithfulness, will help us fill a new shell once again until we can call that "home."

Defining myself

Lately, I have been defining myself by what I am "not" or by what I "just" am.

I am not my sister who will travel to South Africa to help lead a women's conference.

I am not a working mom whose job adds to the family finances.

I am "just" a stay-at-home mom.

I "just" homeschool.

I am "just" an Air Force wife.

These definitions of myself have been plaguing me lately. It happens almost once a year. I get buried in the piles of school books and assignments and day-to-day responsibilities and I lose perspective in the process. Everyone else seems to be doing bigger and more important things than I am.

Instinctively I know these things do not define me, but I was having trouble shaking this. I tried to keep it to myself, then I tried to talk to my sister about it, but it wasn't until this week as I finally took it to the Lord and asked, "What is it that I need to move on from this?" that I finally heard His answer.

"I chose you for this. I chose you for your husband. I chose you for your boys. You are who they need. You are doing what I created you to do in this season of your life. Other seasons will hold other things, but this is what this season holds. This is what I chose you for."

Oh! Well, that sounds important!

All my life, being chosen has been important to me. My life verse is "You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit." John 15:16

When I know I have been chosen for something, I stand taller, I walk with more confidence, I move with purpose. When I know I am walking out exactly what God has chosen me to do, I speak more kindly, I love more deeply, I laugh more freely, I am more at peace.

When I forget, I am a mess. And I have been a mess lately. The funny thing is, I don't want to go to a foreign country, or have a job or a million other things I think I should want. I love my role as a mom and wife, I take very seriously my job of educating our children. In general, I love my life! But when I compare myself to others who I think are doing more important things and when I view myself by the world's standards, I get discontent and a little depressed.

Each year when this happens, the Lord gently reminds me of this same truth in a little different way. This year, He spoke those words "I chose you for this" and then He reiterated it. Our church is reading various passages of Scripture together and today was the story of Esther. You know, the queen who was "chosen for such a time as this."

Then He sent these words in a novel I am reading "Look for what the Creator wants you to do. He wants to share His creativity with you. He wants to partner with you. You find what He wants you to do." I read those words and realized--I have found it!  

So, the next time you define yourself by what you are "not" or what you are "just", ask God how He defines you. What makes you stand taller? What makes you move with purpose? What makes you laugh more freely? What speaks peace into your weary soul? Maybe He will remind you that you, too, are chosen. Or maybe He will remind you that you are a daughter of a King. Or maybe, just maybe, He will speak exactly what your heart needs to hear right in that moment. Ask Him!