A frequent topic of discussion around the Thixton home has been homeschooling. Right now, Chloe goes to public school just a few minutes from our house.
I'd like to start by saying that we are happy with her school. We love the VP's heart for the children; the staff is very friendly and helpful; and her teacher has been amazing this year. We have no complaints about the school.
This fact, in and of itself, somehow gives me more peace as we discuss the homeschooling option. Private schools in this area are crazy expensive. So our only choice is homeschool or public school. I'm so grateful that it is truly a choice. We don't feel any pressure to homeschool because we know that, if we decide to leave her in public school, she is in a great place.
Chloe is doing well. She has friends. She makes A's and B's. She seems relatively happy.
So why would we even consider it? That's a questions I have been asking myself for over a year now. Why does this option of homeschool even enter my mind when she's doing fine where she is? Why is it something Brandon and I are even thinking about?
So last night, I sat down and wrote out all the reasons "why." There are many reasons (and some of them I may write about in future posts). But the one that pricks my heart - the reason I can't seem to let go of the whole homeschooling idea - sounds something like this:
I still want to be the primary voice in her life, at least for a few more years.
She will spend the rest of her life listening to the voices of world. Teachers. Friends. Enemies. Music. TV. Magazines. And many of those voices will tell her that she is not enough... or that she's too much. They will tell her she's too quiet or too loud. She's too skinny or too fat. They will talk to her about her complexion and her bra size and her hem length and her shape. But more than that, they will talk to her about heart, and they will tell her that the good girl comes in last. They will tell her that she can (and should) use her body to pay for love and that her esteem is only as good as the people who like her. They will give more value to her grades than to her character, and they will define her success by her job, her car, her house, her bank account, and her social life.
For the rest of her life, there will be voices telling her - shouting to her - that she is not enough... or that she's too much.
And in my heart - with all of my being - I want to drown out those voices for a few more years. I don't want to shut them out completely. She will still have teachers, and friends, and enemies, and music, and TV, and magazines. They will still be speaking into her life. But I want my voice - and the voice of my Father - to be the loudest, most important voice for a few more years. So when she is finally "in the world", and when those voices from the world start telling her she's not enough, she will hear my voice - and the voice of my Father - ringing in her ears: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." When they tell her she is too much, she will hear my voice - and the voice of my Father - shouting down the world: "The godly are as bold as lions." And when some boy or some magazine or some song lyric tells her that her body is only worth the love she can earn with it, she will hear my voice - and the voice of my Father - whispering in her soul: "But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people
for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him
who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light."
I have such a short window of time that I am allowed to be that voice - the voice of my Father - in her life. Eventually, she will make her own choices. She will choose what voices she will and won't listen to. But for a few more years, I have the opportunity to guide her through those choices, to be the voice that matters most.
How can I pass that up?
"In the world, but not of the world."