Recess is running a little longer than usual and they are all out there, in the yard, where I can see them from the window.
For an hour, I can imagine that this morning’s homeschool experience really was a roaring success and that we still don’t have math to work on this afternoon.
They’re mighty easy to love when they’re out there and I’m in here.
When I’m in here, and it’s just me and a cup of special delivery coffee, I can pretend that we’re OK.
That I’m OK.
I can pretend that everybody likes everybody all the time.
That I don’t get crazy mama mad when I can’t teach algebra or fractions or long division.
I can forget that just 2 hours ago, I wanted to throw crayons and erasers at Isaac because he wasn’t taking me seriously.
And let me be honest for a second (I like honest.), if I could rewind the tape of this morning and watch it with a bowl of popcorn, I don’t think I would take myself too seriously either.
Because really, it’s just math and they are just kids and we are so all so jacked up (Can I really just write that? Is that even a written word?) that I don’t know how we manage each day without throwing stuff.
We’re a mess.
A big ole’, sloppy mess with runny noses and dirty fingernails and lots of math pages with eraser-made holes.
And somedays, when they’re outside and I’m inside, I kinda like our holes, the ones on paper and the ones in our souls.
They remind me how much we desperately need Jesus to fill them up.
And believe me, today, we have gaping holes everywhere.