"Comparison is the death of contentment." It's a phrase I have kept myself focused on lately to keep myself bound to what I must do right now: abandon my dream of the perfect homeschool and help be a breadwinner for my family. I have played that phrase over and over in my mind. It's a phrase you may want to put away in your mind for safekeeping as well--in case you need it some day. Should life deal you a card you weren't expecting, it's a phrase that can be comforting as you deal with the realization that your life is not quite what you thought it would be.

I was impressed with homeschooling from the outset. The first time I heard about it, I felt it would be a wonderful option for our house full of boys. Full of curiosity and not enamored one bit with sitting at a desk inside a schoolroom all day, my boys would thrive in a homeschool environment where they could explore nature and pursue learning in an individual way. I was sure of it. The more I delved into the world of homeschoolers, the more impressed I became. There was, in general, a tremendous focus on family and the commitment to home educate. There was a love and a kindness from one family to another that I greatly wanted to be a part of. I also highly coveted the sort of life where mom is the center of the home life (nurturing, planning, organizing) and dad is the head of the home (providing, guiding, giving approval or redirecting). We made the choice to homeschool and we were on our way to that wonderful lifestyle I was beginning to wholeheartedly embrace.

If only life were so simple. It did not take long to see that life has tricks up her sleeve that will take some of us by surprise. I cried real tears over a mom I had never met. She was a fellow homeschooler with a house full of sweet children she was about to leave behind. She was dying with cancer. My heart broke for a homeschool mother whose husband decided that he didn't really want to be married anymore. She was left scambling to find a way to keep up the lifestyle she wanted so much. There was the family whose home burned, leaving them looking for the "where" and "how" to start again. I was bathed in sorrow to hear of a family who lost their child to an accident, stopped cold in their tracks at educating him in any shape or form. Then, there's me. Married to a man I dearly love, but who was diagnosed with a medical condition that requires we keep excellent medical benefits--benefits that my job could provide. Thus, I am forced to work more and be very selective about who of our children gets to homeschool and who will best thrive in a public, charter, or private school setting. It's not easy not having the "perfect" homeschool life.

When I first realized it was not going to work out for me to be fully at home, planning my days at my leisure, cleaning, teaching, and nurturing to my heart's content, I grappled with "why me?" However, I am of the mindset that I won't be given more than I can bear, and also that sometimes we must endure things to help us grow. So I purposed in my heart to find the good in the situation and to make it be the best it could be. Anything less would be a disservice to those I live among each day--my husband and my children. Just as I was awed at how homeschooling families reached out to help other homeschooling families who were dealing with real tragedies, I wanted to have the kind of spirit that would be an encouragement to my family and to anyone else who might be dealing with life's day-to-day struggles and unexpected situations.

It has taken me some time, but I think I can safely say that I am settled into our non-perfect life of homeschooling. Yes, I have to work, and, yes, some of my children must attend school outside of our home, but I have learned to take my homeschooling opportunities where I can get them. I have also learned that life most certainly comes in seasons. My mother's heart whispers to me in times of longing to be home, "this is only for a season." I hug my children and tell them to be strong and bear what we must bear right now.

Now, I want to tell you to be strong and encourage you to accept the part of your life that you cannot change right now, but put your back into making "perfect" all the things that you can! I certainly have much that I can work on perfecting in my little life. There is certainly no time to waste crying over what I don't have! One of my sons is heading into high school, is old enough to do much work independently and, in fact, has a love for independent work! He wants to be an architect. He has been able to continue to homeschool in spite of my working more hours. Ah, there's a silver lining in that dark cloud! My work has brought us wonderful benefits and has put a smile on my husband's face--a smile from having a burden lifted from his mind. Another blessing in the midst of the storm! My two youngest are thriving in their small public school, and the extra money we have has allowed them to take ice skating and swimming lessons. Another benefit! My husband has rolled up his sleeves and helped me to teach the children at night and on the weekends. My mother has offered to help watch the children while I work and help oversee the older ones through their lessons. More to be thankful for! In fact, the more I look, the more I see!

In closing, I want to remind you where we started in this little "talk." Comparison is the death of contentment. I find that only when I start looking at another's life and longing that it could be mine do I lose my focus. And, how very shallow of me to assume that others are facing no conflicts in their own "perfect" lives! My heart's desire to homeschool is no different than it was on day one when I first fell in love with homeschooling. I am committed to doing it to the fullest extent that I can with what I have been given to work with. May I remember to start each day with thankfulness (as I should) and the purpose of heart to be doing with all my might what I have committed myself to do; then I can have contentment that I am exactly where I should be.