WayfaringStrangers

 The summer stretches on, and here we are with a new school year approaching. This year is going to look quite different for us. After 4 years of homeschooling through Classical Conversations, we have at least 1 kid (probably 2) going to brick and mortar school in the fall. I'll write about that in a separate post. But even as we choose to continue homeschooling one of our kids, we'll be taking a break from CC. I love CC. I come from a classical education background, so I jumped in happily 4 years ago with only one cute 5 year old (his older brother was in 1st grade at public school). I liked the memory songs, the emphasis on geography, the hands on science and lovely art projects. Then we moved and found a new but very small CC community. These friends became very dear to us. I tutored (The CC term for taught) the 6 kids in our one class. The next two years the community only grew slightly (more dear friends), even during the madness of covid when many were turning to homescho

It is July and hot and the cicadas are singing their shrill tune. When I walk outside in the mornings to tend to the animals, the air feels like a warm bath. Any breeze is welcome. I pick an armful of black-eyed susans and hundreds of wild blackberries, and find bit of time in the day to make jam or freeze the bounty. We have been in a very difficult season in our home this year. 'Hardest we can think of,' we say. Looking back, there have been other trials, yes. Moves, exhaustion during new babies and toddler years, aching loneliness, extremely tight budgets. I always thought purchasing a home and moving while 9 months pregnant would take the cake. But this, this uncertainty, gnaws at us. Job loss has the underlying anxiety that makes us emotionally and physically exhausted. We know, we know , God loves us and is in control. And so what will be will be best, right? Even if... we have to move. Or sell the house. Or work 4 part-time crappy jobs to keep the house. What is He doing

 I'm in the shower, a hundred lists in my head, and you turn on Coldplay's Viva La Vida in the kitchen (only steps away in our small cottage). And I remember it was fall and we drove to Gettysburg and played that album over and over that day. The air was crisp and we were free. It was not perfect- we had no money and jobs we didn't like- and was that the time your car broke down? But we could drive and see and listen and then go home and sleep. Now we talk about how many eggs the hens laid and when we can sit down and apply for financial aid. And life weighs heavier and more real with our 4 boys. But maybe we can drive to Gettysburg soon. 

"Well, he officially got the diagnosis," I tell family and close friends in the days after we receive the very long report.  They all reply, with empathy, with the same question, "How are you feeling about it?" In the first days, I felt relief. Finally an answer to some of the difficulties. We peel back the layers of the ADHD symptoms and say, 'yes, that's him; it makes so much sense now.' I begin to think of the behaviors and difficulties in a softer light.  "We can finally get him some help!" is the general feeling. But weeks pass by, and it becomes so much more complicated. Now we have to make decisions. We are in a lapse of insurance as our family navigates an underemployment situation. We want to continue with counseling. Appointments are made, or need to be made, to see nurses and specialists. The real question is, where do we go from here? Any parent who has had to make big medical decisions knows the pull and stress of ALL THE INFORMATI