Our Homeschool Story

In life there are decisions that fall into different categories.

There are the everyday decisions — the ones that are second nature, like breathing. What to cook. When to leave. Which load of laundry to start first.

Then there are the decisions we have to think through.

There are decisions you make because they are convenient.
There are decisions you make because they are expected.
And then there are decisions you make because you are convicted.

For our family, homeschooling falls squarely into the third category.

When Conviction Meets Real Life

My husband grew up in Guatemala, where homeschooling isn’t really a concept at all. His school experience looked very different from what many American families expect. Children walked to school in the morning, came home by midday, ate lunch with their mothers, and were largely done with formal lessons for the day. Continuing beyond eighth grade was often a personal choice — usually aimed toward a trade or preparation for university.

So when I first brought up homeschooling, he was genuinely shocked. He carried an idealized picture of the American school system — the “land of opportunity” version — and didn’t realize how different the day-to-day reality can be depending on the district, structure, and the child. When I shared what I had personally seen while working inside the public school system, he was stunned. In some ways, the simplicity of what he grew up with sounded more balanced than what we were experiencing.

Still, he believed public school was necessary for our children. I strongly disagreed. We debated. I campaigned. He lovingly indulged me and agreed to try homeschooling.

And then reality showed up — in the form of a fierce, brilliant, strong-willed five-year-old who happened to be a miniature version of me.

You know how they say the best laid plans meet their match in real life? Try applying them to a child exactly like you — especially when you’re both oldest daughters used to being in charge. I was raised by the baby of the family. She was raised by me — and she was born ready to run where I walked. I admire her strength daily — even when she used it at five years old to argue that homeschool was terrible and she wanted to ride the yellow bus like the other kids… and honestly, even now when she challenges me.

I truly believe God gives us children who grow us, not just children we grow. Each of mine has shaped me — not only as a mother but as a person. One teaches me unconditional love, one joy, one freedom, one tenderness. They are all healing places I didn’t know I needed.

When I Relented

Back in 2020, we moved to our small town with that kindergartener, and if I’m honest, we were already clashing over learning styles from the very beginning. Strong will meets strong will is not for the faint of heart.

Even before that season, I knew something important about myself: after working inside the public school system, I knew it was not the right long-term fit for me as a parent-educator. That is not an indictment, it’s simply an admission of wiring. Some families thrive there. Some don’t. And that’s okay. Let me be clear before someone comes for me– I have nothing against public schools. I have dear friends who are teachers and friends whose children attend public school. It’s just not my preference or conviction and trust me I get judged harshly for where I stand more so than the other way around. 

As a mother, and probably before I was a mother, I always believed I would either homeschool or choose private school.

Then motherhood in action hit at full speed.

Three kids under five. Exhaustion. Postpartum fog. No private school option in sight. A reluctant learner who shared my temperament a little too closely. And suddenly, adjusting my convictions for the sake of survival and convenience started to feel reasonable.

So I did what many overwhelmed moms do.

I pivoted.

When we found a house in a school district I felt I could tolerate, I relented. No yellow bus — but a mix of in-school and virtual days. Structured schedules. The “normal” path.

And off to public school she went and a year later her brother went.

When Your Gut Won’t Be Quiet

I wish I could say I felt peace — but I didn’t. Not once. I functioned, but internally I wrestled. We kept going because that’s what responsible parents do, right? You push through. You assume discomfort is just transition and it’ll take getting used to. 

During that season I had another baby and a toddler at home. What had once been three kids five and under became four kids seven and under. Their learning and socialization was outsourced, and I tried to pour everything I had into loving them well outside of school hours. I packed lunches, showed up early to be the first in the pick up line, never missed a dress up day,  over-compensated in every way, and exhausted myself trying to quiet the feeling that something wasn’t right. I felt guilty for every unnecessary minute away from them. I was miserable. 

Then in 2022 — second grade — everything changed.

My oldest went to school and became extremely ill in late November of that year— pale, shaking, nearly passing out. Because she didn’t have a fever or wasn’t throwing up, the nurse didn’t call me. The teacher sent her back multiple times. Finally the teacher herself called, and I went and got my child.

Since this is a Christian lifestyle blog, I wish I could say I handled it like Jesus.. Well no I guess I did handle it like Jesus. Jesus in the temple — tables flipped albeit verbally.  Words were said–loudly. Very loudly. At five feet tall I showed the entire front office that height doesn’t indicate volume. The SRO escorted me out with a laugh — and later scheduled concrete work with my husband — small town life at its finest. The nurse who believed protocol outranked a mother’s judgment still avoids me. And I’m okay with that. Maybe I shouldn’t be,but I am still salty about that. I need to work on that–maybe, okay yeah I do. 

After that day, however,  my child developed a mystery illness. Bloodwork was normal. Symptoms were not. She stayed out the rest of the semester. The night before returning after Christmas break, she became so sick she nearly fainted and ended up in the ER. Her pediatrician,  also a friend, prescribed multiple stomach medications, wrote referrals, and told me plainly: if you can keep her out of school, do it.

We began hearing frightening medical terms — the kind no parent wants connected to their child.

When you are staring at your child with no color in her face and no answers, you do whatever it takes. 

We pulled them both out of school. Got a call from my sons principal saying I was doing him a great disservice and choosing one childs well being over the other, seriously? 

We isolated from germs.  We regrouped. We began homeschooling.

And almost immediately — she improved. The very day she learned she would not be going back, she began getting better.

Within one month — just one — she no longer needed the medications at all.

Mystery illness? Physical manifestation of overwhelming academic stress and state retention pressure being placed on a child who was not wired for that environment. My guilt? Heavy.

The Weight — and the Grace

There are moments in parenting that humble you to your core.

That was one of mine.

I had overridden my conviction for the sake of manageability — and my child paid for it physically. The what-ifs were loud.

But grace was louder.

She is still my anxious, intense, deep-feeling mini-me — did I not say she was exactly like her mother? — but now we manage those struggles at home, with margin and safety.

Conviction is not about never stumbling — it’s about turning when truth becomes clear.

The Unexpected Gift

What began as a crisis became one of the greatest gifts our family has received.

Homeschooling stopped being a theory and became our reality. We are thriving. We have chosen a private school type curriculum for our kids and they love it. We do all the things, we do no things, but the things we do? Are totally up to us. My kids? Brilliant. Advanced in some areas, working hard in others. 

I can say this honestly: I have never been more at peace as a mother than when I returned to what I knew was right from the start.

Somehow I became the homeschool “go-to” among my friends. I created a how to PDF because I was getting so many messages!  I now help lead a local socialization and field-trip group. Other families walk this road with us. My oldest is thriving. Her siblings are flourishing. My child born in 2020 has never stepped inside a traditional classroom. Several of our nieces and nephews now homeschool too — in our family this is normal, not the alternative. This is just life for us! 

Now when a new mama gets sent my way I warn her dont give up! Follow your heart!  I tell them my story and I them the truth: some years are better than others, some days are harder than others, some days you’re going to have it done 100% ! But every day you are a rock star! You are always doing better than you think, you’re not alone, and yes — some days you will feel like you stink at this. That’s okay. The hard days don’t hold a candle to what you gain.

Through it we discovered:

• A child who could learn without fear
• A home that could hold both healing and education
• A pace that honors how each child is wired
• A rhythm where faith and learning live together
• A mother who stopped outsourcing what she was called to steward

Homeschooling did not magically make everything easy. It made everything intentional.

Conviction Over Convenience

Conviction will often ask you to choose the harder road first — but the truer one long-term.

Convenience said: “This will make your life easier right now.”
Conviction said: “This is what your child needs.”
Culture said: “Follow the standard model.”
Conviction said: “Know your child.”

I am deeply grateful we listened when it mattered most.

Not because homeschooling is the only right choice for every family — it isn’t — but it was the right obedient choice for ours in this season.

Sometimes obedience looks like a kitchen table, a stack of books, a healed child, and a mother who finally stopped ignoring that quiet, persistent nudge in her spirit.

— Every Day Amen