I stared at my dear youngest child the other day and got this awful sinking feeling. I have so much to teach him.
It has been a rough year. He’s not an easy kid. Eight kids is hard. Homeschooling is hard.
I. Am. Tired.
I have one more baby to potty train. One more baby to teach to crawl, to walk, to run. He won’t even use sign language yet. ‘Please’ isn’t even on his radar… I’d settle for him signing ‘more’. Or even just less screeching. I still have to teach him to sleep through the night.
I have three more kids to teach to read. Three more to teach to tie their shoes.
I have seventy-four more year-long math classes to teach in the next eighteen years.
It’s overwhelming. Exhausting. Hard to fathom.
But. Next year is not the next thing. Not even next week. Just tomorrow. I’ll teach another day of school, make another days’ worth of meals, mop the floor of I’m lucky, wash some more laundry. I don’t have to finish this today, or even tomorrow. I just have to do the next thing. I keep having to remind myself that. It’s a hard, hard season, but it’s just a season.
Here’s to doing what has to be done today, and being thankful for God’s grace in giving me what I need for this day.
Just do the next thing.
(Even if it’s making pancakes for supper because daddy’s gone for the evening. Besides, the baby loves pancakes… He ate three. Maybe he’ll be so full that he’ll sleep through the night for the first time in his short little life. I won’t hold my breath though.)