by Rachelle Shonwise
Have you ever looked at a day spreading in front of you with a hundred things already clamouring for your attention and wondered what was most important? Or looked back at a day of responding (reacting more often than not in my case) and wondered if the things that demanded your attention were really the most important? As homeschooling moms (and dads, but that’s a perspective I have yet to experience), there are a myriad of urgent things pulling our attention this way and that. There’s the house to clean, run, organize, and maybe even decorate. There are meals to be planned, shopped for, prepped, cooked, served, and cleaned up. There are people to be cleaned, listened to, read to, taught, encouraged, held, and driven to places. There’s schooling planning to be done (or at least thought about), curriculum to be evaluated, bought, and (hopefully) implemented. There are ideas to consider and then communicate. And that’s all without really taking into consideration life outside of our kids and households!
Some days I miss the simplicity of the diaper days– the days when life was crazy, but I knew I’d changed the diapers, read to the kids, and kept them all fed, and that was the most important. Of course, I then remember the struggle of having multiple urgent needs pulling me more ways than I was capable of going, and then remind myself that every stage has its joys and challenges. If the truth be told, it doesn’t matter which stage of life I’m in, I resonate with Anne Morrow Lindburgh when she longs for, “a ingleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out these obligations and activities as well as I can. I want, in fact—to borrow from the language of the saints—to live ‘in grace’ as much of the time as possible.” Isn’t that what each of us desire on some level? To know what a rich and sustainable life looks like, a life that ends with “Well done, good and faithful servant”?
I think to find that clarity and singleness of purpose we have to start first with the why, and then with the how of our calling. Matthew 28:19-20 says, “Go and make disciples of all nations, teaching them to observe all I’ve commanded you.” Jesus’ final command to His disciples before He left was simply to continue what He had started—making disciples. Every one of us has a mission, and the foundation of every mission is that call to discipleship. When we become parents, our mission field sharpens into focus with our kids as our first priority. While I’ve found that God uses this hidden, intensive discipleship program of parenting to prepare us for a mission field outside the home, as long as we have kids, discipling them is our first responsibility. Our “why” is to fulfill that calling to discipleship.
Discipleship is the act of doing life shoulder-to-shoulder and face-to-face with another, and using that life to point them toward what is good, true, and beautiful, and ultimately, to God. But here’s the kicker. You can only give what you have. You can only teach what you know. And you can only model what you see– what is filling your mental vision. This means our “how” has to start a little closer to home. To disciple well starts with a commitment to personal growth and an understanding of what it means to allow the life of Christ to live through us. To worry less about curriculum and parenting styles and more about keeping
our eyes on Christ.
In essence, a life of clarity and purpose begins with being before doing; with making space to fill our hearts and minds with what is good, true, and beautiful, so we have something to share. I am reminded of Jesus’ interaction with Mary and Martha during His time on earth. Jesus commended Mary’s choice to sit at His feet and learn, to even step out of the bounds of what society found acceptable in order to hear His words and be in His presence. This doesn’t negate doing—on the contrary, our sense of peace and confidence in the doing comes from first being transformed by His presence.
It’s a funny thing really, the fluid nature of time. So often I think I don’t have time to be quiet, to sit and read, to journal and pray, to listen to the still small voice of the Holy Spirit. And yet, when I do take that time, it repays itself tenfold in clarity of purpose, in peace, and in the ability to remember who I am in Christ. So much of my stress is uncertainty and worry about what might happen or what the most important thing is for me to do. Often the thing that is most needful is not the loudest or most demanding action, nor is it often the thing I feel like doing. More often than not I want to DO something concrete and measurable, rather than building rhythms of slow, hidden heart work that don’t seem to bear fruit for years. I was recently challenged and encouraged by this reminder from Reclaiming Quiet:
“We have to live in such a way that knowledge ripens in body as well as mind, in affection as well
as word, as we mold our lives by eternal rhythms and shapes rather than those of a fallen world.
“We are asked to shape our lives, our time, our attention by habits and rhythms radically different
from the windblown fury of the broken world. This means an entirely alternate shape of life, not just
the subtraction of screens and distractions but the embrace of prayer, of daily wonder, of listening, of
trust, of celebration that roots us moment by moment in that deep, watchful quiet that ushers us
into the presence of God.”
Building habits of quiet, of sitting in the presence of God and doing the work of excavating the lies and fears that are bombarding my mind, and then bringing them before Him to be remade is the work. Investing time to find Scripture that speaks truth to the lie I’m believing and worshipping Him for what He says is true (as opposed to what I feel) transforms me and enables me to have something to share with my kids. Sara Hagerty sums this up so perfectly in Adore:
“Adoration is where we bring our raw vulnerability– our ‘what I actually believe about You, God’– to
the place of His truth, expecting Him to change us…Adoration is not an exclusion of our emotions.
Adoration never requires us to shut down our emotions. On the contrary, it invites us to bring
them– all of them– to God. God does not want our polished pretenses. He wants our whole selves,
and He wants us to come honestly. So He invites us to wrestle.”
This is the most important work. Choosing to courageously face our doubts, fears, and questions and doing the hard work of wrestling with God that will allow His life to be lived through our unique personality, circumstances, and family. This doesn’t mean perfection —far from it. Our kids don’t need perfection, they need to see us running with our frailty to Christ.
“(Your kids) don’t need you to be a perfect example of Christlikeness. Your goal is not for them to be your disciple, after all. They need you to point them to the One who is worthy of following. The daily battles of discipling may make you wonder whether you’re toiling in vain. But keep pressing in. You can’t expect a harvest during planting season. Concentrate on reaching the heart of those you’ve built relationships
with, and time will take care of the rest.”
Our job is simply to allow the Holy Spirit to work in us, to faithfully do the work He brings to our attention each day, leaving the outcomes in His hands, and trusting Him when He says, “He who began a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.” May we keep our eyes fixed on Christ, sitting at His feet as a disciple first and then allowing His life to make disciples through us
Rachelle Shonwise is a third generation homeschooler, mom of five boys and one daughter, ages 7-16, and has been married for seventeen years to her favourite person, Josh. They have run a plumbing business for the past fourteen years and are currently transitioning into pastoring the Wimborne Alliance church.
Rachelle loves reading, gardening, and people. Nothing fuels her tank so much as engaging in a good discussion about ideas with others.
