I’m Blessed

I know it’s Labor Day, and schools around here aren’t starting school tomorrow, but we’re starting today.  It just works for us.  I got my lesson plans set for the week.  We have worked through our lessons differently each year.  Some years I have detailed schedules charted out, and last year each child had a “to do” list that they worked through in their own time.  My personality is more go-with-the-flow and Silje’s personality craves structure.  So she requested this year that we returned to a charted schedule for school subjects.  Reluctantly, I wrote out a new schedule, one for home days, and one for days we go to town.  I kept it as loose as I could.

Still, as we start school today, I’ve been scared all weekend that it just won’t work.  The little girl will need her diaper changed during a grammar lesson, or nap time won’t go as scheduled, etc.  Some subjects may run long, and others we may not get to at all.  Yes, I recognize the need to have more structure, and the security it brings the kids, but I also see the need to be flexible, and meet the needs of the moment as well.  It’s an impossible balance to achieve.

I guess that’s what’s been bothering me.  I want this school year to be perfect.  I want it to be glorious.  I want my children to remember this school year in their old age as one of the best years of their lives.  If only they didn’t get in my way of making this happen so much…

This obsession with perfection has been haunting me.  It’s so impossible.  I look at this new schedule, and I think: “It’s never going to work.  Why do I even try?”  I want to throw out the schedule, because flying by the seat of my pants is something I can do.  It drives my kids mad, though.

This tension between structure and freedom, perfection and failure, law and gospel, has been mulling in my brain for a few weeks.  In Christ, it is all perfect.  It is all complete.  But it isn’t, is it?  I still have to teach my kids.  My day still falls apart.  I fail my kids constantly.  Wrapping my mind around the idea that Christ has said, “It is finished” is still so difficult for me.  As a Christian who grew up in the church and was mentored by so many people of faith, I’m still struggling with it.  The idea that we don’t have to perform, we don’t have to please God.  We don’t have to be perfect because he was perfect for us.  He has done it all for us.  It’s one of the most profound thoughts there is.

I had a moment of clarity this weekend when I was driving Silje over to a sleepover at her friends’ house.  She was talking about school starting, and I admitted to her that I was a little nervous about school starting.  When she asked why, I said, “Well, we’re doing this schedule this year.  And it’s good.  We need more structure.  Structure is good.  But it can be bad.  Like, imagine if America had no laws.  Everyone could do whatever they wanted to everyone else.”

“That would be scary.” She said.
“Right.  So no laws is bad.  No structure is bad.  But what about when this structure just chokes you.  It’s like this hard law that has no compassion and no wiggle room.  That’s bad too.”

“Like in Les Mis.” she said.

Yes, yes.  Like in Les Mis.  Knut and I took Silje to see Les Mis on stage this summer, as our local community arts theater put it on, and several people from our church, including our pastor was involved in it.  It was one of the most spectacular plays I have ever seen, and has always been a favorite of mine, but this performance was just amazing.  I would expect this level of acting and singing…oh my goodness the singing…in some big city theater.  It was just amazing.

Since we knew so many people involved, we asked them beforehand how they deal with a few of the more delicate story lines, and how child appropriate would it be if we brought Silje.  We heard there was about 2 swear words, and they handled the prostitution pretty tastefully.  We prepared her for some of these scenes ahead of time.  Plus I prepared her for the violence of the battles and that there may be guns shooting fake bullets, and some blood perhaps.

“It’s okay, Mommy.  I can handle it.  I’ve seen Annie.”

Bless her.  Yes, she’s seen the movie Annie.  She thinks she’s seen it all now, since that movie has a drunk woman and some intense scenes.  Bless her.

Anyway, when we were in the car on the way to the sleepover, and I was sharing with this 10 year old how I was nervous about the schedule, because I knew it would fail.  I knew there would never be a perfectly kept day.  I didn’t want her perpetually frustrated that our day isn’t going how it is written.  I wanted her to know that I recognized her need for structure, and I was scared of failing her.  You see, it’s impossible to keep the law.

Just like Les Mis.  If you don’t know the story, you must immediately remedy that.  This tension is so loud throughout the whole play/book.  Most of all, besides a tearful story of redemption, it’s a story of the world’s desperate need for grace.

“It’s okay Mom.”  She told me.  “We’ll have the schedule, but grace will rule the day.  It always does.  I’ll stay flexible.  I don’t want to be like that police officer in the play.  What was his name?”

“Javert.”

“Yes, Javert.  He clung to his law so fiercely, that when he was offered forgiveness, he didn’t know how to handle it and ended up killing himself.  I felt so sorry for him.  It’s like forgiveness broke the law in his mind, and got in the way of justice.  The main guy…?”

“Jean Valjean?”

“Yeah.  He was a good guy, and he knew that compassion was the most important rule to keep.”

My goodness, she blesses me.  She’s only 10.  She continues to be an old soul.  Yes.  Compassion will be the most important rule.  Grace will rule our house…it always does, according to her.

I’m blessed.