What Tony Saw

We have an old friend from Canada named Tony. My husband first met him on a hut-to-hut ski tour long before the two of us were an item. When I met Tony for the first time, I didn’t really expect him to become a meaningful person in my own life. But I love Tony. He just has a way with people. He’s intuitive, flexible, and kind, one of the most encouraging and reflective souls you’ll ever meet. He’s traveled everywhere, loves the outdoors, puts olive oil on everything, and he has captured some of the most the most unbelievable portraits I have ever seen. You can pick up with Tony right where you left off, even if it’s been years in between. I could tell from the moment I met him, Tony believed in me and my soon-to-be husband. Even if he had his doubts our life or aspirations, he never let on. He championed the life we were setting out to build.

Over the years Tony has drifted in and out of our life, the way old friends do. We always try to keep in touch with a Christmas card or the occasional message. Last summer, he happened to be in the midwest and stopped at our house for brunch. He met our two youngest kids for the first time and toured our home and garden. He saw, at least for a few hours, where 15+ years of life had landed that young couple just starting out so many years before. In a brief moment where it was just the two of us in the kitchen, he looked at me and said, “Wow, Brianna, look at your life. Your kids are safe and happy and loved. Mike is thriving. You have really achieved the vision you had all those years ago. It’s rare, someone who can do that.”

I’ve found myself reflecting a lot on Tony’s words this week as we completed nine full years of homeschooling, and for me, 18 years of teaching. All four kids were home with me full time this year, spanning from 8th grade down to Kindergarten. And I have to say, it was our best year yet. 

Back when I had babies and toddlers, homeschooling felt exhausting. I was constantly pulled in a million directions, rarely able to start and finish something in one sitting without interruption. There were many days I wanted to quit. But I kept telling myself, “When everyone is school-aged, when we’re all doing school every day, it will be easier.” 

I was right. This was the first year I wasn’t fighting the battle of having a little one around. I loved those ages and stages, but I am thoroughly enjoying every moment of being officially past naps, potty training, and tantrums. We are truly in school-aged territory across the board.

My two younger boys are not so little anymore, but still full of wiggles and short attention spans. They are a source of daily joy. This year I really embraced the basics with them and let everything else be a bonus. I told myself I couldn’t teach four kids at home if I tried to do everything perfectly, so I prioritized the big 3: reading, writing, and math. We did a lot of school on the floor, upside down, or in between sets of jumping jacks and push ups. Their vocabulary has boomed this year, along with their enthusiasm for life. Everything with them is explosive, extreme, ultimate, and mega. I love watching these two come alive like little boys should, full of questions, curiosity and loud, boisterous play.

Fifth grade brought incredible independence for Ayla. She started two online classes this fall and honed some good study habits through those. For the first time this year I really saw her take the reigns and initiative to get things done. She’s sharp, creative, and learning to embrace the unique things that make her so wonderful and different from her brothers. A sculpture she entered in an art show won Best in Show, giving her a healthy glow of both pride and confidence. The most growth has come in her ability verbalize how she’s feeling when situations become overwhelming. Instead of blowing up or storming off, she’s able to say “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just dreading doing this and feel like a baby asking for help.” I’m so proud of her maturity in this area and know it will serve her well as the rigors of middle school push her limits. 

For Crew, this year was a test for high school. He took a couple high school classes and earned a few credits alongside the rest of his 8th grade load. All around, he’s a positive teenager with impressive study skills. He thrives on academics and learning. Like his mom, he’s a total bookworm. Ninth grade is coming fast, and we plan to homeschool through high school. Crew has a lot of interests and ideas for what is shaping up to be a limitless and bright future. As time goes on, I see his life coming into a soft focus. A little sharper, a little clearer as he grows. In only a few years until he will find himself on that threshold of adulthood, making challenging decisions about his life and the trajectory he wants it to go. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually do believe he’ll be ready when the time comes.

Mike dipped into a phase of professional and physical burnout this fall. A slow burn of work-related stress robbed him of much needed sleep, culminating in the perfect storm of frustration, self-doubt, and exhaustion that plagues the tenacious, creative types. He kept pushing through, but in the end he really needed rest. He took some time off from the gym, prioritized recovery, and spent some time internally reflecting on more sustainable ways to manage the stress of a growing family and a relentless career. As a wife, it was hard to watch my usually positive, energetic husband struggle. But it helped us both see that sometimes things feel hard because they are hard, not because you’re doing something wrong. It’s important to recognize hardship for what it is and allow yourself the space to adjust course when the suffering becomes too costly.

Even without little ones, home education feels like a perpetual game of Twister for me. It seems I’m forever bending myself into some strange contortion to manage it all. I’ve gotten good at the game. I’m more flexible, better at anticipating the unknowns, better at asking for help and remembering my own needs in the daily grind. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t daunted by the phase ahead. I’ll have four kids spanned across elementary, middle, and high school. Despite my experience, the pressure is enormous.

At times, I look around at others my age and compare myself to them. Many have thriving careers, leading their fields with influence and income worthy of their hard work. Most juggle families, too. Sometimes I long for the greener pastures of a more traditional choice: the recognition, the collaboration and teamwork, the professional development, the regular paycheck. Culture places a lot of pressure on us to conform to a norm. Either choose career or parenthood, or if you’re really ambitious, you go for both. Either choice is fine as long as you remember the golden rule: you can’t lose yourself in any choice you make. Above all, you must always be your own person and put yourself first, no matter your path.

But my life educating four kids at home contradicts both rule and norm. Our choice required me to put parts of myself on a shelf for a while and to chart a path outside of cultural parameters. For a long time, I planned to eventually go back to that shelf, dust things off, and reinvigorate what I left behind. But as I’ve revisited that place over the years, I find myself less and less interested in what I left there. Life has shaped me in new ways, bringing with it all the rewards and challenges I always imagined. Despite the many days I want to put my kids on a bus and have 7 hours to myself, I do believe strongly in the choice we’ve made. I’m glad to spend my time doing it, but even now, nine years later, homeschool-mom doesn’t define who I am. And I think that’s the reason I’m so happy in life.

As our friend Tony observed, my dream and passion has always been to contribute deeply to the highs and lows of the growth and success of others. I can’t ever remember a time where I wanted to do anything else. Whether it’s teaching in the classroom, homeschooling my own kids, supporting my husband’s business, or helping someone at my kitchen table grapple with the words of scripture, I thrive on helping others grow. It makes me come alive. God has perfectly designed and prepared me for the very thing I have spent my life doing.

Tony’s words were a rare gift to me that day. He could see past the cliche, homeschool-mom exterior and marvel at the real me. He saw that the homeschooling, running a busy house, playing chauffeur, laundress, cook, curriculum director, spiritual advisor, guidance counselor, business consultant, reading buddy, and just plain old mom—those are all simply the beautiful side effects of my life’s work. He celebrated something remarkable in my life, something I often fail to recognize myself. 

Culture would have me believe that the thriving people around me are thanks to what I gave up. A worthy sacrifice for my own dreams deferred, but a sacrifice nonetheless. But our wise old friend framed what he encountered as a highly esteemed accomplishment, evidence of my lofty dreams achieved. He saw the living embodiment of my hopes from so long before: to build a life rooted in love, enlivened by adventure, marked by giving, and invested in the eternal.

“It’s truly beautiful, Brianna. You should be very proud.”

Tony, if you are reading this, thank you. I am.