November, you always seem to bring the nagging, needling thoughts– accusing me of being behind.
I start the year with an outline complete with goals and plans. I keep my sketch stretchy– allowing room for life, real learning, and even a little lazy. But somehow, every year, August's you can do this! is replaced by November's you didn't do it.
Elijah's Latin book hasn't been opened yet.
Your American Indian study is only half-finished.
The binding on your poetry memorization book is barely broken.
Did you write your Five in a Row plans in invisible ink?
You'd have to do two math lessons each day to catch-up to where you should be.
The frame of your once-beautiful outline has been bent into something unrecognizable and ugly.
Everyone else is right-on-schedule.
Some of the allegations are true. Some aren't. Either way, I have a choice.
I can agonize over my pulverized plans, or I can contemplate and commemorate what we've done off-road.
Spontaneous field trips, baskets of library books, afternoons at the park, following rabbit trails, conversations about God . . .
Sorry, November. I'm not going to listen to you this time.
We are living. We are loving. We are learning. We are not behind.