My daughter and I just got back from a whirlwind 4-day trip to New York City. And I’m so glad to be home. Nothing like being in a bustling “city that never sleeps” to inspire appreciation for home.
Not to mention the crazy, sad, and tragic events going on in the United States and around the world recently. It’s hard to process it all and to get back into the rhythm of writing and housekeeping and managing day-to-day life. I feel exhausted and sad.
And at the same time, so happy to call this place home.
I’m wondering: what makes a house a home?
It’s quiet here in our suburban neighborhood. As I sit outside on my front porch swing in the early morning writing, I don’t hear any cars or buses, only birdsong. I am savoring the sunrise and flowers and greenery along with my tea. I am home.
Our home feels safe and cozy. Familiar. Warm. There is love here that we’ve nurtured and built up over time. Love that has seeped into the wood grain of the floors and the walls I painted myself. I notice the dining room light fixture that I adore for its stark beauty and simplicity. I have sweet memories of so many games of rummy cube played at the dining room table. Many meals and holidays celebrated there. Laughter and tears and hugs.
Last night, as we walked in from our trip, our dog Gus greeted us with ecstatic joy.
Gus is beside himself excited to see us. He runs from one end of the dining room to the couch in the living room and back again, over and over. When Gus is excited, he sounds like Chewbacca and wags his whole body.
Then my daughter sits down at the piano soon after we’ve unloaded the car to make music. We go for a walk in our beautiful neighborhood and through the local park just as the sun is setting. Lila points out that the sky is pink and orange on one side and gray and blue on the other. A beautiful moment.
As we returned home, feelings of peace and warmth and love swept over me. (At the same time, I was very aware that not everyone is so fortunate.)
This house has been our home for over 20 years. How does this becoming a home happen? Maybe it’s the love and connection between the people who live there. Because it’s really all about love. Built up over time.
This is how homeschooling is, too. Built up over time, invisible layers of love and learning and memories. And at this moment, at a time when our world seems crazy scary and overwhelming to bring up children in, when awful, tragic things are happening all around us every day it seems, I want to have the courage to show up, to be and share my best self with my children, my family, friends, and the world. And I want to teach this to my children.
None of us thrive by isolating ourselves or by being silent. We need each other. And I am once again so very grateful for Waldorf homeschooling and the time, the shared activities, and the connection that it has offered to our family.
May you be at peace.
May you find the courage to make your life a blessing.
May you find your way home.
If you want to meet others who are also on this heartfelt path of Waldorf homeschooling, consider joining me, other experienced presenters, and homeschoolers from all over North America at the summer Taproot Teacher Training for Waldorf homeschoolers.