
June 13, 2025 was the last day of my homeschooling journey. It ended quietly. And then summer began with traveling, and included our traditional summer activities. It went by fast. And then it was the first day of school, but not for me. (It turned out not to be for two of my daughters either. A water main break gave us five more days of summer.) Nevertheless, I felt a sadness, and wondered why.
I don’t have a desire to homeschool anymore, and I’m looking forward to having time to “catch-up” on some of the things I put on the back burner while I was busy homeschooling. I read a few articles on retiring, and found one about life after homeschooling. And then I wrote in my journal.
Lord, I know this is a process. I’m going to feel all sorts of feelings. Please be with me through it. Guide me. Hold me. Show me the way. A friend of mine said, “Cut yourself some slack.” I am listening, Lord.
I acknowledge that what I did was a big accomplishment. Only those who have done it really know. And you know, Lord. It took Grace, and I thank you for supplying it. You gave me grace to persevere. I may have some regrets. Things I’m not proud of. Impatience, anger, anxiety… But there was good too. Patience, love, compassion, hard work…
It has helped me grow closer to you, which is best of all, I think. I learned so much. Why am I sad? What is the loss? Second chances.
I can’t have a do-over. I can’t get the time back. I can’t relive the good past memories. It’s the end of an era. I can’t get those babies and little kids back. I can’t have younger me back.
I used to love to scrapbook, to host Bible studies in my home, to study nature, to make reading nooks. I was a teacher, a tutor, a coach… I researched educational philosophies, traveled with little ones, participated in co-ops… I was an educator, a planner, an organizer, a writer, a blogger, a catechist… I wanted to do such a good job.
I kept trying. I didn’t give up. I tried to do what was best for each child. I tried to pay attention, to learn more, to do it right, to find the best way, to make a difference. I had so much hope each year, each morning, each day. I loved them SO much. I wanted them to love learning, to love our home, to experience things, to love you, Lord. To know you, to trust you. To have a true education. Sometimes I wonder if I did enough.
Maybe I wasn’t a good model, a good example, and I wasn’t holy. But I did the best I could at the time, and life continues. I am still their mother. We are still here. Only the “school” part is changing. I can continue to educate myself. To grow in faith, hope, love, and other virtues. To grow closer to you and hopefully do your will. To listen to your leading me.
So maybe I was a little melancholy the day I wrote this. I can get that way sometimes. Maybe it’s all part of the process of letting go. Maybe this is why people have retirement parties. To celebrate, and have some kind of closure. And when people graduate from high school or college, we say, “Congratulations! You did it!” Maybe this post is part of my closure. (And so is unloading homeschool curriculum, which I’ve been doing for a month now, and I’m almost finished.) This post is my celebration.
Yay! You did it! Congratulations! Oh, the places you’ll go!
Why, thank you.










































