Dear Classical Conversations Mom,
You’ll probably see me dragging in on Tuesday mornings, propped up on coffee and trying not to yell at my kids. Invariably, someone has left their lunch or backpack at home. Please tell me this happens at your house too?
When you see me frazzled with that crease deepening between my brows, can you do me a favor? Speak life into me. I’m going to need you this year. I’m going to need you to tell me that I’m not crazy, and that I’m not alone.
Homeschooling has taught me to take off the supermom cape. Being with my kids 24/7, tends to expose all my flaws, insecurity, and pride. That’s why I need you.
Can we be friends this year? Real friends? If so, I need to tell you, I’m a mess. Motherhood is messy isn’t it? We need real friends to make it through. If I look like I have it all together, it’s a mask, spackled together with pride and insecurity.
We need community to anchor us, but we’ll never get there wearing our masks and supermom capes. I want us to be the type of community where it’s safe to lay down our capes and take off our masks.
I want to see the real you.
I want to see the mom that God has uniquely gifted and see the world as you see it. I want to hear your story and see your passions sparkle out. Because, mamma, you’re gorgeous—just the way you are.
Let’s view each other through God’s eyes—beautiful, restored, and wholly His daughter.
I’m going to do my best not to judge you or contribute to the crushing weight of mom guilt that I know you already feel. Turns out, today’s moms suffer mom guilt more than any other generation.
I’ll do my best not to pile any anxiety on you. Unchecked anxiety can be so contagious. Let me go a step further. I promise not to compare myself to you, and I’ll do my best not to compare our kids. Let’s avoid the comparison trap. Nothing sucks joy faster than comparison.
Please know I’m doing my best to live up to my own ridiculously high standards. I’m guilty of always thinking I can go further and faster than is humanly possible, especially with three kids in my wake. I’ll need you to remind me that seeing Jesus in my kids is my ultimate—not a national merit scholarship.
After three years of home education, I still misplace my focus and need Jesus to reset my expectations nearly every day. The grace of slowing down and depending on Jesus, I relearn every day.
Though we only just met, I know we’re going to be friends. You are my people—my inner circle and my social outlet (because homeschool moms need socialized, too!). My husband and I attend a large church and don’t know many people. When it comes to a spiritual community, you’re all I’ve got.
Something beautiful happens when we come together each week to laugh and swap stories (and teach the kids). Those issues I’ve been fretting over all week look incredibly small afterward.
Let’s help each other not sweat the small stuff. This school year, let’s give each other grace.
I’ll do my best to love your children and speak only the words that will help. I won’t criticize you or condemn you because, I get your life. You and I are much the same.
Maybe not in culture, upbringing, or in race. Our churches may speak different vernaculars and sing different songs, but we stand united in Christ. If at first we struggle to talk about spiritual things, let’s keep trying. I’ll remind you of Jesus’ love, and I’m going to need you to remind me.
This year our children will grow and learn together. Let’s grow too. Chances are, I’m going to need your advice and your specific brand of wisdom.
On some days, I’ll need to borrow your courage, and I’ll lend you mine when you need it. I’ll probably need you to talk me down from a few cliffs, and I’m here for you any time you need to send me a message or call me at midnight.
When I lack fresh vision in parenting, I’ll be looking your way for inspiration and enthusiasm because you’ve got this! This job of motherhood is a high calling, and you’re already doing great.
In Grace,
Trisha Mugo
