Home Education
I’ve been homeschooling for many years – since 2001! With five kids, I’ve been in it long enough to face challenges, hit walls, fail a lot, graduate kids, and still see so much fruit. I’m often asked questions about homeschooling – where do I start, what went wrong, why isn’t it working for us? I wrote a whole series walking you through some philosophy all the way down to the nitty gritty where the rubber meets the road so that I could hold your hand and walk with you and answer some of the questions I hear most often from you!
I’d love to have you alongside!
JOIn me
I’ve been sharing here in my little digital corner of the world wide web since 2007! And, friend, I’d love to have you alongside! I share about our faith, my journey in homeschooling, my home, organization & planning, and I share some about the grief of having my husband withdrawn from our family and our wonderful life – and how God fills our days, comforts our sadness, and directs our steps forward. Subscribe and all my new posts and printables will land in your inbox! I never spam, and I never sell email addresses!
Some gave all for this flag. 🇺🇸 Today is not a celebration as much as it is an honor to remember that we are here and enjoy this Republic because of their ultimate sacrifice. ❤️ Today, our family remembers and honors their sacrifice and we pray for the family members who love and miss them. #memorialday2025
This is the story of a beginning. A beginning again. Beginning again in the middle. Beginning again after the shatter. A beginning that could only have been directed by the hand of God at every turn.
A year ago today I was on a plane headed to meet a Green Beret for the first time. My friends said I couldn’t use his name until I met him so he was affectionately referred to as, “the Green Beret.” 💚
But I have to go back further for this beginning. Back to the dark. Back into the deepest loneliness I’ve ever felt - widowhood is a place of brutal pruning. And isolation. A place which afforded me no one who saw me or understood the darkness I was in. A place that was raw, and burdened with others’ expectations. Made heavier with the uniqueness of carrying my children’s grief and pain because of the loss of their dad. I looked everywhere for help, asked everyone I could think of…and there was nothing for me in this season. Which resulted in even more isolation, save the love of my parents, kids, and a handful of friends willing to go into the dark with me.
So I begged God for a friend. And He answered almost immediately with this man. He was a friend who immediately understood - because he was standing in the dark in his pain, too. He was a friend who wasn’t scared by my pain. He was a friend who needed no explanation. He saw me. And he knew me.
We immediately saw God’s gift in our friendship and thanked Him. And then…it grew. From a beginning to a whispered hope. And from hope to a reality, blessed by God, as He drew out of our pain the unexplainable gift of being able to love and be loved again.
A year ago today we met - after months of a beginning that started in friendship. And God took our fragile hearts and even more fragile first steps and grew us into a depth of love that only He could have prepared. We stand in awe of the gift. And more grateful than words can say. It took courage, heart, hope and an extraordinary amount of faith to walk forward in spite of mountains and obstacles - and here we are. Through the parted sea. Deeply in love. With God. With our story. And with each other. ❤️ Beginning again.
Happy anniversary, soldier. ❤️
This moment.
I think of life in moments.
As a young mom, I struggled with that moment of intensity with young children. I know. Not very gram-worthy to admit, but there it is. Gritty reality. Those moments were hard and I felt overwhelmed and as if I wasn’t good enough. Misunderstood by many, I trudged forward and found a way.
As a mom in grief and living with the loss of my husband while still raising children I felt shattered, empty, and without a rudder. Don’t throw that “God will never give you more than you can handle” mythology at me; He most certainly does. I’ve lived it. He’s there - walking beside, sometimes (often) carrying. But we’re walking on water. Across an ocean. And it is scary. And it is WAAAAAY more than I can handle on my own. He taught me that.
Both moments I have to confess I clawed my way forward. And before you think that’s a testimony of strength - it is not. It’s a confession of groping. It’s a story of grace, but one of gulping grace like air after being dunked and held under water so long your lungs are on fire. It is only now - in this moment - just starting to feel like a story of resting in His promise.
This moment.
This moment is full of hope. And love. ❤️ And breathing. I am breathing again. There is still pain in many forms. The pain of taking risks, of being misunderstood, turned away; the painful parts of being rebuilt in God’s hands are all still there. This season is no less intense than any other season. And I confess, I’d probably have to characterize this moment, too, by groping more than resting in His plan. >>insert your mental image of me flailing about while trying to tread water<< But. To breathe deeply. To feel hopeful. To be still and know. I had to take crazy risks to get here. And through this parted sea, God keeps reaching for me - “come and see.”
Keep me in this moment.
#findingslow #slowisnoteasy #throughthefire #keepmeinthemoment #widowlife #rebuilding #momlife
File this one under, “Things I never thought I could do,” and “Starting Over at the Middle.” The move to Missouri. ❤️
Slow is really hard for me, but I managed to find it. ❤️☀️ I put my phone down and soaked up my favorite people and the sun. And lived slow. ❤️
@sgiflorida @stgeorgeislandfl #findingslow #beachtherapy #beachtime #beachlife #slowlife #slowisnoteasy #putyourphonedown
Here she is - the flagship of the @erincondren teacher planner line. Coiled in the new Sunrise, which is a metallic ombré, you’ll also see the new vertical layout with WEEKENDS if you swipe through!
Launching May 7, base price $57.50.
What do you think of the new vertical layout?????? 😍
#ectp #ecteacherplanner #erincondrenteacherplanner
Are you ready to chat teacher planners??? Because I am!! 😍😍😍
The team at @erincondren reached out and offered to send me the new EC teacher planner, and I couldn’t resist when I heard about some of the changes since I had last seen them! I’m impressed!
I have not one, but TWO OF THE NEW RELEASES!! (There are 6!!! teacher planner options releasing!) You have a NEW vertical layout option choice now in the flagship ECTP, and…a homeschool planner! There are NEW coil options, NEW covers, and NEW accessories!
All the Erin Condren teacher planners launch May 7 for EC Insiders, so for now, let’s just gush over the newness! 🤯🔥💥
PICTURED: the 2024/25 homeschool planner, designed and set up with the homeschooler in mind! As a 22 year homeschooler, I was impressed! The layout is familiar to me (I wish we had the new vertical layout as an option in the homeschool planner!), but I love that all the support pages are geared toward homeschoolers.
I’ll share the standard teacher planner with the vertical layout in a separate post! And then…the new accessories!!! 😍😍😍
Whadya think?!?!?! Should I jump in stories, do a flip, and answer questions???
Thank you @erincondren for sharing with me so I could share with all of you!
#ectp #erincondrenteacherplanner #erincondrenhomeschoolplanner #ecteacherplanner #ecteacherlessonplanner
My best friend asked me last night if I had reinvented myself?
No.
But God has; He is making me new. This fire He sent has made me new. It burnt off the edges of self I was clinging to, and the visions of a future that can never be, while leaving in place a deep love and trust in God - a trust that grew every time He reached into my life miraculously to pull me forward or keep me from drowning.
And He worked from the inside out, surprising me at every turn. “You think you want this?” He would say. “In my love for you and my perfect wisdom, I gift you *this*.” And I would resist. And argue. And hide. And then He would invite me to bend gently around His plan. “Come to me,” He would say. And finally. Slowly. I walked. And then He said, “I know the plans I have for you. Keep stretching.” So I took risks - small at first, and then bigger. Until finally, He said, “Through the fire. Through the parted sea.” And I said, “Yes. Come what may. I trust.”
The rebuild is painful. It’s incomplete. And it is full of risk and pain and vulnerability and joy and happiness and shelter.
What it is missing is quicksand.
If you stretch you will avoid the quicksand that intense grief or intense suffering can bring. I’ve seen the quicksand. I’ve even been stuck in it for a while. If you’re there in the quicksand - listen for His voice and reach for His hand when He stretches toward you. “For I know the plans I have for you,” He will tell you. “I am in the business of parting seas - walk. Walk forward. Walk through the intense suffering in your life. I will part it. You will still feel it. I’m going to stretch you and ask you to take risks. Get up and walk. And I will show you the plans I have for you - plans to give you hope and a future.”
And through that fire - the rebuild happens.
#therebuild #suffering #lifeafterloss #Godpartsthesea #throughthefire #survive #survivingloss #survivethenthrive #rebuilding #joyinthepain
Starting over.
I’m learning that nothing gets to be the same after loss. Nothing. And that includes homeschooling. I’m not sure why I have to keep relearning that lesson, but I do.
Nothing runs on the same tracks. Nothing moves the same. The chemistry of everything is different. And there is only one where there used to be a team of two. I’m learning and building new muscles and changing into a new person - in all things.
Becoming new means first acknowledging that nothing gets to be the same. And I sometimes have to remind myself of that reality multiple times a day - especially when I’m homeschooling and trying to plan or execute like I used to. It doesn’t work anymore. Even though I built a body of experience that can act as a rudder - a lot has to change.
So I line up the constants - the variables that don’t change. Like the need for ME to continue to see with the eyes of a child; to be open to wonder as a child is. And from there…He helps me see how to make all things new. Even lesson plans. And expectations.
Starting over with eyes open to wonder.
#homeschooling #lessonplanning #wisdombeginsinwonder #homeeducation #startingover #homeschool #homeschoolplanning #grief #griefchangesyou #griefchangeseverything #lifeafterloss #soloparenting #soloparent #soloparentingishard
Lent begins.
The past two years I’ve ushered Lent in with open arms. Yes, Lord. Yes, to the cross. Yes, to Your Holy Will in my life. Yes, to surrender and pain. But…could you make it easy for me, Lord? Or, lately for me its wicked sister rears her head - it involves no small amount of whining and complaining on my part. Why, Lord? Why can’t things ever be easy?
Surrender and ease. I guess these two could hold hands when it comes to the sweet joys and consolations that come from God’s mercy and love - babies, blessings, other gifts. It’s easy to surrender to those. But deprivation, being misunderstood, loneliness, and pain - those aren’t easy at all.
That’s my incongruous prayer - surrender while longing for ease - and it’s settled into the corners of my heart in a way that tends to show itself in many ways.
I’m giving up ground in my heart this Lent. I’m giving up the ground that keeps holding a place for ease, and keeps giving way to fear when it doesn’t show up.
God has been preparing my heart for so long. Preparing me for this walk. For this fruit. For this suffering. For this Lent. For this beautiful gift. And I receive these gifts like a ravenous toddler who gulps down grace and then whines when she has to do something with it. 🫣
This Lent is about giving up ground for me. It’s about actively surrendering to the grace and accepting that the gifts of pain and pruning are for my good and the good of others if it pleases God. I’m giving up ground in my heart so that there’s room for a radical trust that can bear fruit. Eyes on the cross.
730 days. Two years of life - after. It’s still uncomfortable. It’s still grief. It’s still painful. It’s now mixed in with big heaping moments of joy. And the juxtaposition of those - grief and joy - feels like home now. Shifting in and out of grief into joy is seamless.
It’s hard to tell you grief is one way…or another…because it’s so unique to each person. Everyone warns you that getting through that first year - the year of firsts - is hard. And it is! But in many ways, year 2 tops it. Your person is still missing from all those milestones and it’s not somehow “less painful” having been through it once before. What year 2 is missing is the natural analgesic of shock that God mercifully gives you the first year. I remember more, feel deeper, and there is the added bonus of starting to forget his face, his voice, his touch - because it’s been so long. Bonus round: you’re functioning because you have to, so almost everyone assumes you have moved on and have healed.
So those are the hard things. But God is working in the threads between moments of grief and joy, weaving His newness into raw and weary places. He works slowly. Quietly. Mysteriously. He works through people He sends as answered prayers, and through the gift of time. And the transformation in Christ continues, bringing unshakeable peace and radical courage to step out into His newness. The alternative is quicksand and it’s perilously easy to get caught in.
730 days…
…worth of gratitude for a God Who keeps His promises.
…worth of loving my children through trauma.
…worth of learning how to love Rob in a whole different way.
…worth of burying my life, hopes, and dreams and letting them go.
…worth of finding out who I am - made new.
…worth of learning to do things I hate.
…worth of discovering new hopes and dreams for a future I never saw coming and didn’t want.
…worth of beginning again.
Nunc coepi. Psalm 77:10. Now, I begin.
#2yearsafter #loss #spouseloss #widow #widowlife #lifeafterloss
I don’t know about you, but I like to know things. I like to plan. I like to know where I’m going, how I’m gonna get there, and as a mom, I have a need to know everyone’s gonna be ok when I get there.
Maybe it’s my temperament, or my mom nature, or the initial loss of footing after having lost husband/provider/protector. Maybe it’s the planner in me. 😉 Maybe it’s all of the above.
But life doesn’t work that way. And that’s where faith rises up to meet the unknown road ahead.
In George Macdonald’s The Princess and the Goblin, Princess Irene is given a mystical ring by her grandmother. Tied to this ring is an exquisitely thin but strong thread. In times of trouble Irene could find the thread and follow it home, but is warned that following the thread may not always be simple or straightforward. This thread saved Irene, but not without a harrowing adventure requiring trust!
We all make plans. I did. I married and planned to grow old with the man that I loved, that fell in love with me and created children with me, and I planned to lean on him, rest with him, love and be loved by him, and follow that thread to a time we could be content with our work here.
God’s thread in our life never stopped its beautifully ordered stretch, but the trajectory I was expecting veered wildly to the fixed and ordered path God desired. And it was shocking at first. That’s not where my eyes were originally focused. How could I know things now? How could I know anything?
I found myself out of any kind of familiar territory. Which, really, was God’s plan all along. He wants me to quit trying to look so far down the path and start clinging to that thread of *right now*. He wants me to take the next step without knowing anything about the road ahead.
Thy word is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my paths. Psalm 118: 105
You know what strikes me about that verse? The lamp is for the next step forward - like Irene’s thread followed hand over hand. It doesn’t illuminate the future. I was never meant to know those things - I’m just supposed to follow the thread to Him, and He will illuminate my path, one step at a time. Fiat.
Twenty-seven years ago today a very scared Jen became a mom. I remember being in labor and transitioning and, petrified, I looked up at Rob and told him I actually was not going to be able to do this. I was not coping well, and in fact, not going to be able to deliver this baby. And he looked right in my eyes and said something that etched and seered my memory, and that I have replayed again and again so that he could continue to encourage me whenever I feel I am facing the impossible.
He said, “Jen, you have no choice. There’s no way around this. Straight through.” ❤️ And with his resolve I focused.
Within minutes Sarah was in our arms. She was the first treasure he ever gave me, but not the last.
Sarah is now a beautiful mom, one of my dearest friends, and still her dad’s treasure! And I couldn’t be prouder of her. ❤️
Happy birthday, sweetheart! ❤️
He asked me to keep his birthday quiet so don’t tell him I shared his pic with y’all, ok?
He’s 19 today. 19. ❤️
The last 2 of those 19 years he walked through fire. He’s stronger, more capable, has grown from a boy to a man, and reminds me of his dad in so many ways. When you lose a spouse, one of the greatest gifts is still finding your spouse in your children’s eyes, wit, and mannerisms. And I see so much of Rob in this young man - so much! Rob would be so proud. And his momma is proud, too. ❤️ Happy birthday, John Paul.
Welcome to the world, sweet little one! ❤️
My Mark and @katie.mackintosh9801 welcomed a precious and healthy baby girl right before Christmas - my fifth grand. She is the sweetest gift to our family and a reminder of God’s continuing promise to care for this family. We are all in love with her!!
It continues to be one of my most cherished treasures to see my children - once in my arms and completely dependent on me - now grown, and holding their own children in arms. There is something there that I can’t quite put into words - a legacy of gift that is an extension of motherhood; not an end. ❤️ It’s a gift for which I am truly thankful to God!
Life after the shatter is about stretching. It is…
hard
full
uncertain
joyful
challenging
isolating
exciting
AND NEW!
You can throw out the “stages of grief.” Walk away from that outdated idea that you get to move from one neat stage to another. That’s not gonna happen. You might feel three “stages” of grief all at once, or none at all, and it’s all normal.
Life after the shatter involves no small amount of courage because the one thing no one talks about is the potential to get stuck in grief. There is a fine line between leaning in and drowning.
I don’t get to give you the secret to not getting stuck in grief (because I don’t know it), but I can tell you it’s rooted in surrender. It’s planted at the foot of the cross, which is the only source of peace in grief. You can try to pick up this cross on your own; it will break you. You can surrender it and find the peace that surpasses all understanding. And from there, I’m beginning to see the newness He is making in me. He makes all things new! And that’s equal parts terrifying and exciting to see what God works in you!
I’m not the first person to stretch toward the unknown. 2000 years ago Joseph and Mary set out, in piercing cold, toward the unknown. I think of the Blessed Virgin Mary’s heart on that journey - full of uncertainty and also full of trust. And nestled safely just under her heart was the Divine Infant, the Savior of mankind. With Him, she could trust and stretch toward Bethlehem, toward God’s Holy Will in her life, not knowing that her stretching would take her to a crude, poor shelter surrounded by God’s most humble creatures where she would receive Him in her arms.
Two Advents ago my journey to Bethlehem went through a hospital room and the most terrifying nightmare of my life. Today, He stretches me differently while making that hospital room ever present. Our journey to Bethlehem is unique and chosen especially and lovingly, and always a stretch. I have been asking the Blessed Virgin to give me her heart - one that shelters hope and the light of the world. And She answers with the gift of fiat - be it done to me according to God’s word. Even in the stretch.
Today’s planner stack. 🔥💪🏼
Ya know. 🤔 I was thinking about deconstructing things - as one does when one is looking for common denominators and finding what works. And how a planner is really just a bound collection of paper…and the tool of a pen. (Now we can get all giddy talking about the gsm of that paper and how fine a point pen you like, and fast drying, and my stars…#teamblueink or #teamblackink …and the rabbit hole of how you bind said paper!) And how a planner can mean so much - it gets to be the potential of hope for the future, a way of managing the present, and a window into the past. But still…it’s just paper and a pen and a little formatting with your life applied in the corners, tucked on pages, carried through in threads and events. So…it’s just paper…and it’s also so much more.
And since life is never static, neither are our planners, really. They’re always flexing to bend with us!
In my life, I often see my planner as this box I’m trying to fit in. Except my life doesn’t fit on a page - both because God took us out of every box I know, and because sometimes life moves so far off the page, and I want to keep up. I think that’s when my more creative side starts to kick in…and I get a little more free flow with it all. I have this spontaneous side that DEEPLY needs the rails of a planner. Freedom within boundaries.
So…if you deconstructed your planner down to paper and your pen, what would it be for you? A lifeboat? A luxury cruise? A crafting outlet? A space to get words out? A window to the past that looks forward with hope?
🆒 Top to bottom:
📔 Hobonichi Techo 2023 Cousin (A5)
📓 Amazon 3 ring A5 binder for finances
📓 Amazon 3 ring A5 binder for work admin
📒 @levenger Letter size discbound lesson planner
Lauren’s Confirmation last weekend was at the @guadalupeshrine in La Crosse, WI. And my kids showed up. In every way. This family shows up for Sacraments. All 5 were there in spite of sickness, travel, and snow. And for brief moments, God held time and allowed me to see His goodness that runs like an unwavering thread through our lives.
I wanted this to be a pilgrimage for our family in addition to Lauren’s confirmation, but like all pilgrimages, there are gifts that feel like thorns and I started to feel panicky and lost. A friend encouraged me to let go my tight grip, and as soon as I did, everything began to unfold. I lifted my eyes to the hills and my help came.
I pleaded with Our Lady of Guadalupe when Lauren’s dad was in the hospital. And now, I was 13 hours from home with the fruit of my suffering. I was there to say thank you and to ask for more grace. And there was the Blessed Virgin, inviting us up that hill blanketed in the quietest snow.
Lauren was Confirmed in the beautiful, rich traditional rite of Confirmation by @cardinalraymondburke and our family is grateful for God’s goodness, Cardinal Burke’s faithfulness, and the hospitality of @guadalupeshrine and though I keenly felt the absence of Lauren’s dad, I know God allowed him to behold this, one of the fruits of his suffering in his child’s life. ❤️
I don’t know what I’m doing. 🤪 But there’s nothing wrong with test driving, right? If you wanna see it all 🫣🫣🫣 check my #hobonichi highlight. 🙂🤪
Living with grief looks a lot like normal to most people. We function, sometimes at a very high level. We feel joy. We laugh. We keep up…or we try. Usually because there are children who desperately need the stretch into routine and normalcy. We’re exhausted. There is no one walking through the door before dinner to fill us up or take over for the evening or share a glass of wine with. There are no date nights to share goals or dreams or hopes or a vision of the future. All of that died. That, too, is mourned and let go.
More vulnerable than we have ever been, we begin to open ourselves - to life, to an unknown future, to the hope of mercy in the morning.
It’s not a feeling or an intuition. It’s an active choice. A choice to embrace God’s unknown plan when you stand stripped of every shelter save His promise to make all things new.
Thanking God - His mercies are new every morning.
