Bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils

There is something incredibly exciting about the beginning of school.

I go to Walmart and buy a couple of cases of 32 college ruled spiral bound notebooks, used to be 10 cents each, now 15.

I get online and order Horizons math, Handwriting without tears, Teaching textbooks, and Apologia physics (No, I really am not making money here - that is the stuff we use.) I even finally bit the bullet and bought the Rosetta Stone (it will only be worth it if 14 people are all eventually fluent in Spanish!).

And I plan. Boy do I ever. I'm planning grocery lists, weekly schedules, chores, mentoring, music practicing. I've got plans for my planning.

Funny, for someone with such a short attention span to plan so much, when I'm so very lousy at following through with plans. But somehow it makes me feel ready.

And nervous. Nervous about how to get everybody to do everything every single day of the year. Especially since, right now, with their brains practically turned to mush since I've been letting them live on an electronic overload while I'm making all my plans, and I can barely get them to walk from here to there without a sigh from the eldest, a growl from the second, an eye roll and an argument from the third, weeping from the fourth, a nod and sudden disappearance from the fifth, a suicide threat from the sixth, bargaining from the seventh, complaining from the eighth, incompetence from the ninth and shameless disobedience from the tenth. (I'm exaggerating. They are all still wonderful and helpful and the delight of my eyes.)

And it is really incredible to me that I am excited at all about the next school year, since we only finished the last one YESTERDAY!

Who am I kidding?

I don't know. But there's a spring in my step, a mounting credit card bill, lists on my clipboards, and a brainstorm brewing in my gray matter . . . how can we do it better this year?!

It's a journey. I'm not there yet. I'm better than I was, on my way to what I will be. I'm pressing forward, toward the mark of the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus, to know Him in the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His suffering.

I'm not giving up. I'm getting up. And if I fall down tomorrow as I reach for the stars, I'll get back up again.

To quote my favorite old writer/speaker Ann Keimel, "I am just a small ordinary person, but I've got a giant of a God in me, and together, He and I, we're out to change our world." Holler back. (Ann didn't say that last part, by the way.)