How homeschooling made room for my son’s passions to grow
It didn’t start with a prayer.
It started with me — doing what I do best — taking on too much.
I narrowed things down, minimized, found my focus… and then slowly began adding again.
A blog.
Curriculum I’ve written and want to share.
A new homeschool planner.
Our high school literature class at co-op.
The social media for my husband’s medical practice.
All good things — meaningful, creative, purposeful — yet somehow together, too much for one small soul to hold.
So then I prayed.
Not for less, exactly, but for balance — for that quiet center where my work and my motherhood don’t have to compete for air.
And then something unexpected happened.
My son offered to take over the filming and editing of my reels and short videos — a small side job, yes, but really, a doorway. He’s always loved videography, and suddenly here was space for him to step into it, and for me to step back and watch.
It’s funny — I’ve been teaching him for years. But in this, he’s the teacher.
He moves with instinct. Knows how to frame the light, how to catch a moment and make it breathe. I watch him, amazed, and think, I couldn’t have done that.
This, too, is education.
Not only the shared work and real delight — but the honoring of passion.
The quiet knowing that what God planted in him isn’t mine to direct, only to nurture.
One of the gifts of homeschooling is the margin it gives for this kind of becoming.
When academics take their rightful, reasonable place — not the whole day, just the necessary part — there’s room left for a child’s true self to unfold.
Charlotte Mason once said, “Children are born persons.”
Not extensions of us.
Not clay to be molded.
But living souls with their own creative longings and sacred callings.
Today, I saw that truth in motion — behind a camera, in a song choice, in the curve of a smile as he clicked “save.”
Maybe this is what balance looks like after all — not perfect order, but shared creation.
Thank You, Lord, for this unexpected summit along the way. I’ll rest here for a moment and give thanks before the climb continues.
🌿 Something to Carry
Think of a time your child lost themselves in something they loved — building, sketching, filming, dreaming.
How did time move then?
Slow and golden, like it was meant to?
Children bloom in the margins — in the unhurried hours when imagination has room to stretch.
When every minute is filled, their wonder has nowhere to rest.
But when we make space — real, breathing space — they unfold quietly into who they already are.
Hold this truth:
Growth needs room. Wonder needs margin.
Delight & Savor 