The missing tile: what's yours?

The other day I was watching this at Prager University.  If you can't spare the five minutes to watch it then I will quickly summarise the missing tile syndrome.  If one were to look at a ceiling and notice that one tile was missing, it would become practically impossible to stare at that missing tile.  One would focus on the imperfection and, if possible, replace the tile.  This demand for perfection is achievable when it comes to ceilings; however, when it comes to one's own life, the demand for perfection is both out of reach and damaging.  Nevertheless, the illusive nature of perfection doesn't keep us from trying to achieve it, often to our own detriment.  Prager questions us by asking what the missing tile is in our lives.  What imperfection, lack of achievement or failing do we focus on in our lives that prevents us from seeing the rest of our 'ceiling' in the correct light?

I began to think about my own missing tiles.  Among other 'failings', I tend to focus on some big tiles like my frequent inability to sleep well (either at night or during the day) and a default zone of hypochondria.  One of my more laughable missing tiles is my almost daily inability to provide my school-attending children with a good lunch.  I go to bed at night thinking about the unmade lunches and, when I manage to create a good midday meal, I immediately wonder how I can keep it up.  Crazy, eh?  When I realised that school lunches were a missing tile I wondered how I could remedy this situation.  Surprisingly the answer came very quickly when I realised that I provide nutrient-dense (how's that for a catch word?) breakfasts and suppers and, thus, if I just look at school lunch as a snack then I will quit the needless worry.  Ba da bing ba da boom.  Good-bye, school lunches.

Of course, I do realise that my worry over something as silly as a school lunch is telling of an overall state of anxiety.  So, I began to wonder about the bigger missing tiles and I realised that there is one tile in my life that colours almost all other aspects of my mothering.  Until I began to think about it as just one tile in the ceiling of my life, I hadn't truly understood how pervasive its absence actually was.  This tile is the fact that I don't homeschool.

Now, I know that some of you might be thinking, what is this woman talking about?  Who in the world homeschools?  Well, in this part of the world, it seems that the mark of a good Catholic mother is her ability to homeschool, usually while popping out children at an astonishing rate.  In fact, homeschooling is often held up as the ideal for family life and the panacea for all societal ills.  As I pondered this tile, I realised that I operate as if the kids being in school is evidence of my failure as a mother.  When people stop me in the grocery store and wonder at how I can possibly mother six children I always want to answer, "But I don't homeschool."  Furthermore, I send my kids to school as if their education is not only second-rate but also a symptom of their mother's inability to measure up to all those women who can both nurse a baby and teach their children to read.

Being able to see homeschooling and its absence in our lives as a missing tile allowed me to gain some perspective.  To begin, homeschooling is just one tile in a very big ceiling.  The other thing is that homeschooling is a vocation, a calling:  not all of us are asked to do it.  I have always understood this with my head but I think that I felt that the fact that I was not called to homeschooling was solely based on the fact that I couldn't do it.  This is simply not true.  Our kids are called to be in school at this time and we are incredibly blessed that their father is there with them.  They are receiving a good education and any holes within that education can usually be remedied by either Dave or me.  We don't not homeschool just because I am lacking in some essential skill.  No, our children go to school because that is where they are called to be at this time in their lives.  If, at some point, they are called to be at home, then I will somehow be able to be their teacher.  God only equips the called.

And, that's more than just OK.  It is blessed and it is graced and it is our duty of the moment.  And, if that is the truth, then it really isn't a missing tile, is it?