Two girls, a dog, and a mother. We’re strolling down the middle of the road under the midday sun, heading for the bush.
A few minutes later, dog by my side, I’m running over the red sandstone and under the tall gum trees. And as I run, I listen. Michael Hyatt is talking about the forces that can shape our character. He says something like this:
I think about how this relates to unschooling.
I’ve come to the conclusion that unschooling is just as much about the parent as it is about the child. Initially, we might decide to unschool because we feel it’s the best way to educate and bring up our kids. But we soon find out that unschooling changes us, the parents. It has to. If we don’t become the people we are meant to be, how can we pass on a good example to our kids? We need to develop our characters if we want to be good leaders for them.
Five kilometres later, I flop onto a picnic bench and slurp down some water from my bottle. I’m still listening. Michael Hyatt has gone. Darren Rowse has taken his place. He’s talking about how to write an opinion blog post.
Soon Imogen joins me on the bench, but Gemma-Rose is nowhere in sight. She’s still running along the main fire trail. As we wait for her to return, I feast on my surroundings. There are trees as far as I can see. Birds swoop across the clear blue sky. I listen, not to a podcast, but to the quiet which is only broken by treetop singing. There’s nobody here except for me, Imogen, Nora, and Gemma-Rose who is still somewhere in the bush. A cool breeze passes over my wet skin and I shiver. A delicious shiver. And I think, “I live in the best place in the world.”
Then Gemma-Rose appears from between the trees. She’s panting. Her face is flushed. She turns her bottle upside down and gulps down mouthfuls of water as I say, “How far did you run? Really? Oh my, you must be tired!”
We’re all tired. And hungry. It’s time for lunch.
We walk slowly home, back down the middle of the deserted road, our feet dragging. My ear buds are draped around my neck. I’m swinging my empty water bottle.
And I’m thinking. Should I write an opinion blog post? Maybe I can write about how I live in the best place in the world… in my opinion.
Of course, when we write opinion pieces we have to be prepared for others to disagree with us. You might stop by and protest, “Sue, you’re wrong. I live in the best place in the world!” And I hope you do. Why? So that we can have an interesting debate as we try to convince each other of the merits of our homes? Others might join in and give their opinions. This could be a popular blog post. Opinion blog posts usually are. No, that’s not the reason I want you to disagree with me.
I want you to challenge my opinion because I want you to love your home as much as I love mine. I hope, when you feast your eyes on your surroundings, you experience what I feel when I look at my house nestled next to the beautiful Australian bush:
An intense feeling of gratitude pours from my heart. I think, “I’m so glad I live here. This is my home. This is where I belong.”
It’s a wonderful feeling.
You could come for a walk with me along the bush tracks close to my home.
And maybe you’d like to share some details of where you live. Is it the best place in the world?