When I enter into chores or difficult days with resentment, I know that it stems from my failure to love. Think of a time when the cleaning and organizing of a particular room has been a great joy because the thought of order and beauty is exciting and motivating. The same chore months later might cause a bitter interior struggle and a sour countenance. The room has not changed...only the love we bear for our cross.
Homeschooling (and mothering) is like that. When resentment and burden start to weigh down the spirit, I know that I am struggling to cast off the gift of vocation. I know what it is to embrace the rough and heavy cross with gratitude and joy; to lay my cheek against its abrasive fibers and let the wood absorb my tears as my heart is lifted to sweetness and peace that does not come from this world. When I fight against it, fear takes hold and I see only the difficult exterior. The treasure is hidden and I must, once again, struggle to return to love.
This is why women run away from the burden of their homes, grateful to become a servant of corporate America rather than lead in their own domain. We are afraid of opening up the door to suffering. And we risk missing the greatest happiness of our lives.