The Year of Hygge for Homeschooling

It had been eight years...eight filled years of homeschool co-op. 

They were wonderful years. 

Enriching years.

But they were filled years. 

And by the spring of the eighth year, my shoulders slumped. They were no longer wide enough to carry the load of co-operative learning.

I had fizzled out and needed some rest...some Sabbath-type rest that would nourish my soul. I had been so busy doing. planning. scheming. filling. for all of my children that I had somehow forgotten about what I needed for homeschool.

I needed rest.

I needed slow.

I needed cozy.

I needed hygge. 

I had first heard of hygge (pronounced hoo-gah) two years prior when I read an interesting magazine article about winter blues. 

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Living in the upper midwest which proudly boasts of a nine-month-long winter (or so it seems) with below freezing temps, I was fascinated by the Danish practice of hygge. 

Surprisingly, the Danes who also spend much of the year in the biting winter desolation and darkness, have ranked at the very top of the European Commission's well-being and happiness index for the past 40 years.  

In other words, apparently, Disney got it wrong. Denmark is the happiest place on Earth. 

But what makes the Danish people so defiantly content and even cheerful amidst the dreariness and drudgery of winter? How can they be peaceful and restful when winter is often woven in routine...and dare I say it, monotony? 

It's hygge.

What is hygge?

I wish I could scribble out a concise little definition for you; one which wraps up hygge in a neat American package.

But the truth is, hygge is hard to translate. There's no English word for it. It's not so much a "thing" as it is a feeling...a concept...a lifestyle.

In its most uncomplicated terms, hygge is the Scandinavian practice of enjoying life's simple pleasures surrounded by friends, family, and often food.

Hygge is coffee by the fire.

It's snuggling together under a blanket with a good book.

It's slow food and even slower conversation. 

Americans might call all of that hospitality. But since our version of hospitality often involves preparation, busy, attempts to impress or be impressed..."hospitality" seems to fall flat.

No, it's not hospitality.

It's so much more simple than that. 

It's about coziness. And togetherness. And warmth. And rest.

It's about everything I was looking for after eight filled years of homeschool co-op.

Somewhere towards the end of the weighty spring, and nearly one year after coming across that initial article, I read this lovely bit of words and knew my homeschool needed a year of hygge. A year of rest.

How to hygge for homeschool?

Motivated by my growing need for cozy togetherness, I sent out an appeal to two other homeschooling mommas. I invited them to join me in my quest for rest...my search for hygge. 

Like me, those ladies were tired. Parched. Empty. They needed to refill their happy and find a way to thrive, not just survive another wearisome winter. 

So we formed a plan and began the fall with rest. 

With kids in tow, every other Tuesday found us gathered at a home. 

My home. 

Their homes. 

We took turns welcoming and being welcomed.

We'd slough off our snow boots by the door, pile our coats and mittens in a heap by the closet, and point our kids in the direction of play rooms or game tables. 

There was no real agenda. Expectations were low. It was always a slow morning filled with talking, laughing, and purposeful nothingness--me with my friends and my kids with theirs. Friendships deepened and a sense of family was forged. 

We embraced scruffy hospitality...overlooking piles of laundry on the couch, breakfast dishes in the sink, and toddlers running around in Super Man capes. We spread our arms wide to authentic living because it wasn't about the atmosphere, it was about the people. It was about the rest that can only be found in close community. It was about an unhurried, uncluttered morning spent over coffee and conversation. 

Like social circles of old, we, mommas, would often knit. 

But, sometimes even that felt like too much. And so, we'd just sit and rest and enjoy being with one another. 

And that was enough.

The kids played board games, built snow forts, and felt safe with other kids who understood.

Somewhere mid-day, an assembly line was formed. The three mommas would pause to make lunch.

A simple spread of meat and cheese sandwiches on buns. Chips. Fruit. was the uncomplicated menu every time. 

No gourmet. No fuss. No decision fatigue.

Just s.i.m.p.l.e. 

We'd linger around the table amidst spilled drinks and loud talk and we'd breathe deeply because this...THIS...was what our weary spirits craved.

Easy community.

Sometime after lunch, we'd all pitch in to get the host's house back in order. Then, we'd slowly make our way out the door and eagerly anticipate our next chance to come together.

Moving on...

In their book, The Life-Giving Home, Sally and Sarah Clarkson share:

 "All people need a place where their roots can grow deep and they always feel like they belong and have a loving refuge."

For us, that refuge came with hygge.

We spent an entire year homeschooling this way. It was a welcome change to the busyness that had slowly begun to suffocate us all.

Like Sabbath rest, the year of hygge had let us sit dormant...let us refill...let us re-focus.
Next year, we'll be moving on from hygge and heading back to co-op. Because now I'm ready.
I can breathe again.