Holy ambition.

Dan and I recently had an energy-use assessment done on our home. "It's all about climate change," chirped the inspector. My husband bluntly replied, "It's all about saving money." We need a new furnace, and want the available government rebate for said purchase. (Hence the official inspection: heaven forbid that the feds hand out a whopping $500 without following the proper channels--it wouldn't want to get mired in HotAirScam.) The inspector soon noticed school-age children about the premises, and enquired after their education (perhaps he's also concerned about social-climate change). I told him we homeschool. After some chat, he declared, "You must be one ambitious lady."

Dan responded, laughing, "Ambitious or crazy," for some people think we are, and sometimes we humour them. As the inspection progressed, I left the younger girls (9, 6, and 3) to their own devices (a computer game, a smattering of school busy-work) and, toddler on hip, followed the inspector and Dan around the house. This evidently troubled the inspector, for he soon queried, "Today not a teaching day?"

Although it was none of his business, I explained that Friday was music day, which meant the older girls had to drive to two different communities for piano lessons and choir practice, and the younger ones had a reduced workload. Inspection soon completed, he packed up his gear, then asked, "So what do you have planned for the rest of the day?"

I was astonished by his question, because this was really none of his business. Perhaps I should have shown him my detailed daily lesson plans and teacher's log for each child. Instead I just stammered something about piano practice, storybook time, novel-reading, and music appreciation. "You sure are ambitious," he repeated.

Once, I could let pass; twice, I had to start obsessing. What was he implying? Sometimes when people make such comments, they mean, "You must think a lot of yourself," (as if the impetus to homeschool involves an optimistic assessment of one's talents and abilities). Perhaps by "ambitious" he meant "glutton for punishment," because homeschooling can be hard work--so much so that many people conclude (erroneously) they could never do it.

My Webster's dictionary gives three definitions for 'ambition': "1) an ardent desire for rank, fame or power." If I were that kind of ambitious, I wouldn't be homeschooling. I probably wouldn't even be married. I'd likely be sitting in an office or newsroom somewhere, clicking away on a keyboard, trying to climb the literary or journalistic ladder, and emasculating men along the way--figuratively speaking, of course.

The second definition reads: "desire to achieve a particular end." I suppose I'm ambitious according to that definition, but then so is the guy who shuffles to the pantry in search of the potato chips. Thirdly, Webster's proposes that ambition is "a desire for activity or exertion," or, in the words of my handy Microsoft Word thesaurus, "determined, go-getting, ruthless, striving, pushy, motivated." While it's been my ongoing experience that a mother of seven must occasionally exert herself, I can, humanly speaking, rarely muster a desire to do so. The sad truth is, I don't have a motivated bone in my body. I'm horribly lazy.

This belies any notion that I think I'm Superwoman (or even Barely-Adequate Woman). Since homeschooling is part of my calling as I've perceived it, I don't think of myself as ambitious; I'm just doing my duty. Sometimes I'm filled with fervour for my vocation; sometimes I don't want to get out of bed in the morning. However, God in his grace and mercy always makes up for what I lack.

As for "determined and pushy," well, maybe someone has seen me behind the steering wheel when I'm late for music lessons. But ruthless? I hope not. You don't educate your children in the faith (or academically, for that matter) by hammering their lessons into them. I hope I am, as St. Paul exhorts, "ambitious for the higher gifts" (I Cor 12:31), especially love. There's a difference between good ambition (perhaps better defined as holy zeal) and bad ambition, which is selfishness and vanity.

That said, I must finally admit to Mr. Inspector being correct: I'm very ambitious for my children. (I've become one of those women we used to deride in Sociology class: pathetic souls who have no life of their own and must live vicariously through their offspring--I think they're called "mothers.") I want my children to do well and to serve God to the best of their abilities in their respective vocations and career paths.

As for myself, my ambitions, in a nutshell, are these: eternal salvation for myself and my loved ones (which theoretically includes the whole world) and, to that end, evangelization insofar as the Lord provides the opportunity. That's more than enough for a lazy gal like me.

Mariette Ulrich is a mother and a homemaker. She writes from Scott, Saskatchewan, where she lives with her husband, Dan and seven daughters.