Skip to main content

first day of school

i will join the chorus of parents across the nation, picking up my part in the boisterous refrain: i can't believe that summer is over and school is beginning.  but, whether i believe it or not, here it is.  in about an hour, i will drop off jackson and caedmon at the bus stop, and entrust their care to the teachers and administrators of NCS, hoping that they treat my children with care and understanding, and that my kids behave themselves and make me proud. 

there is such a humbling loss of control associated with the first day of school.  when i see their little faces framed in that tiny bus window rectangle, as it pulls them off to new faces and new friends and new routines and new situations and new ideas and new words and new rules and new expectations and new pencils and new teachers, i am just about overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness.  normally, when they are faced with the unfamiliar, i am there to hold their hand, to offer instruction and correction as needed, and to clearly define the boundaries for them.  for the next 7 hours they are going to have to manage without daddy's hand, instructions, corrections and firm but loving guidance. 



will they figure out what bus to get on in the afternoon?  will their teachers see how precious they are?  will they make good friends?  will they talk about things with their friends, or overhear things that i think they're nowhere near ready to hear?  will they be so shy that they don't talk to anyone?  will they learn to love learning the way i do?  will i be able to make it through the day without being reduced to a bawling idiot?  these are the questions of the first day of school, that will soon be replaced by other, more pressing questions like, "why didn't you eat your sandwich at lunch?" and "what do you mean you would rather watch ninjago than do your homework?"  but for now, these are the questions that justify my extra-wet eyes.  must be allergies. 

Comments

Mary said…
tear.

Popular posts from this blog

#thoughtsandprayers

i made these comments and prayed the following prayer at one of our worship services at SPWF yesterday, and had a few folks asked if i would post them, so there they are: 
It has been a season of terrible tragedy.  And I have noticed in the news a trending phrase: thoughts and prayers.  It even has its own hashtag on twitter and other social media, but net necessarily in a good way.  People are understandably tired of hearing about others’ thoughts and prayers, when that is only a thinly-veiled way of saying that our only obligation to those who suffer is a brief moment of silence, or nothing more than a tweet or public statement.  The truth is that, for those of us who follow Jesus, much is required when our neighbors suffer.  We are called to do justice where we can, to love kindness and mercy, and to walk with God through it all.  But let us be careful not to throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.  We are, as people of faith, those who know that prayer is not simply an em…

a divided tree

there is a tree in my back yard.  i'm pretty sure it's an oak tree.  at least that's what i think Shannon told me.  i don't know my oaks from my maples, my elms from my locusts.  to me, it's a tree: a corinthian column bursting up into life and glory.  full of sap and pulp and rings and bugs and cells pulsing with water and always reaching for something.  it is full of rhythm, reach and flourish then fall and die, and repeat. 

this particular tree, though, isn't of one mind. 

half of it's rusted orange leaves have given up their grip and surrendered -gracefully or not - to the pull of gravity and the threat of winter.  the north side of this inauspicious oak is just about bare naked, all sticks and straight lines, a skeleton of itself.  but the side that looks south is stubbornly resisting change.  no longer green, the leaves have compromised their summer vibrancy, but they are clearly not ready to concede death just yet. 

i feel like i can relate to this …

vote. and pray. but do not be afraid (the King is alive).

i'm not sure how many americans right now are feeling optimistic about the government.  i know i'm not.  in fact, while i didn't live through the civil war or anything, i have to think that faith in our elected leaders - indeed the whole system of electing them in the first place - is at one of its lowest points.  i just don't have a great deal of confidence in those individuals who have been elected, or in those who want to be.  i find myself slipping at times into what feels like a swamp of apathy: sinking, to be sure, but not sure that i care enough anymore to do much about it.  i see this attitude all around me: in conversations, on social media, and in popular culture.  perhaps there is no more clear indication of our nation's view of the government than this current election season, when we would teeter on electing liars and thieves, crooks and clowns. 

which is why i was so startled as i sat down to read psalm 72 this morning. as i read the ancient song, i…