Momma's First Day of School

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

What? Why is my alarm going off at this ungodly hour? Then it sunk in...

It's Jack's first day of kindergarten.

My heart jumped in my throat as I clenched my pillow. The tears rushed to my eyes. Lord, protect him. Always stay by his side. Bring him wonderful, Christ loving friends. Fill his teacher's heart with grace for him. Give him confidence and peace, help him focus, keep his mind open. Bless him today. Amen.

I have been dreading this day, I'm not going to lie. I have spent almost every day of his almost six years of life with him. What is a stay at home momma to do when her first born starts going to school all day? I've had an emotional couple of weeks leading up to today. I began coaching myself with a little chorus I wrote... I'm sure you can guess the tune.

Let him go! Let him go!
Can't hold him back anymore!
Let him go! Let him go!
Let him walk through every door!

The only thing I remember from my first day of kindergarten was the little girl sitting next to me. She was wearing a frilly red dress and white wool stockings. And she peed her pants. I can't tell you a THING about my first year in school other than that. Dear Lord, please help Jack to remember to use the bathroom every now and then. Amen.

I finally climbed out of bed. It took little effort, since I knew I needed to bring my A game this morning. I was standing outside his door when he emerged, sleepy eyed and rubbing his tired head. I embraced him and we sat on his bed for a minute and prayed together. As he got dressed, I couldn't help but be proud of this handsome little boy standing before me. Perhaps one or two tears mingled with his eggs, but eggs need a little salt anyway so it was okay. As he was eating, I asked him what he was excited to learn about. "I don't think we are going to learn about tractors, are we," he said with a smile.

We gathered up his bags and supplies and headed out the door, pausing for a quick picture.

Then Eric, myself, Jack and Gabe sat on the front porch step and put our arms around Jack. Daddy prayed for Jack's day and first year of school. We piled into the car, excitedly talking about all the fun things that would probably happen in Jack's day. We walked into school together. As I walked behind Jack, with his John Deere book bag hanging off his back and his tractor lunch box in his hand, I could feel the tears wanting to push their way out. Someone somewhere was praying for me then, because the tears never surfaced.

We walked into his classroom. He knew right where to go. He hung up his bags and sat behind his desk. He glanced over his shoulder to eye the other kids in the class. He smiled at them, then turned to look at me.

Eric and Gabe hung back by the classroom door. Gabe called out, "I'm going to miss you, Jack!" Jack smiled, ready to go, already opening the book that had been carefully placed on his desk. It was time.

I approached the door, wanting to stay but excited for him and this milestone. I could have lost it in the gym, but somebody else, somewhere, was praying for me, and I held it together. Gabe and I headed over to our favorite bakery in town for a date to celebrate the special time the two of us would have together now. I knew I needed to be in a public place or else I would probably be home sobbing. We ran into many friends while eating our treats, who were full of hugs and smiles. I was actually shocking my friends with the fact that I hadn't actually cried yet. I was shocking myself.

Now here I sit, typing and doing puzzles and playing Chutes and Ladders with my three year old. There is no fighting in the house. Weird. I miss my little five year old. I wonder what he is doing right now? I've been asking myself... what are my fears? Besides simply letting him go... letting him move forward to the next season of his life... what are the thoughts that are nagging at me? I suppose I worry that he won't be accepted. Will he be teased? Will he struggle to understand things? I love this kid SO much. And as I sit here and type this, I know - that my love isn't enough for him.

For the past five years I have held an umbrella of protection over him. I suppose, I have known deep down, that all the while the Lord has been holding an umbrella of protection over the both of us - our entire family, actually. Psalm 121 tells me that the Lord watches over us always - He never slumbers. He watches over our coming and going and will keep us from all harm. Today as Jack walked out from under my own umbrella, I felt peace knowing that he was still standing under God's protection.

This process of letting Jack go has reminded me that the only way he is going to get to know and form a relationship with the Lord is if I give him the independence to do so. My love runs deep for my children but it cannot save them. Only God's love can do that. As hard as it is to be separated from him this first day, I am excited to bear witness to God's work in his life and how Jack will begin to lean less on me and lean more on Him.

Last night I had a hard time falling asleep. Too many worries running through my head. Pen and paper usually help, so I busted out some poetry to sort my thoughts...


When I drop him off and leave, will he notice? Will he care?

That is ever lovin' momma is no longer there?

What about his teacher? Will she get him? Will she see?

The smart, sweet little boy I always know him to be?

When he opens his lunch bag, will he feel loved?

Will it be the First Day of School lunch he's always dreamed of?

Will he fit right in and make lots of friends?

Will he be sad when his first day of school ends?

Will he make it through the day without needing a nap?

Will I make it through the day without being a sap?

Will he always remember that his momma loves him so?

Will he always remember that God loves him more?

I pray, Dear Lord, that you hold on to him tight.

I trust you will never let him out of your sight.

Teach Him your Word, let it dwell in his heart.

Remind him often that you will never be apart.

Thank you Father, for the gift of this sweet boy.

He is so special and has brought me much joy.

May He serve You well.

May he be a mighty arrow in Your hands.

May he look to You always.

Amen.

Small Town Livin'

The first time I visited this small farm town of which I now call Home, I was less than impressed. I was a 21 year old college student attending a university in the great city of Chicago. Driving out of the city into the expanse of cornfields and red barns was like stepping out of a desert directly into an ice age. Complete shock. Ironically, my husband and I were only at the "just friends" stage of our relationship at the time, but he had already told me that I was the one he was going to marry, and I was just trying to catch up. This visit was not helping his case.

A tour through the tiny town of not quite 10,000 people left me feeling somber. I did not see any young people... no hot spots, no Starbucks, no shopping of any kind really, and not many restaurants except the ones I didn't like. Plenty of nursing homes, abandoned store fronts and uneven brick roads helped me come to the immediate conclusion that this would never be a place I would choose to live. Ever. I remember walking into a little boutique (which, even as a college student, I thought was pretty cute and I remember thinking "well, at least the town has this"). A woman approached me and asked me if I needed help. When she saw who I was with (my "friend" and his mom) the following conversation revealed that she was a second or third cousin of Eric's - once or twice removed, they weren't quite sure. This struck me as odd. I have a total of six cousins in existence, who all live in opposite corners of the United States. I have never really had close relationships with many of my external family members, since distance was always such an obstacle. Did I even have second cousins?

It was the holiday of Easter that had brought me to this little neck of the... cornfields, of which, in my family, was celebrated with just me and my siblings and parents and an awesome ham. Eric's entire family was present for this particular feast, and after I had met his mom, dad, brother, sister, sister's boyfriend, aunt, uncle, grandparents, cousins and their spouses I had just decided to claim the title of "Eric's girlfriend" because explaining anything else was just getting too complicated. (Yes, that is how it happened, folks.) Eric's familys' roots ran deep in this town and it was evident everywhere we went. Driving around the country led us past old farmhouses occupied by relatives of all sorts. I never thought in a million years that I would grow to love those stretching corn fields.

Fast forward nine years. It is August 17, 2011. I step inside an empty house that belongs to Eric's grandmother, who recently moved into a nursing home. Though there is nothing inside this house, I can still picture the furniture that used to hug every corner and the old pictures that adorned the walls. My 11 month old is resting on my hip, my two year old is... somewhere. And I am thinking, "This is it. Our new home. Lord, you promised to prosper me, not to harm me. Please make good on that promise. Please."

Hardly a week had passed since we had moved into our new home. I opened up the front door one morning to find this sitting on our porch.

 

This was a big deal to me. Moving (which included leaving my family behind) was so hard - emotionally and physically. We were receiving gifts from strangers and finding fresh home grown veggies delivered to our door step. This town showed my sweet little family more love, generosity and acceptance in several weeks than I ever could have asked for. And it helped. The outpouring of friendship reeled me right in.

 

My 21 year old self had no clue what my 30 year old heart would yearn for, yet it was those initial judgements that I clung to which shaped my negative view towards this town. As I watched my eldest son climb on a combine for the first time with his daddy and ride off into the fields, his excitement erupting into giggles and questions and ear to ear smiles, I knew this was the best place for me to be raising my two sons. My husband was happy to be doing what he loved doing. My children were loving farm life and all the dirt, big wheels and green it had to offer. 

 

We have since found a church that we love, friendships that are blessing us richly, and both Eric and I are using our spiritual gifts to serve others within the community. I always run into someone I know when I am grocery shopping or running errands in town. I have a "usual" at my favorite coffee spot. My hair stylist is a dear friend - getting my hair done turns into a girls night on the town. So is the receptionist at the doctor's office up the road that my boys and I frequent in the winter. Only in a small town can you walk in the doors of a business, meet someone you think is friendly and end up scheduling a play date a few weeks later. But one of the best things is when a friend's child sees you across the aisle at the store and runs to you with arms wide open. We are doing more than cultivating friendships here. We are growing a family - a network of people who genuinely love each other, caring about the lives of every member.

 

I was very judgmental when I visited this small town a dozen years ago. I surveyed the area, made claims against the place and decided them to be true... A town with no Starbucks could never offer me a place where I could be inspired to write. I don't see any young families walking around so there must not be any which means I will have no friends. The churches are so small, there is no way I will be able to serve in the same capacity as my previous church with 5,000 members. There are no good restaurants anywhere so Eric and I are never going to be able to go on a date again... 

 

I have very limited eye sight. I am so thankful for a God who sees the big picture. And I am so blessed to say that He proved me wrong with every single one of those claims. Sure, there are times I get frustrated that I have to drive 25 minutes to buy organic fruit, and I really wish my favorite sushi restaurant wasn't 45 minutes away, and it sure would be nice to have the boys' doctor and dentist a little closer, BUT I love running into a friend when we are dropping our kids off at sports camp and spontaneously decide to grab a cup of coffee, and I am so thankful that we live so close to family, and I ADORE the fact that the boys can go to work with their daddy and learn what it means to work hard. Life is slower here.

 

But life is fuller here.

 

I have learned an important life lesson through this journey. Just like my momma taught me to never judge a book by its cover, or a person by their outsides, I should never judge a situation or circumstance before completely immersing myself in it. I don't believe I've changed either. I'm still the same woman - with the same wiring and past and experiences and fears as my 21 year old self - but I've allowed myself to grow. Judgmental attitudes stem from the fear of personal growth. Often we stunt our own personal growth because we are afraid of what it means for our future - and it feels safer to stay where we are. I still love visits to the city. I will never embrace the farmer's flannel. I just can't. But I have allowed myself the opportunity to embrace a life full of richness and blessings, and I have grown so much in the process.

 

Eric and I recently took the boys on a bike ride through the town. We rode through neighborhoods, down Main Street, through the fairgrounds, passed the train tracks, around the hospital, through the park and even stopped for ice cream. We invented a game as we pedalled along, waving at everyone, mostly people we knew. The game was called "You know you live in a small town when..." We laughed at some of the scenarios we had experienced since we had moved here. My favorite was "You know you live in a small town when you call to order a pizza and the pizza guy on the other end of the line asks for your name, exclaims, "We have the same last name! We must be related!" and come to find out... you are related."

 

This is the kind of town where friends trade home grown tomatoes for fresh farm eggs. It's the kind of town that rallies behind those who are ill with benefits and auctions to help support families during difficult times. It's the kind of town where everybody knows your name... (sing with me!). It's the kind of town I want my children to grow up in. It's the kind of town I want to live in.

 

I think I've come along way. For those of you that know me well, I actually started listening to country music the other day. I know, shocking. It's all about choosing to grow... blooming where you are planted. Embracing the life God has in store for you because He knows best. And He knows what I like better than I do.