God's gifts from the end of a season
I used to chuckle to myself as mothers cried while dropping off their children for their first day of Kindergarten. Tomorrow I may be one of those mothers. So much has changed since I taught before I had my own kids. I have spent the last six years with one special little girl. She made me a mother. She has taught me about life and love and working for things that last. And that special little girl starts Kindergarten tomorrow. She is ready. But I do not feel ready. Would I ever feel ready?
I even had a whole extra year with her home. She missed the cut-off to make it into school last year by being born a few hours too late. And that was okay with me. I had an extra year with her, and she had an extra year to become good friends with her little brother.
And now is the end of a season. The end of six years of our time, our schedule, our whims. And now begins thirteen years of school nights, summer vacations, and weekends. It feels... restricted... when we have had such freedom. This is a journey -- these thirteen years -- she will begin as a child... and end as a young lady.
I think that is why it feels so momentous. Here begins the next part of the journey of my child preparing to leave home.
As only the hand of Providence works, we so fittingly read tonight the end of the eighth Little House on the Prairie book. As Grandma Julie read the final pages, of Laura leaving home to marry Almanzo, and Adrianna cuddled between her grandparents, and I listened closely by, we heard of another end of a season of a long-ago time. We have been on this journey with Laura for the past year, reading together of her journey from childhood to young adulthood. And we read of her final preparations for marriage on the eve of Adrianna's first step into the world on her own. What a poetic ending and beginning.
I know God's sweet hand of provision is before us. Already God has blessed us by allowing her to go to the school I taught at, the one Scott attended as a child. Already God has given her friends she knew from preschool in her class. I pray He will use us as a blessing, a light at her school.
To the end of one season. To the beginning of the next.
and a season for every activity under the heavens: 2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot...
I even had a whole extra year with her home. She missed the cut-off to make it into school last year by being born a few hours too late. And that was okay with me. I had an extra year with her, and she had an extra year to become good friends with her little brother.
And now is the end of a season. The end of six years of our time, our schedule, our whims. And now begins thirteen years of school nights, summer vacations, and weekends. It feels... restricted... when we have had such freedom. This is a journey -- these thirteen years -- she will begin as a child... and end as a young lady.
I think that is why it feels so momentous. Here begins the next part of the journey of my child preparing to leave home.
I know God's sweet hand of provision is before us. Already God has blessed us by allowing her to go to the school I taught at, the one Scott attended as a child. Already God has given her friends she knew from preschool in her class. I pray He will use us as a blessing, a light at her school.
To the end of one season. To the beginning of the next.
Ecclesiastes 3
1 There is a time for everything,and a season for every activity under the heavens: 2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot...
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