First Days

Henry Finn, age 2 1/2, on his first official day of pre-school at Portland Christian School.  He will be in the same classroom with the same teacher (Miss Malou) that Madelyn has had for the last three years and we couldn't be more pleased.  He has been dropping sis off and picking her up from this classroom since he was born, and it's now finally his turn to stay.  He was a bit anxious this past weekend and said several times "I don't want to go to Maddie's school; I want to go to Henry's school."  I reminded him of the two motorcycles in the big bin of various vehicles that I always had to pry from his fingers when it was time for us to leave, and whadaya know...he perked right up.

It was a good day.  Drop off went well, Miss Malou reported that he did a great job through the day, and he ran at full speed across the playground with a huge smile on his face when I arrived to pick him up.  But here's what I will say about my (albeit limited) experience with "first school days" thus far: they are a mind v. heart battle regarding the illusion of safety and control in our children's lives.  My heart started to quiver as I drove away from him this morning thinking "Will they watch him closely enough on the big playground?  He's still so small.  Will he get any hugs?  Enough smiles?  He's very different from Maddie...with they just compare him to her all day long?"  I called Kurt.  My voice shook a bit as we talked, but I never actually cried.  I know, of course, that the reality is that I have very little control over the safety (physical, emotional, or otherwise) of my children.  God gives us our brains and we are to use them, but to think that I can be smart enough or organized enough to create a world where my children are immune from danger or fear or anxiety or loneliness is emotionally depleting and spiritually lethal, for both me and them.  We have had three fabulous years with Portland Christian, and I trust them completely with my son's small spirit.  I don't know exactly what words they will use with him throughout the day or how close they will stand to him on the playground, but despite what my heart wants to fear, I know he is in excellent care.  And next Monday when I leave Madelyn for the first time at her new school where we do not have three years of trust built up, I will (do my best to) choose to trust her and her bravery and confidence and kind-heartedness and honesty.