A Spring of Joy

Last night our little family curled together in the middle of the hallway floor. Yes, the hallway floor. (I love impromptu moments like that!) Ash leaned his long form against Brian’s shoulder while Audrey snuggled in her Daddy’s arms. Micah folded up next to me with his head in my lap, and we prayed together for Asher’s first day of school. Later, after all three were tucked under their comforters, Ash emerged.

“Daddy? Can you sing a song to me?”

Brian picked him up and swayed in the middle of our living room with him. Whispered notes we sang together, “When I am afraid I will trust in You, I will trust in You, I will trust in You…” I watched the two of them. Asher’s long arms wrapped around Brian’s neck. Brian’s closed eyes, holding a piece of forever in his arms. Tears rushed to my eyes at the sweetness, the specialness of this moment. Where did the time go?

This morning we opened our quiver and let our little arrow fly.

I read these words this morning on my window calendar:

“Fear is something that comes upon us the moment we don’t believe that God is able to keep us, or all we care about, safe.”

The drive to school was quiet. Looking sharp in his school uniform, Ash was thinking, pondering the coming hours.

“Mom? Can you play my songs? So I can sing the Bible and it will calm me down?”

Turning immediately to truth when he is afraid, he knew who to go to in his fear. He knew God would keep him safe. Oh how much I have to learn from this small one!

Arriving at school, he immediately saw Kelly, one of his classmates, and jumped out of the car. We walked up together with Kelly’s mom, Lindy, and her brood. Every few seconds Asher would stop and tell me to slow down and wait for Kelly. And I was again amazed by my thoughtful, little guy.

Holding my hand as we climbed the steps, he turned and looked up at me and signed, “I love you” with a smile. I squeezed his hand and fought the rush of tears, the hot flush to my face. He waved to the parents and teachers he recognized, and I marveled again and again at how grown up he seemed. How READY he seemed for this new step.

Once in his classroom, he greeted others, asked his teacher a couple questions, then settled into his desk to play with the play-doh she had set up. I hugged him good-bye, thanked his teacher, and headed to the door. Turning, I called out, “Bye, Buddy.”

Looking up, head cocked, faint grin, he reached out and signed, “I love you” again. Signing back, I walked away, then stood on the sidewalk to cry with Lindy.

I am so thankful for teachers who will love my child well, who will train his mind in the foundations which we hold so dear, who will walk alongside us to give him a wonderful education and teach him so much more than I ever could!

This past year has held so much for us all. The future holds so much more.

Then I arrived home to my two other arrows. It was a morning full of building tents, train rides on rocking chairs, marker creations and reading times. Of pitching in to make a special supper for his first day of school.

“What do you want, son? Spaghetti? Pizza?”

Silence for a moment. “No, Mom. I think I’d like that turkey apple quiche you make and fruit salad, you know, with strawberries and kiwi in it, and french toast, so I can use real maple syrup.” (Whose kid does that?!)

Soon my boy man buddy will come home full of stories and exuberance, and I’ll be waiting.