She’s just as intense as she was in those early days of colic. Those days when I thought that parents of newborns were sleepless because they all cried into the wee hours of the night, not realizing that some newborns actually did sleep in the all too short time between feedings.
But she’s mellowed. She listens deeply–when she wants to. Her intensity is positive more than negative and she has a distinct perspective on the world that surprises me every day. She’s sensitive and cares about people and animals right down to her toes. She has this sprinkling of freckles on her nose that I find a little bit irresistible. She giggles easily and the sound is still the kind that you just want to bottle up for its lightness.
She starts first grade tomorrow. First grade.
My mama heart is anxious. We loved her Kindergarten teacher last year… Could we love this teacher just as much? All of the mama doubts are swirling in my head. We didn’t super-focus on school and learning things many days this summer despite all of my best intentions. Has she fallen behind? Is she going to struggle? Will I be able to help her if she does and shield her from the heartache I know that will cause her? Will she make friends? Will I get her there on time? Are the cracks in *my* “I’ve got it all under control,” mama facade going to start to show?
I laid in bed last night during the same wee hours in which I used to rock and hush her tumbling these things over and over in my mind. I tried to cast them all on the Lord as the verse tells us to do, but my heart was a long time in settling.
I’m trying. So much of this mothering journey really is walking by faith. So much of it, for me at least, seems to be walking by faith that my failings as a mama–and they are myriad–will be smoothed over and filled in by God. I haven’t done it perfectly and I don’t expect perfect, but there are still a list of things I have to bring to God each day and say–“I messed it up. Again. Help me do better tomorrow.”
Tomorrow I’ll walk my little freckle face in the door of that big school and she’ll be gone in there the whole day. I’ll hold my breath a little bit until I can pick her up again. Despite the anxiety monsters that are jumping around inside my head and my heart she will be fine (and probably far less nervous than I will!) and tomorrow/this school year will not be my final judgement as a parent. On top of all that, God will help me do better tomorrow. And his mercies will be new the day after that and the day after that.
I can’t wait to hear what she has to say at the end of the day. I can’t wait to see where this faith-walk will lead us this year.