I wake this morning and lay in bed thinking words. I’ve been dreaming words all night. And numbers.
I dress, come downstairs and open the windows, feel fresh begin to fill the house with its dirty floors and flip flops scattered like leaves.
The September calendar on the dry erase board is blank. Sici and I plan to fill it today, and I will accept the filled boxes as only part of what this month will be.
So much I don’t know. So much I can’t make happen.
We have a bonus day off today before school starts tomorrow, and I can feel the ready pushing edges. Part of me wishes we’d just start and be off to the races. More of me feels glad for one last day to prep our backpacks, sit in the grass, start the day slow and easy, give extra squeezes.
Yesterday Michael, the girls and I ate ice cream and played at the park together, and the girls looked so big. J flew from the monkey bars with fearlessness and panache, Sici ably threw the foam Texas Tech football with her dad. Lala nearly overflowed the baby swing before she returned to her usual big girl swinging spot.
I captured the way Lala said seesaw, tongue thrusting through teeth on the s’s. I thought about where she’d gotten that — seesaw, and not teeter totter. I’m glad she says seesaw.
We saw a mama and her boy — dear people we know from school — and talked about expectations and learning styles and transitions. The things we can know and the things we won’t until we’re sitting in the classroom, next to those kids, with the teacher speaking from the front of the room.
Last week, I read an open letter from Glennon Merton of Momastery to her kids. It’s a letter that she shares with them in some variation each year, talking about a rejected little boy named Adam — a boy she wished she’d befriended. Really, do go read the letter. It’s amazing.
Her words reminded me of a second grade girl named Sheila, who smelled like potty, and who didn’t have friends. Sheila’s blond hair was impossibly frizzy. She was taller than normal, and her clothes never fit right.
On a long car ride to visit my childhood friends and their kids, this letter inspired me to tell my girls about Sheila. How I was afraid of being too close to the girl who smelled bad. How I was just nice enough, but didn’t go out of my way to defend her or befriend her.
I didn’t know what to do, but maybe I could have smiled at her more. Asked her to play. Made her an extra nice valentine. Said, “I like your shirt.”
I wish I’d been less fearful of what I didn’t know. I wish I’d spoken up for what I did.
My girls’ eyes held unblinking, big and wide, in the rearview mirror as I told them about what Sheila’s life might have been. We don’t know. We just don’t know, I said. So many on the inside, but all of us know what it’s like to feel outside. Make it your job to help bring people in.
We are put on this world to love God and to share that love with others. So, I want you to give your best to math and writing (especially writing), but most important, I told them, I want you to give love.
So much we don’t know on the cusp of this year, but we who know love — we’ve got to give it away.
Today, as I do many Tuesdays, I’m linking up with “Just Write” (an exercise in free writing everyday moments), at The Extraordinary Ordinary.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
What a delightful end to summer and beginning of school. As always you bring love to your readers. May they all have a wonderful school year.
Thank you so much, Mom. We appreciate all the ways you give your love away and are starting to look forward to this school year. It’s gonna be good. :)
I love how you shared those 2nd grade memories of yours with your girls as a lesson for them. What a tangible way to teach them the importance of loving others! I pray that as Aubrey begins her school career today (it’s hard to believe I just dropped off my baby girl at her 1st day of Pre-K), she’ll understand that what is most important is letting God’s love shine through her to others.
May God bless your family’s transition into the school year!
Thank you, my friend. God bless your family, too, and sweet little Aubrey on her 1st day…and all year. It is so hard to believe she’s a big pre-K’er (in her cute little uniform). May you feel peace, comfort and joy in this big transition. I know how good and hard these times can be. xoxo!
I read that same Momastery entry and my mind went back to elementary school, too. How I “broke up” with a friend who others found weird, because I was afraid they’d start to think I was weird, too. It’s something I’ve regretted for years, thinking of the pain I caused this girl!
Thank you so much for your comment. I am so sad to read your words because I relate to that pain of regret. I hold hope that some of those early experiences of handling situations poorly and inflicting pain on others may have informed me, without even knowing it, about the kind of adult I want(ed) to be and the kind of people I want my kids to be.
Love it that you were able to take your “regret” and present it to your girls…we can’t make their hearts do what we want them to do; but we can give them options to think about and to give them something that might just “click” when the opportunity knocks on their own door! I am so in love with Glennon’s blog and last week she and one of my other favorites, Kelle Hampton, Enjoying the Small Things connected with each other. And now I love your blog too! Happy school year to you all.
Thank you, Martha. Glennon and Kelle are both amazing. I appreciate your comment, and I love what you say — that we cannot make our children’s hearts do what we desire, but we are seed planters, right? Hoping and praying that our words and love will find soil to bloom at the right time.
LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the last line in this post, Ashley! “But we who know love – we’ve got to give it away.” I think that might be a perfect description of the way I’d like to live my life. Thank you. Barb
I’m not sure if this is Barb or Roberto writing, but either way, thank you, friend. I so appreciate your comment. That line is how I want to live my life too. Only by grace.
This is powerful. Such a good reminder. I know I get caught up in the do your best and be a good student chants, I need to to remind my boys of the love aspect too. For we will be known by our love.
So much to balance as a mama, isn’t there? I just hope and pray I say the right thing at the right time — it’s all needed for life, isn’t it?
Yes, indeed.