Rocks from the River
When the Israelites crossed the Jordan River, they were instructed to take "twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites... [carry] them over with them to their camp, where they [would] put them down." [Joshua 4:2-9] The purpose of this exercise was to have a visible reminder of where they had come from, who had led them, and who would still be with them in the land in which they were arriving.
In my life, I have always believed in finding ways to mark events. It's a way of following the Israelite example of taking a stone from the river to mark a significant passage of time, or a lesson I have been learning. For instance, I had for many years, a wooden cottage that lit up from the inside. I bought it at a time when our family was going through some very deep waters and I wanted a visual to remind me to HOPE in God. Another time, I bought a special clock to mark the 15th anniversary of working at my main job. [I received a pin for this occasion, but it was so small, I needed something just a little more substantial to mark the occasion.]
Tomorrow marks the end of my sojourn in the land of "school mom". I will be crossing the river and entering the new land of "launch-pad mom". My youngest child will officially be finished high school, and although there are a few little items like exams left, we will never enter the halls of the school as parents of students again. This fact has been uppermost in my mind for several weeks now.
When I was mulling over the many possibilities of how I would react when this day came, I imagined it might be a little like the first day(s) of school, when I felt bereft and alone. I was sad that my days as a mom of preschoolers had officially come to an end. I realized I would never have the freedom to pack everyone into the vehicle and head somewhere fun if I felt like it. No more spontaneous picnics in the middle of the week. I wouldn't be able to choose the friends my kids hung out with, or keep them safe(ish) inside the walls of my house. School parameters wouldn't allow me to do that.
Every first day of school since the day my daughter entered kindergarten 18 years ago has been tinged with an overwhelming sense of melancholy. I anticipated that the end of this journey of school daze would be tinged with the same sadness. However, now that this milestone has come upon me, I find myself in a particularly celebratory mood.
As of tomorrow, I will no longer have to:
* locate lost permission slips
* run forgotten lunches up to the school
* sign waiver forms and worry the child will lose a limb the day after the form is returned
* think of fabulous, yet cheap-like-borscht teacher gifts (best one was notepads I got printed from a template I made myself. <$3 each)
* come up with monthly school or school bus fees
* take part in fundraising efforts
* chase down kids to get their homework done
* listen to the fall-out from school yard drama - and couldn't we all do with a little less of that!
* go to parent-teacher interviews (dreaded those with a passion - "yes Mr. So and so, I am HIS/HER mother and what were you saying about projects not being handed in on time?")
* say to the child: "I know you want to watch the end of this show, but it's a school night and no you cannot stay up any longer"
* try to think up cool costumes for 'crazy hat day' or Hallowe'en, or "twin day" or "fake injury day" (who am I kidding? I never did that anyway)
* look up information of the remote Galapagos islands to pass onto the budding geography major
* pay fees of any sort [late or otherwise] for choir and band uniforms, overdue library books, textbooks, field trips, group presents, athletics, end-of-year celebrations, beginning-of-year supplies...!
* stay up way too late helping with homework I will never hand in, or studying for tests I will never take
* run to the store at odd hours to get supplies for science fair/cooking class/art
* play rock-paper-scissors with my husband to see who has to get up at the crack-of-ridiculously-early to ferry kids to the school for an overnight field trip, or band practice, or citizenship club
I could go on and on, but I think you can see why this end of the school journey will be marked with a celebration stone. I am eternally grateful to have the opportunity to look back and see God's hand in each of my kids' journeys,and although I don't know what this new 'land' will look like in my life, I know He will continue to be with us. Now ......I just have to decide which stone from the "school river" I will take to bring with me.
* A smooth river stone? - a pedicure perhaps?
* A big stone? - a tree to plant so I can look at it and measure it's growth from year to year?
* A diamond? - Now that's a stone!
In my life, I have always believed in finding ways to mark events. It's a way of following the Israelite example of taking a stone from the river to mark a significant passage of time, or a lesson I have been learning. For instance, I had for many years, a wooden cottage that lit up from the inside. I bought it at a time when our family was going through some very deep waters and I wanted a visual to remind me to HOPE in God. Another time, I bought a special clock to mark the 15th anniversary of working at my main job. [I received a pin for this occasion, but it was so small, I needed something just a little more substantial to mark the occasion.]
Tomorrow marks the end of my sojourn in the land of "school mom". I will be crossing the river and entering the new land of "launch-pad mom". My youngest child will officially be finished high school, and although there are a few little items like exams left, we will never enter the halls of the school as parents of students again. This fact has been uppermost in my mind for several weeks now.
When I was mulling over the many possibilities of how I would react when this day came, I imagined it might be a little like the first day(s) of school, when I felt bereft and alone. I was sad that my days as a mom of preschoolers had officially come to an end. I realized I would never have the freedom to pack everyone into the vehicle and head somewhere fun if I felt like it. No more spontaneous picnics in the middle of the week. I wouldn't be able to choose the friends my kids hung out with, or keep them safe(ish) inside the walls of my house. School parameters wouldn't allow me to do that.
Every first day of school since the day my daughter entered kindergarten 18 years ago has been tinged with an overwhelming sense of melancholy. I anticipated that the end of this journey of school daze would be tinged with the same sadness. However, now that this milestone has come upon me, I find myself in a particularly celebratory mood.
As of tomorrow, I will no longer have to:
* locate lost permission slips* run forgotten lunches up to the school
* sign waiver forms and worry the child will lose a limb the day after the form is returned
* think of fabulous, yet cheap-like-borscht teacher gifts (best one was notepads I got printed from a template I made myself. <$3 each)
* come up with monthly school or school bus fees
* take part in fundraising efforts
* chase down kids to get their homework done
* listen to the fall-out from school yard drama - and couldn't we all do with a little less of that!
* go to parent-teacher interviews (dreaded those with a passion - "yes Mr. So and so, I am HIS/HER mother and what were you saying about projects not being handed in on time?")
* say to the child: "I know you want to watch the end of this show, but it's a school night and no you cannot stay up any longer"
* try to think up cool costumes for 'crazy hat day' or Hallowe'en, or "twin day" or "fake injury day" (who am I kidding? I never did that anyway)
* look up information of the remote Galapagos islands to pass onto the budding geography major
* pay fees of any sort [late or otherwise] for choir and band uniforms, overdue library books, textbooks, field trips, group presents, athletics, end-of-year celebrations, beginning-of-year supplies...!
* stay up way too late helping with homework I will never hand in, or studying for tests I will never take
* run to the store at odd hours to get supplies for science fair/cooking class/art
* play rock-paper-scissors with my husband to see who has to get up at the crack-of-ridiculously-early to ferry kids to the school for an overnight field trip, or band practice, or citizenship club
I could go on and on, but I think you can see why this end of the school journey will be marked with a celebration stone. I am eternally grateful to have the opportunity to look back and see God's hand in each of my kids' journeys,and although I don't know what this new 'land' will look like in my life, I know He will continue to be with us. Now ......I just have to decide which stone from the "school river" I will take to bring with me.
* A smooth river stone? - a pedicure perhaps?
* A big stone? - a tree to plant so I can look at it and measure it's growth from year to year?
* A diamond? - Now that's a stone!
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