Her Kindergarten Hand

Well I did it. I took her to kindergarten. I walked her in that school, and then I left. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. And I've done it six times now. I had to let her go again every. single. time.

Her first day was on a Wednesday. I cried the Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday before that. How could I possibly let her go? And then I did.

And she loved it.

She went back the next week, and walking her to her classroom she told me, "I don't need you to hold my hand, Mommy." My aching mommy heart thought, "Well, at least I still get to walk next to her."

And then Friday was early release and I thought, "Oh yay. One more precious afternoon with my girl." Every second seems a gift.

And then it wasn't.

I mean, it probably was a gift. It all is, right? But it sure didn't feel like a gift. It felt miserable. She came home from a week at school and was a different child. Had I lost her already? She was emotionally fragile, she yelled, she spoke manipulatively to the air when she got upset, she was bossier than ever to her little brother - where was my daughter? I didn't have a clue what was going on, or what to do about it.

The weekend wasn't much better. I'm not quite sure what's going on. She is a mini version of myself, so normally I have a pretty good idea of what is behind most of her behaviors, but I'm feeling pretty clueless at the moment. Brought to my knees in desperation, I got from the Lord this morning:
"The fear of the Lord - that is wisdom, and to shun evil is understanding" (Job 28.28).

The fear of the Lord? What does that even mean?

I may or may not have been a little cranky this morning. It may or may not be a normal thing.

The fear of the Lord. My first thought involved following rules due to a fear of consequences, fearing the loving discipline of the Lord. Maybe there's some of that in there. But I'm beginning to think maybe it has more to do with admiration, respect, and submission.

That maybe I'm so awed by my awesome God that He commands - not by verbal command but by the  very nature of who He is - my attention, my admiration, my devotion, my respect, my pursuit, my surrender, my submission. My dragging myself to him in desperation and hope that He is enough.

Enough for me, not just for her. Because it is only when He is enough for me - when I can drag myself out of bed because I rightly fear and acknowledge the divine and sufficient wisdom of who my God is - it is only then that I have any hope of knowing how to best love and train my daughter. It is only then that I have any hope of shunning the evil that so often resides in my gut reactions to her sin. Lord, forgive me and cover us in Your grace. It is only in rightly fearing the Lord that I am empowered to shun the evil in my flesh and rightly see, rightly understand. Rightly know my daughter, both the messy and the beautiful.

This morning, after the crankiness had passed, I took my girl to school. I told her at the end of last week that that would be the last time I walked her in to her class. She had the route down and the number of parents walking their kids in was dwindling. I knew she could do it.

But she wasn't quite sure, and I'll take any excuse, really, to delay the letting go. She asked if I would still love her if she needed me to walk her in, if I would still be her mommy. Her words ripped jagged open my heart - my words had done this to her - and I told her always, that I would never speak those words again.

So I walked my precious girl in the door and down those big halls, relishing every moment, knowing it might be the last time she needs me like this. And then, maybe out of habit, or maybe because she needed it as much as I did today, her little kindergarten hand reached for mine.