Light

I’d been thinking about bringing you two to Sunday school for some time. Why? I think it’s important to have some exposure to _____. And this is where I get a little stuck. This is where I get a little wary to put myself out there or otherwise align myself with an ideology. So much of it feels off. But part of me knows a truth is there. The thing about it is that you have to find a place that’s on the same page as you. That’s not always easy. So this last week I was inspired to look into what was going on at Woodland Hills. I went there for a couple of years before I met your dad and a little time after I met your dad. I like it. I would have to say that Greg Boyd hits it dead on more than not. It feels real, it feels true, it feels challenging and it feels right. So off we went.

In the car on the way there Zoe started reciting one of the rhymes in your current favorite bed time book. “Here is the church, here is the steeple. Open the doors, see all the people!” As is somewhat normal it took me a few seconds and then I realized that you’d made that connection to the word church. Still amazes me.  I laughed and said “yep!”. When we got there and got out of the car, Zoe looked around and said “No steeple!” True, no steeple. More modern in it’s design. A la Builder’s Square 1987. Well not quite, but it was a Builder’s Square back in the day. But look at the people, Zo!

I got you registered for Sunday school and brought you back to the room. I really didn’t know what to expect. When we got to your designated room (Frogs!) you had no problem saying ‘see ya!’ to me. Apparently they keep you busy and even give you a snack. I know! A snack. Nilla wafers. After consent and a double or triple check regarding allergies. The funny thing is it was me that had some trepidation about dropping you off. Not because I didn’t trust the people there or think that you’d miss me terribly and cry “mama!” nonstop. No, it’s more that I was going to be missing what you were experiencing. I did get a bit of a preview from the volunteer, but I wasn’t going to be there to see you watch the puppet show. Or react to the story.  Which is no different than sending you to daycare or having your Dad or Grandma watch you. Except now I’m TOTALLY reliant on your storytelling skills to report back. Our adult vantage look-at-how-they’ve-grown stories vanished. Nope. Gone.  Releasing you to the world.

And I realize that that this is an important step (well I do NOW). This is an inevitable step, but it did create a pang of sadness. Little babies no more. You are not “mine”. You are in our custodianship, but you aren’t mine. I had this realization a few months back when I realized that we did have to teach you to play by the rules. Whose rules? Ours? Yes. But other people’s rules too, even if we don’t have them a) on the top of our list or b) even ON our list. Respect. We have an important job to do here. And I KNOW this is obvious, but it’s one of those knowing moments. Oh my. The splinter started. Not mine.

So I went to church, and it was good. The last song before the sermon started was ‘I Saw the Light’ credited to Hank Williams. Not what I expected, but wowsers. It made  me feel like I had made a good choice to be there. Thank you. Thank you very much. And thought provoking sermon. Another one of those ‘knowing’ moments.

            When I went to pick you guys up you were active, happy and excited to see me. So I asked “What did you guys do?”  Best I can tell is you saw some sort of puppet show with a dog. I think there was a story. Later that day you were saying something about a blind boy. You all hid from the room leader under the table and Roman peeked out. You wanted more cookies (surprise!). You followed some dog prints down the hallway and sat on a circle. Not in a circle, but ON a circle.

“Do you want to go back again?”

YES!!

Okay then.

P.S. I wrote this several days ago and later was thinking that I hope I don't come across a helicopter parent. I know the value of going off on your own....I know learning by experience is often the best. But there are points of realization that I won't be next to you each step...and that's an adjustment in thought. Oy. Little ones. I love you so much.