It’s been nearly 30 years since I first walked the halls of that elementary school for the first time. Back when kindergarten was a half-day and I never met the girl who occupied the “afternoon kindergarten” portion of our shared desk until the last day of school. Nearly 30 years since I got in trouble for getting frustrated at the slowness of the boys in my class who didn’t know how to tie their paper shoe, so I did it for them. Nearly 30 years since I decided to kiss a boy on the cheek, somehow assuming that because my back was turned to the class that meant no one would see me.
I’m pretty sure I got in trouble for that too.
It still smells the same. Now that my husband teaches at that same school we’ve walked the halls as a family for the past ten years. His first classroom was temporarily located in what I’d known as the music room. It’s the music room again now, in the way that all things at public school tend to be cyclical. Tonight it was filled with computers, staff members, and school nurses meeting with parents who had appointments to register their kindergarten students.
We lined up in the hallway outside the gym and I watched Madi walk off with the teacher we’d requested for her first year. It was hard not to go with her, to encourage her, make sure she was doing her best. I did the less glamorous side of registration all day as I drove to various doctor’s offices for paperwork and copies and filled out even more paperwork attached to clipboards as my 5-year-old did whatever they do during kindergarten registration.
There will be a time in the work God has called you to do that you may not be in the room to see the fruit of your obedience. A time when you need to muster up as much courage and trust as your heart can manage and believe that you’ve done what you’ve been asked to do and that God will be there to stand in the gaps. This is where lessons turn into legacy and small acts of obedience open the door for God to do big things.
I won’t be able to be with Madi on her first day of school, making sure she finds friends to sit with at lunch, tries her best in class, acts respectfully toward her teacher. I won’t be able to follow up with every person who reads this blog post to make sure you were encouraged and inspired to pursue the work God has given you. I won’t be able to talk to everyone who hears me speak this weekend to make sure they heard God in their hearts louder than they heard me in their ears.
All I can do is listen to God’s leading, work hard, rest well, and have faith that the small seeds I plant in obedience will be tended and harvested in God’s perfect timing, for His glory.
My great niece goes for her kindergarten exam the 30th. I ‘ve been reminding her what a rhombus is. Thank God that even though we may not see our fruit, He does. I believe we can help shape diamonds. ( That’s what a rhombus is, and yes I had to brush up on geometry. )
Funny how that’s all we can do — and yet, it’s also the most we’ll ever be able to do. — It’s enough. More than enough. We like the control of seeing outcomes, don’t we? But that’s God’s business, not ours. Good reminder to be obedient to the task in front of us, the face in front of us, and let Him have His way with it. — And, Yay for Madi. 🙂 I pray blessings and favor over her first year. (And, for her mama’s heart to hang in there.)