Unless You Become As A Little Child...

Our kids start back to school tomorrow. We met their teachers this afternoon - both of them "new faculty" this year. These ladies had their rooms "a tip-toe" with instructions on the board for open house day. Directives were listed such as place your Kleenex boxes on the back counter, put your trapper keeper in the desk (recognized by your name taped to the top), and go out in the hall and find your new locker (again, located by your name taped to the door). There were popsicles in the cafeteria once you'd completed your home room welcome list and you could eat them while perusing displays of various kinds - boy scouts, girl scouts, running club, and the table filled with mascoted t-shirts, sweatshirts and caps.

Our kids did everything they needed to do and then moved to something they "wanted" to do. True, they wanted a popsicle, but that was a part of the afternoon's agenda to begin with. What did they want to do? Go see their teachers from last year. Not their old room or faithful desk; no, just the teacher. We found the ladies of last year and the kids received hugs and questions about their summer and blessings for the new year. But I found that desire interesting. The start of the new was not complete without giving a nod to the old. While the future lay before them, they "wanted" to honor the past, touch it and be hugged by it. Maybe they were needing to re-member themselves for the new year? Maybe while they were summer, they thought and acted like summer, but now that they are school, they were needing to put aside their summerish ways? And the desired way to do that was to look into the eyes of one who guided them while autumn leaves fell, winter winds howled, and springtime flowers bloomed. Sentiment usually gets a bad rap in our day and time. Sappy love songs or a longing for the good old days is thought of as shallow emotionalism at best and a hindrance to progress at worst. But the word actually means "a refined sensibility" - a refined way of making sense of things. And my kids have a feel for that already at ages eight and nine. They probably couldn't articulate it - probably wouldn't want to - but they know it deep within the marrow of their elementary bones. Maybe they didn't fall too far from this old oak, full of sentimental sap...My kids get an A+ for the day. Good job, guys.