Last week I was the "hall mom" for the final day of our co-op, giving me a bird's eye view (and ear) to what the children said on their last class day. One mop headed boy trying to control his urge to run raced by with a friend, moss covered bird house in hand, declaring, "The only thing I'll never outgrow is peanut butter sandwiches!" :)
He might even outgrow those someday. One thing we can not stop is time. When we were serving as missionaries in Asia, home schooling was a piece of our picture. It worked well for us then, and it was a joy in so many ways. Since I have a degree in Education and have worked as a classroom teacher and adjunct professor for Elem. Ed students, it was a natural way to use my training. When we returned to the US, we transitioned our kids into a private school and then into a public school. For the past 3 years, though, we have schooled Jacob at home for Middle School.
|Me forcing Jacob to have a pic with me! ;)|
When parents would bring first graders to my classroom on the first day of school, they would always cry .... the parents, not the kids. ;) There's no doubt that it's never easy to "Let go of a season" and move on to a new one. It's exciting and sweet in so many ways, but it's also bittersweet. I'm feeling some of it.
Today I'm sharing with a MOPS group as they meet for the last time this year; some of them will move on from MOPS, becoming "school aged kids' mommies." From the life of Hannah, I will encourage them that "We can let go to a season if we hold on to God." In her prayer of praise (also a lyric poem), she said, "There is no one like our God" (1 Sam. 2:1-10). Her confidence in who God is and in what He does enabled her to let her Samuel move to a new season, while she held on to God. We can let go and hold on too.
In honor of the MOPS of Erin Presbyterian, my own season changing, and the little boy who won't outgrow PB sandwiches, enjoy a "lyric poem" of my own ... "Letting Go, Holding On."
My heart is so amazed that I have made it through this time
of sippy sups and learning sounds and chanting nursery rhymes.
Some days I thought I wouldn't make it through while still alive.
"Far away" is what I thought of things like turning five.
The little ones that dangled from my fingers and my jeans
seemed many years from words like"school,sleep overs,cars &teens."
But as the seasons move along, I'm swept along and know
the seeds that I have watered are meant to sprout and grow.
Letting go a little with the passing of these days
gives me pause to stop and bow, to ask for help, to praise.
It would be hard to welcome change and think that joy was gone,
but empty hands are full because my hands are holding on.
And little ones remind that when clinging as we must,
loving, strong, and steady is the hand that we can trust.
So I will greet new seasons, since I can not stop the clock.
I'll let go as I need to, while I'm holding to the Rock.