And the tears came

School began this week.  I've been ready for it, although summer seemed to fly so quickly.  I'm thankful for that.  Hope that you had a good summer.

I remember in March realizing one day that I was ready for my boys to be in first grade.  They needed it.  They were ready for it.  I was ready for them to be somewhere else all day.  I even remember talking with others about it: perhaps I even blogged about it.  Noel was ready for Kindergarten.  K doesn't seem like as big of a deal to me.  In our program at school, kids are gone just half a day.  Noel and I would still be spending a majority of the day together. . . including eating lunch.  Good stuff.

So to recap: school started and I aware of what grade my children are in and where they need to go.  Though I still haven't purchased everything on the school supply list (I couldn't find a clipboard at Meijer: what is up with that?), I managed to get the rest of the stuff together.  It didn't all happen on the first day, but it happened.  :)

Tuesday morning arrived and I woke up the ducks with great joy.  I took many pictures.  Gary got up early so that he could participate in the fun (a.k.a. Shanda told him he needed to be up and dressed and be a part of the fun).  I even got my kids to school way too early!  Through it all: the early morning devotions where I prayed for them, making them a special breakfast, taking pictures, driving to school, taking more pictures,  seeing their names on desks, leaving with just my Penny in tow. . . not one tear.  In a way it was very strange.  I'm a crier and I celebrate beginnings and endings.  I know exactly where I was the first time I opened my first classroom door.  I stopped and remembered.  I stopped the last time I walked down Girl's Hill at Camp Roger as a counselor.  I stopped and celebrated and knew that I would never be here again.  I can still see and smell it.  Tuesday?  "Good-bye!  Love you!  Don't fight?"  (For those who may be new to the Sprick family. . .the ducks are all in the same classroom.  Every day I pray for no fighting.  I need to because every day in our house there is fighting.)  I didn't "take a moment".  My boys were leaving me for the whole day.  I knew that I'd be packing lunches for the next 17 years.  I knew that I was entrusting my boys to someone else. . . someone else would be with them more than me.  I knew that time is flying and soon they will be in high school.  See????  Lots of emotions, yet no tears.

No tears when they first came home.  No tears when video was posted of them learning and speaking Mandarin.  No tears when school was "awesome".  No tears when they were so crabby and I was thinking about telling them to go to bed at 5:15.

Tears came at the hilltop praise and prayer service.  Zeeland Christian hosts a dinner/service/open house to dedicate the beginning of the school year.  Cool.  Good.  I've been know to cry in church: God is so awesome!  BUT. . . the tears didn't happen while I was sitting in the audience.  No.  I had been asked to pray on behalf of the parents.  I was honored and excited.  I love to speak in public and I love to pray so I eagerly said "yes".  There I was. . . standing in front of a microphone. . . in front of some folks I know and many that I don't know at all.  I lost it.  I began to cry. . . I could feel it coming on. . . and I was praying.  Blurbing into a microphone ain't pretty.  I did have the sense though that though I was embarrassed, it was o.k.  God can work through tears.  Often when someone cries in public there can occur a sense of empathy or sometimes you feel awkward for them.  Thankfully, most eyes were closed so I didn't have to see the awkwardness.  I high-tailed it out of there after the service.  I don't like the "nice prayer". . . especially when the presentation wasn't so "nice".

So the tears came, not in the way that I would have envisioned or liked, but they came.  Tears that my boys are growing up.  Tears that I am not going to be their "primary" every day.  Tears that their wings are spreading and their flights without me are getting longer.  Tears that My Father knows them so intimately and is carefully guarding them every day.  Tears that it is such an honor for me to be a mama.  Tears that I can't believe how much love I can have for these amazing little people.  Tears that there will be struggles and hurts at school that I can't protect them from.  Tears.  It is good.  Embarrassing, but good.