Aha!

I've already had a few of these moments today and it's not even 9:00 in the morning yet.

Today T. Bone had to be at school a little early because the 4th graders have an exciting, all day field trip. Truthfully, I don't think my boy was anticipating the destination as much as the break from the normal Tuesday routine, or the peanut butter cups he packed in his bag lunch. Miss Bit and I headed over to the playground to pass the time before school. At first, the two of us were all alone on the playground. She warmed up and dried off the equipment while I cheered her on with one hand on my steaming mug of coffee and the other tucked all snug in my pocket. My first realization today was...dang it's cold! It felt like November...it is almost November (aha!).

Kids started arriving, and once the buses unloaded the playground was loud and packed. I sat on a bench and I watched my girl go back and forth and forth and back across every set of monkey bars despite the fact that her little hands felt like icicles. She came to me for a snuggle every once in awhile and I was happy to warm her up. Then she was off again only to tackle the bars two by two. I finally asked her if she saw any of her friends in the frenetic sea of pink (today is favorite color day). She spotted one. At my urging she finally initiated a 'hello,' but before long she was back at the monkey bars solo. It was then that it dawned on me (aha!) just why my girl's hands are covered in callouses: she spends every moment at recess alone on the monkey bars, and there are three recesses every day. The reality of changing schools has taken it's toll, yet I still believe it is the best thing hence the right thing for our family.

She came to me just before the bell was about to ring to confess with a quivering lip that she didn't want me to leave...that my leaving sometimes made her feel sad. Then she asked with a worried voice, "Mom, who will I live with when you die?" I understood in that moment just how much anxiety and fear this kind of rock my world change has presented to my children. I told my girl that by the time Mommy and Daddy go to heaven, she'll have a family of her own like I knew it to be a God-given truth. I suggested that she'll be a Mommy and have her own children with such confidence that you'd have thought I'd been gazing in a crystal ball. She smiled and seemed relieved. No one really wants to be alone. Not on the playground. Not in life.

The bell rang. She came in for one last hug and ran excitedly to get in line. I walked across the playground a quiet observer this morning. I saw many mom's I know waiting in line with their children. It made me think: I wanted to walk Miss Bit into school today...heck I wanted to walk her straight to the car and take her home, but she didn't need me to do that. She's the one who ran to line up with her class with a smile on her face. She didn't look back while I strained to see her for as long as I could, which was no small feat given the sea of pink swallowing the playground. Here's the thing: we need to give our children the security that comes from having deep roots, but we also need to give them the freedom that comes from having wings. Yes, it's really as simple as roots and wings, and they both take precious time to grow.