The sun has hit the snooze button and we creep out of the garage in the darkness. Frost glistens on the grass and roofs and wreaths that are hanging on our windows. The car heat is turned on high and blowing on our feet. We have the morning count down. “Nine more days until Christmas. Three more days of school.”
We sit in silence and sleepiness as we join the early birds on the road and continue on our journey to school. I take a sip of my morning energy. Coffee. I take another sip. I have been through the check list before we left the house, but I can not help but run it through my head again. Is Madison prepared for school? Plaid skirt and polo shirt? Check. The weather is cold. Fleece and leggings. Check. The weather is colder than that. Heavy coat. Check. Gloves in her backpack because she doesn’t want to wear them but incase she changes her mind. Check.
But at this point, that is definitely not enough. She is still not even close to ready for school. Morning preparations: Daddy made her scrambled eggs and she had a glass of water. Check. I supervised the brushing of her teeth. Check. Combed her hair and pulled it into her favorite do, a ponytail. Check. Face washed. Check. Oh, so far from being prepared for school.
Healthy school lunch in her lunchbox, in her backpack. Check. Two healthy snacks in small animal shaped containers in her front backpack pocket. Check. Water bottle. Check. Homework folder in binder. Check. Binder in backpack. Check. She is not ready for this day at all.
With my eyes open, as I am driving down the road, “Madison, let’s pray:
Thank you for Madison. I pray that she will enjoy learning about your creation today. I pray she will be kind and patient and obedient. I pray she will know when to talk and when she needs to listen. Thank you for her school and her teacher and her friends. Thank you for Daddy. We pray that he will have a wonderful day at work. Please keep us safe and healthy today. Please help us to do your will today.
We love you Jesus. Amen
And now she is ready. She is prepared for this day. We roll to a stop. She unbuckles and gives me a kiss. I return the favor on her cheek. “I love you. Goodbye.”
Jesus is going with her. It is the only way that I can let her go.