I'm shedding

My children started school two days ago. Noah, who started his first year of middle school, leaves much earlier than the other two. I wake him up, he jumps in the shower while I make breakfast and pack his lunch.

The lunch packing has been nerve wracking for me. I ask what kind of sandwich he wants, but beyond that, I have all sorts of anxiety about whether or not his complementary side items are cool enough for middle school.

It is important for me to tell you that Noah would never want to hurt my feelings, and would probably just suck it up if I put an apple juice box in there, because he knows how hard I have to try – not being a natural born June Cleaver. He’s a terrific kid.

On the first day, I packed PB&J, pretzels, a nectarine, string cheese and a Capri Sun which I hoped was more like a juice bag than a juice box. Noah came home and told me that after drinking his bag he was still thirsty at lunch and could I pack a bottle of water? I’m not sure if this was secret code talk or actual need for more hydration, but he had a water bottle the next day.

I resisted every temptation to walk him to the bus stop, which is the end of our driveway, or at least sit on one of the benches outside the front door. Instead, I stood fixed by the kitchen window and fretted about the Capri Sun as he stood there and waited by himself for the bus to come.

Off he went, without a look back.

It was different with the younger two. I packed all their favorites in their lunchboxes (one of which says, “High School Musical” across the front). We walked to the end of the driveway together where I took multiple pictures of them as we waited. We remembered our manners, how we give everything a try even if we’re not good at it, and that God is the One who gives us value. They both kissed me as the bus rounded the curve, and waved from their seats as it drove away.

I was just thinking the other day that I wonder what it would be like if I could shed my grown-up skin. I’m sure that I wouldn’t be such a study in contradictions, and yet I often find that grown ups are as good at pretending as kids are – if not better. As I watch Noah grow, I understand his need to do things differently, but it also makes me reflect on the growing sense of independence from God that I developed as I got older. Perhaps what Jesus meant by child-like faith, was just an acceptance of the need for total dependence on Him and complete interdependence on one other. Just eagerly waving to one another and sharing juice boxes without fretting about what anyone thinks.

Yes, I was sitting outside on the bench by the front door waiting for Noah to come home. I sort of felt like Forrest Gump. I took a book out with me, and as soon as I heard the familiar sound of the bus engine up the street, I quickly opened it and pretended like I’d been reading for hours. I only casually looked up after he was well off the bus and it had driven away.

Noah smiled at me sitting there. He walked toward me and sat right down next to me. One by one he described his teachers, his new friends, his failed attempts to open his locker and his dictator of a math instructor. I laughed and listened and realized that no matter how big we all get, we really do need each other.