I remember this moment like it was yesterday.
Delaney wasn’t even 24 hours old.
Amazingly, one day followed the next. I had a crawler, then a walker, then a babbler and now a talker.
She is growing into this little person and it is a true miracle to witness.
This Fall will be the first step in my ‘wow-she’s-really-growing-up’ test. Delaney will enter kindergarten. I’ll help her put her little uniform on, pack her a lunch, drive her to school and let her go.
Ok – serious sappy issues over here. I just teared up as I wrote that – and all this time I’ve had myself pegged as the mom that was looking forward to having a kindergartner in school. What if I was wrong?
Tonight was a mini-orientation for parents sending kids to school for the first time. Our priest spoke. He is Heavenly. No exaggeration. No play on words. He really is a divine human being.
He told a story about a little girl who had a cleft palate. He said she was always embarrassed. Always shy. She often told kids she had been cut by glass, because somehow, it felt more acceptable than saying she was born different. She was positive no one would ever love her the way her family did.
One of the teachers, Mrs. Leonard (whom the little girl described as ’round, smiling and full of love’), conducted annual hearing tests – the kids would face away from her and place their hands over their ears. She would say one of two sentences, “What color are your shoes?” or “Is the ocean blue?” and was somehow able to determine a child’s hearing (clearly we’ve come a long way since then, yes?)
But when this little girl entered the room, she turned her back on Mrs. Leonard and waited patiently for one of the two sentences. She instead heard 7 words that changed her life.
“I wish you were my little girl.”
This, our priest explained, is how every child at our school should feel. Don’t think I didn’t cry. I did. Just a little. And I still can’t get rid of the lump in my throat.
I love knowing my child will be so very loved. I’m petrified at the thought of having so little time with her left. I’m struck down by the guilt that I sometimes can’t wait to have her in school.
But there is no going back. Time, at least in our house, keeps right on ticking.
If you find a way to put it on pause, even for a little bit, you’ll let me know, won’t you?
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