Harry started preschool today. He didn’t even look back as the teacher walked him down the hallway to his classroom. To say he’s excited is an understatement; and he doesn’t even know what school is. But he knows that big sister goes, and so he wants to go too. He almost didn’t let me pack his lunch today because he didn’t want to let go of his “unk bok”… “its aiwee’s unk bok mama” If that doesn’t just make you melt you’re probably the grinch.
His backpack is as big as he is but he insisted on carrying it. He even got mad at Adam when he picked it up to put it in the car. When I say he’s excited, I truly mean it. Now, we still have to see how the first day goes, but I have no doubt it’s gonna be a hit. I’m thankful for the sweet school and their staff who will love on him for a few hours a couple times a week. It feels so much more necessary for him than it did with Audrey, because so much of his life has been lived under the covid cloud.
We’ve made it through all the back to school festivities this year without totally losing our minds - and perhaps even with a new zeal for the year ahead; by the grace of God. This season is a busy one and for sure not the ideal way to jump into homeschooling in a new state… but God continues to provide. Especially when you consider how many times I’ve watched pictures of newly minted kindergartners in their oversized backpacks and grins. Each one tugs at my heart just a bit, yet God is gracious. My sweet George should’ve started kindergarten this year. Can you believe it? Most days I actually can’t. The memories of his day are still so vivid in my mind, that truly processing his would-be entry into kindergarten doesn’t ifeel possible. Yet here we are.
5 years have come and gone without him. Should have been first days of preschool and now kindergarten. Should have been end of year flowers for his teachers. Should have been “what do you want to be when you grow up” answers. Ticks on the ruler to watch his growth. Boxes of hand me downs for his little brother.
Audrey has her princess backpack and lunch box and Harry has his dinosaurs. They are adorable and they are perfect for each of the little image bearers that carry them. What would have been George’s obsession? What kinds of things would have interested him? Would he be the class clown? The smart and nerdy guy? Would he always have a ball? Or a book? Or army men? These are the questions we get to ask for the rest of our lives. We won’t ever get an answer, at least not this side of heaven. But one of the things I’ve learned in all these years of grief, is that I’m glad to have been given the gift of George, unanswered questions and all, because the alternative no questions and therefore, no George.
Grief is a funny thing. Just like you somehow multiply the love in your heart when you have multiple children (honestly, how does it even work?? And yet somehow it does), our heart multiplied with love when we got those two pink lines - and it didn’t just go away when we didn’t get to bring him home. Instead, it plays out in the questions. In the daydreams and imaginations of his siblings. In the what if’s and what would’s. In the tears or the small heartbreaks over the lack of back to school pictures. That’s grief. That’s love. That’s the messiness of human emotions in a world decaying under the weight of sin. All the things, all the time, wrapped up in the gift (and work) of grief.
I hope Harry has the most incredible time today. I hope he is a bright light to his teachers and classmates. And I hope, that one day, he realizes how special it is to be the 3rd kiddo in our lineup, even though he only looks like the 2nd. So here’s to all the hearts that are grieving this season - whatever it is, whatever hurts, whatever at all, know that your Father is good and gracious. And then give it all to Him. The tears, the laughter, the guilt over the tears, the guilt over the laughter, He’s there for it and in it and through it.
