Fear and worry is something that happens around the start of September. It’s been around the family home this morning as children get ready for new terms.
Recently I heard from a friend who was worried about their child starting school. I can relate to that as Joe has just left to start as a junior in the school across the road from where he was last year. Last year I was worried because Tom was starting at secondary school. Last night I could see a kind of fear, or maybe more accurately described as disorientation, on the faces of the new students at SEITE.
Parents fear is strange. I know logically that Joe will have a great time. I know logically that Joe will return from school tonight raving about all the new things he can do as a junior that he could not do as an infant. I know when I ask ‘was it ok?’, he will give that ‘are you stupid’ look with an ‘yeah, of course!’
But, that logic, that reason does not make the fear or the worry disappear. Irrational fear that things may go wrong, that he may dislike it, that he may get bullied, that he may not get on with his teacher, that he may return home in tears. It’s interesting to note that I sense a fear, or maybe an ‘ache’, not for me, but for my children.
It’s a horrible feeling of helplessness – wanting to be there for my little boy, or my little girl, to ‘protect’ and yet knowing that would be the exact wrong thing to do and that it would hinder their development. Instead of protecting, the right thing is to trust. To trust that how we have brought them up has been ‘good enough’, and for us, to trust that God cares for them as he does for us.
That’s the big thing I have noticed over the past few years. Earlier, when Sarah and I had no children responding to God’s call was fairly easy. People looked at us as if we were mad when we gave up good jobs, took 50% pay cuts, traveled to the other side of the country, walked streets on a Saturday night. We did it though because we knew God was with us and we knew we could trust ourselves to God.
Accepting that for myself has never been a problem. Accepting that for my children is. I can cope with comments about my faith, but to think that my kids could have to miss out, or have a hard time because of my faith is, I am finding, a much bigger fear to cope with, and a different faith is needed to work with it. A faith that acknowledges that God is a serving God. A God who wishes to serve and care for all, not just those who profess our, or my, style of faith. A God who demands a trust that allows me to let go.
So, I sit here and work and every now and again wonder what might be happening, offer up a little prayer, work and wonder a bit more.
I can’t seem to let go entirely, but maybe in my desire to let go, in my attempts to let go, I am actually letting go.