I glanced in the rearview mirror at my second grader as we pulled into the parking lot on the first day of school. He seemed okay so far. But we had had false hope before.
For the past two years Paul had woken up every school morning begging to stay home. He pleaded with me in the car, tears spilling down his cheeks. Day after day I walked him to class, where he latched on to me until the teacher pried him off. We were both miserable. I can’t take this for another year, God, I prayed.
I had prayed from the very start, and I wondered why God was taking so long to step in. Just when it seemed Paul’s confidence was growing, he would have a setback. If we can’t get over this hurdle, Lord, I worried, how will we face the bigger life problems later on?
During the summer I had read a couple of childcare books that offered helpful suggestions. I was even able to find counseling for Paul. He seemed to be maturing. But as we approached the drop-off point at school, I was the one who was a nervous wreck.
I came to a stop. Paul took a deep breath and said, “Bye, Mom.” Then he jumped from the car and raced to be with his friends.
He hadn’t even looked back. As sudden as the moment felt, our victory had been a long struggle. God doesn’t always make our problems disappear. He takes us through them, teaching us to trust him as we go.
