You'd have thought he was embarking on the Baatan death march.
Yesterday morning, our youngest son prepared for the first day of the new year of Sunday school. And I should add, this was not just any first day. This was the first day of going to Middle School Sunday school. It never occurred to me that this might prove anything but routine. I mean, after all, how many times have our children gone to Sunday school over the years? Hmm, well, just goes to show, you mustn't go on autopilot when it comes to your children...though that can be mighty easy and tempting to do.
We started out well enough getting ready for the morning. Dressed--check. Teeth brushed--check (after a reminder and a deep sigh). Grab Bible--check. Run out the door to the car--well, check, but it was at this moment that things started to slooooooow down a bit.
Arrive at church and jump out of the car and rush into Sunday school so we'd be almost on time--NOT check. Instead, my son inexplicably leaned over in the back seat for several moments.
"What on earth are you doing, let's go!" I shouted impatiently as I waited to lock the car doors. When the leaning over continued, I looked in the window and repeated my question--with a little more impatient frustration beginning to sound in my voice and attitude.
"I"m stretching" he responded tersely. Stretching?! Since when did he "stretch" to touch his toes before exiting the car?! I'm starting to get a wee bit suspicious.
And then began the Bataan death march. I'm telling you, slugs could've walked that parking lot faster than he did. Not to mention the amazingly circuitous route he navigated around the cars and cones and, I'm sure, ants and centipedes. It took us forever to walk the normally 2 minute walk from parking lot to front door. Now I'm really getting suspicious.
I hear an exasperated voice declare, "You GO ON! I'm coming. I know where to goooo!"
Okay, here's where I'd like to say I'm such a remarkable, sweet, patient, and wise mom that I slowed and stopped and went and hugged my child and told him how much I loved him and how much God loves him and how much everybody loves him and how much his class will love him....
But, that, of course, would not be what happened. Not on planet Fountain. If you want to hear that story, go read one of those supermom books. Sigh.
Here's what happened in our non-supermom world...cause here's the thing. I'm not a super-mom but I do have a SUPER-GOD!!! So, I praise Him that our Lord broke through--even in my aggravated state--with His still small voice that revealed that, just perhaps, our little guy was the teeniest bit intimidated about this new venture into the Middle School Sunday school world. Thank You for Your grace, Father.
So, impatient Mama finally slowed down and said "I'll wait. I'm going to go in with you to make sure you find the new classroom."
This was not greeted with excitement. O noooo.
"No, you do NOT NEED TO DO THAT!" It was that strange mixture between feeling intimidation as the new guy and absolute mortification at his parent showing her face anywhere near his fellow middle schoolers. O well, what can you say? That's part of a parent's job description: embarrass your children...and I'm pretty good at it.
Anyway, we continued the snail/slug/sloth pace down the halls of Broughton High School (where our church meets). After what seemed like an eternity, we had almost arrived at the door, when he announced: "I need to go the bathroom. You go on! I'm fine!" O yeah, I know that trick. It's amazing how frequently my youngest needs to run to the restroom when it's time for homework or chores...or, apparently, Middle School Sunday school.
"No problem, " I actually replied calmly. (Thank You Jesus--this was not me!) "I'll just wait right here outside the door. As soon as you're finished, we'll head on to class." Okay, I have to admit it, evil mom that I am, I was grinning at the time as I imagined his chagrin and heard his deep, deep sigh from inside the restroom.
"I'm still here waiting, sweetheart, whenever you're ready." Now another admission: I'm also tapping my foot like machine gun fire because I'm hating how late I'm now going to be to our adult Sunday School class. I was so determined to arrive at least close to on time, and here I was again, surely the last one to arrive and feeling like a dead-beat. O well, sometimes you have to make hard choices in life and this was one of them. Look like a dead-beat, ne'er-do-well to my friends in my class or hang in there with my middle schooler and "encourage" him to get to his class.
I chose wisely, and when I finally arrived in my seat, I prayed to myself that God would encourage his little heart and bless him in that class.
The good news--we finally made it. I'm quite certain had anyone been timing us, we'd now be in the Guinness book of records. The really great news--he LOVED it!!! After church, he went on and on about how much fun it was and how much he loved his teachers...
And you know what, I know God was smiling. Because once again, He came through. Sure, came through in answering a haggard mama's prayer about her son enjoying Sunday school, but even more remarkably, broke through in the first place to a frustrated, preoccupied, rushed Mama's heart. He gave wisdom and love and joy in a place where it was desperately needed--my selfish heart.
So thank You, Father. Thank You for never giving up on us. Thank You for always encouraging us as our Perfect Parent--our Abba, our Daddy. Even as I write that, I want to cry--God, my Daddy. Incredible. Thank You for slowing to our pace, but prodding us along when we need it. And thank You that Your grace is always and forever sufficient.
"May our Lord Jesus Christ Himself and God our Father, who loved us and by His grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and wold." (2Thess. 2:16-17) And He did and He does and He always will.
To God be the glory.
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