The August Women of Worship newsletter was provided by a very special guest writer. Shannon Wexelberg is a gifted songwriter and musician and as you will see, she is also a talented writer as well. I asked Shannon’s permission to use her words so I could briefly introduce you to one of the women who will be leading us through the Quiet Places Worship Retreat. Shannon is not a performer. She is a worshiper anointed with the gift of leading those within earshot to the feet of Jesus. Shannon is also one of the most ‘real’ women I know, not afraid to share of her personal struggles as she seeks the Lord. I pray that Shannon’s words speak to you…

Kindergarten day 1...

Just hours ago my husband and I took our son Christian to his first day of kindergarten. Strangely, these last few weeks leading up to this day I haven't had a lot of wrestling or emotion about it. And believe me, if there was unearthed emotion to be found, I would've dug it up. I have a propensity for that. All in all, I just felt very proud of him and like he is very much ready for this next big step! Christian has been in pre-school the last couple years, so I had already worked through the pangs of leaving my son in the care of another trusted soul. So, I expected kindergarten day one to go off without a hitch. For him. And for me.

Well, as we walked up to the kindergarten playground - the special fenced off one for the youngest and newest members of the school - I felt an ache in my gut. I saw a little girl clinging to her Mama, clearly not very excited about this first day. But Christian turned to me and said, "Mom, do you want to swing with me?" And I said..."yes, I do..I do want to swing with you." And we took off for the fenced in, kindergarten swings, Daddy looking on. We swung for a while and I felt a little lump in my throat. But we hopped off and I was fine.

Suddenly, Christian's teacher came out to the playground at the front of the sidewalk with a sign that said "Ms. Brown," and the children were to line up in single file behind her and her happy, yellow sign. Christian lined right up with his backpack and his fellow adventurers. Wait...is that a tear I feel trying to surface upon my eyeball? Blink...blink....hey, I have a thought! Now would be a good time for a picture. Break out the camera. Click. Meltdown averted.

They let the parents go into the classroom for a special storytime to kick the day off, and so Mark and I decided to go in, though Christian seemed perfectly content to march in single file without us. Christian found his hook, hung up his backpack, located his name tag on his table and went to sit on the rug for story-time. Mark and I leaned against the back counter of the room and watched and listened along with the other parents. And then, with no warning at all, tears that could not be dammed began to flow, as if story time had magical powers to lure the fluid from my eyes. Smiling, blurry-eyed, each time Christian would look back at us, I brushed away the tears in between glances. I reached for the camera again. Seems this method has helped me in the past to stay distracted and capture a moment rather than feel it.

And as I sat there, I remembered my first day of kindergarten. It was not a pretty situation at all. I had been to preschool and done just fine. But when Kindergarten Day 1 hit, my little life fell apart. I was terrified. I was undone. I became a total wreck. I screamed with horror as I saw the big yellow monster that was the school bus approach our stop. I simply would not get on. So my Mom drove me to school and I yelled in anguish as she tried to bring me to the classroom. I have visions of Mrs. Beam, the principal, helping my Mom drag me down the hall to her office. The problem was, this did not only occur on kindergarten day 1...this occurred on kindergarten day 2, day 3, day 4, day 5...and, well, you get the picture. It was enough days that the school recommended I go to a child psychologist to figure out what was wrong with "this child." So I looked at ink blots and spots and dots and their determination in the end, which was no help to me or my parents, was that I was "gifted." Excuse me? Gifted with what? A propensity for terror and panic? Well, perhaps. So, they sent me on my way. And eventually, I went into the classroom and did OK. I went on to win the spelling bee that year. (insert applause here) I ran track and field and got a few ribbons. (hooray!) But most amazing of all, I conquered my fears and survived.

I still feel like that kindergartener some days. Some weeks. OK...some months. The only difference is that I am quite a bit older now, quite a bit bigger, rarely carry a lunch box, and have many trusty experiences under my belt that let me know that life is going to be OK. It may not feel OK right now. My heart might be about to explode in pieces. But in the end I have to remember that Jesus said..."In this world you will have trouble, but fear not. I have overcome the world."

So, as I sit here waiting to pick Christian up from Kindergarten Day 1, I am very thankful that his first day was very unlike mine. And I also realize that some day it won't be "Mommy, will you come swing with me?" It will be..."Mommy, can I take the car tonight?" Or much later - though I know it will go by so quickly - "Mom, will you dance with me?" as Christian gets ready to walk into a life with a beautiful woman he will call his wife. And I will try not to panic or freak out or bawl like a baby. And you will most likely see me grabbing for my camera...

Click.