Back to School and Able to Breathe

Today is the big day, everyone! I’m going back to school! My inner nerd (oh, who am I kidding, it’s an outer nerd) did a jujitsu move on Scaredy-Cat Girl, and I’m getting excited about being back in a classroom. I’m going to be hablo-ing español six hours a day for the next three months. I’ll do my best to keep writing this blog in English, ha ha.

Additionally, Ladybug starts school today. We bought her some back-to-school clothes when we bought clothes for Blossom and Einstein, so she’s been itching to get into these clothes for two months now. I let her wear some of them before now, but I made sure to set aside one outfit to be brand-new on her first day of school. I remember how fresh each new year felt when I showed up in new clothes. She’s four, so I doubt she’ll even remember this first day when she gets older; still, I will take pictures of her in her new outfit as she walks into her first classroom. I hope she develops a lifelong love for learning there.

The last time I went to school, of course, I didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s whereabouts throughout the day. No one else counted on me for breakfast, for a ride anywhere, or for clean clothes to wear to school. Not to mention a sack lunch or a hot dinner. Getting the logistics in place will undoubtedly take some reshuffling, and we’ll probably have some rough moments as we adjust to this new stage in which everyone has a scheduled place to be every day. And knowing this will not stop me from crying when the rough moments occur.

This weekend, our associate rector gave a wonderful talk about the Holy Spirit being for everyone. Everyone, without regard to gender, race, economic status. He laughed in delight, deep from within himself, as he reminded us of the universality of God’s gift.

He never mentioned language school, but in his talk, I heard peace. I heard hope. I heard again the story of people speaking in tongues as the Holy Spirit settled upon them, and observers making fun of them, saying they must be drunk. At that point, I actually felt apprehension loosen its hold on my lungs. Since last Tuesday, every time I thought about this big change, I tried to draw a deep breath, only to find that I felt metal bands holding my lungs half-closed. As I heard the words of Peter explaining that the Holy Spirit, not wine, had brought about the new languages, I breathed easy.

What else will I rediscover, or discover for the first time? There’s no telling. But I’ll take y’all along as I go.

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