Answered Prayer: Clarity and Wobbly C's

For the past couple of weeks I have been questioning and deliberating -- both in private and public spheres -- about my dilemma regarding Aidan's schooling. On my daily "prayer rides" (I will henceforth refer to these 6-mile prayers in the solitude of my car as "prayer rides" -- catchy!) I have been meeting God in "our room," talking and crying and asking and -- yes, on occasion -- pleading with Him for direction. I have not seen a skywriter zip across the vast blue expanse with its smoke miraculously scrawling me an answer (how cool would that be?!); I have not heard a voice other than my own echoing throughout the interior of my car. Frankly, I haven't heard/seen/felt much of anything as far as an answer or clue or discernment goes. That's OK -- I mean, it just "is what it is." But then ... something happened.

It was subtle -- oh, so subtle as it so very often is. There wasn't any one particular circumstance, any one special episode that caused me to sit up and say "Aha! That's it! This confirms it!" No, it was just simple, subtle, persistent ... and as of yesterday morning, so very clear. It was downright cool.

The "Christian school vs. public school" is still on the table -- that has not cleared itself up, nor will it for quite a while. As my friend Jen suggested, I need to "just sit with the possibilities, live with the questions, and the answers will emerge!" Yes, I just have to wait on that one ...

What I'm writing about today -- this subtle clarity that I finally understood -- involves the other layer of this dilemma: kindergarten vs. first grade. While I had some stirrings of my own, a part of me feeling that kindergarten overrules first grade, those "instincts" were practically undetectable. Even though I thought the decision had already been signed and sealed, it wasn't quite delivered. I was unsure of myself, and the more I tossed the ideas around in my head, I was even more uncertain than before. As his teacher said, in so many respects Aidan is ready for first grade, but ... but ...

I prayed. I needed reassurance, I needed "something" to give me peace about the decision, "something" to wash away the lingering doubts. And in that oh, so subtle way, I couldn't help but smile as I felt God answered my prayer, in those great unexpected, "back door" kind of God-ways.

Ever since this big decision has been on my radar -- and especially over the past week -- I have been noticing some things about Aidan, things that I probably would have overlooked at any other time. I have noticed -- again, especially over this past week or possibly two -- that his behavior seems a little "off." He's been particularly whiny, griping over little things that previously would have gone undetected. His answers to simple daily questions such as "Would you like milk?" or "What would you like for your fruit?" have turned into arguments. His responses to predictable daily occurrences such as "Time for lunch!" or "Please put your pajamas away" have turned into battles. His patience is more thin than usual; his hugs are less. Sharing is a near impossibility; clean up is more than a chore.

And on another front (and this might sound a bit strange), his writing has become shaky. His clear bold letters have lately been wobbly and hesitant. Even yesterday morning -- an event which became the clincher for me -- Aidan sat at the kitchen table doing his Letter C homework, a letter that he had easily mastered ages ago. And yet looking at his paper, and watching him struggle, with his sweet forehead resting in his frustrated hand, one would think this was his first trial run, his C's looking like drunken snakes slithering along the dotted lines. This was new, both for myself and for him.

Perhaps none of this seems like a big deal. Perhaps it all seems like a coincidence. He's having an off day. He's tired or distracted. So what if his C's are crooked. And yet ... I can't help but smile. What did I see in all of this? Exactly what I've been praying for -- clarity, for my eyes to be opened. Aidan's a smart kid, no doubt about it. But he's still a little kid. Sure, he's intelligent; yes, he shows an uncanny maturity and insight from time to time. But he's a little boy. He's got some growing up to do, in his own time, at his own speed.

Thank you, Lord, for this week -- for the wobbly C's, for the bad moods, for showing me that my little boy is still a little boy. Thank you for the peace. I needed that.

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A HUGE disclaimer: Is it easy living with this kind of answered prayer?
The answer: A resounding NO!
(Don't get me started on how my day is going ... Peace? Well, yes, in one aspect, but elsewhere? Forget it!)