The tears welled up in my eyes as I tucked my son’s final week of homework into the bag to turn in to school and I started sobbing. Why? It was just a bunch of worksheets…

I don’t know if life changed so quickly and my heart is catching up, or if I’m relieved, or if it was actually really hard to keep this whole ship going over the last nine weeks and I can’t quite believe it all even happened.  

Regardless, I wish some parts of this would have been different. I wish I could have poured more in. I wish I had the stamina to keep all of the extra work and motivation going that we had in the first days. I wish I could have done more for this kid. I wish I could have inspired him to learn. When I look back, there were moments when we were just surviving. We did okay. The work is complete, but I feel like we are limping over the finish line, more tired and worn out than thriving.   

So as the tears roll down my face, I am reminded again to pause. To open my hands and give God all of the things. God I give You this kid, I give You his work, I give You what I wish I could have created in Him, but I know only You can. I trust You with him, his life, his emotions, his desires, his willpower. God I give Him to You. I give You all things. I lay them at the foot of the cross, and I will leave them there. 

Wishing I could have done better. Wanting to have done more. Moment by moment I do think we gave it our all, but this morning, it doesn’t feel like enough. In the quiet, I am reminded I was never made to be enough. I was made to be His. 

So we will turn in the work, and I’ll surrender my wishes and hopes. I’ll plead with my God to fill the gaps and make a way and we will proceed.  

I see God’s generosity as my son calls me upstairs. He cues up a song really loud. I’m not sure what it is at first, and then the chorus, “School’s out for summer!” I see God’s kindness. I see that our kids didn’t experience this series of weeks the same way that we did, and they will be okay. God will take care of their hearts and even as I watch my son celebrate, I see that He already is.