Happy new (school) year

My youngest granddaughter, Alycia, started kindergarten this week. She is not impressed. Apparently, you're not allowed to bring your little brother to kindergarten. She is inconsolable.

That is sure to change. She isn't the first kindergartner to react to the first day, or even the first week of school, with tears. My sister's eldest fought her tooth and nail, almost quite literally, for weeks when he first started school. About the time she thought she couldn't handle another morning of whimpering tears, he got over it. And yes, this is the same nephew who -- and I do not exaggerate -- used his whimpering tears for more than 300 miles because he didn't get to ride shotgun when Debi and I were returning home to Denver from McAllen, Texas. This kid had sticktuitiveness down to a science. Alycia, though stubborn, is nowhere near his level of stubborn. The Lord often referred to Israel as a stiff-necked people. I think Dano John would have qualified.

Kindergarten is fun. Or so they tell me. I didn't get to go. I was thrust directly into the first grade at the oh-so-tender age of 6, almost 7. Of course, my sister Debi had already been in school for two entire years, and whatever Debi did, I wanted to do. Also, Debi delighted in playing teacher every day after school, so I had already mastered many of the skills needed to succeed in first grade. That was a great year. From second grade on, however, I was on my own, and mastery eluded me from that time forward.

Our own children rode the school bus, with every other kid in the neighborhood they had grown up in, so the first day of school simply meant a short walk to the corner where we waited with other kids and mothers for the bus to arrive. For them, school was no big deal, they already knew half the student body. I was the one standing there, waving good-bye, wondering what to do in an empty house. They were off to discover and conquer whatever worlds their teachers had prepared for them.

Children all over McCook know what I'm talking about. The school doors opened wide this morning and all of those "lazy, hazy crazy days of summer," came to a screeching halt. Stiff blue jeans, tight shoes and socks that actually stay up were donned, hair was slicked down, and backpacks, loaded no doubt with the latest and greatest school supplies, were slipped on as another school year began. Since there seems to be some confusion about prayer in schools, I'll say it here, "May the Lord bless them and keep them safe, and inspire in them a love for learning that will one day inspire them to learn all they can about him."

As a former school district employee I know full well the anticipation, the hope, and the hours of preparation contributed by all district employees for that first day back. A new school year is kith and kin to the New Year holiday in mid-winter. A fresh start. Clean slates. Notebooks striking in purity because no pages have been torn out and the covers are free from doodling. The first day of school, for students and staff alike, is a day that is filled with hopeful expectation.

There are, after all, new worlds to conquer. And as each one is conquered, another presents itself. Don't burden the children with this truth just yet, but for all of our lives, for all of their lives, there is yet much to be learned. In fact, even in eternity, we'll still have miles to go before we learn half of all that can be known.

The first day of school, especially the first day of kindergarten, is akin to the first day of eternity. We don't know what to expect. We've never been there before. We don't know who all will be there. We don't know what we'll do. We don't know where we'll go. And much like a kindergartner, who hasn't lived quite long enough to trust that they'll go back home at the end of the day, we haven't quite lived long enough to have learned to trust that home is where we're going.

Oh, we've heard about the pearly gates, we know that some have gone before us and we've heard and sung the songs, but that first day? Trepidation is too small a word.

In the seemingly endless days of summer, custodians, who know how quickly time will fly, wield their mops and rags, cleansers and waxers. The hallways gleam. The desks sparkle. The library books are all neatly aligned with the edges of bookshelves and the smell of new paper permeates the air.

Teachers set their lesson plans down in ink, preparing grade books and visual aids for that first day. The lunch lady lays in her supplies and peruses the menus, offering tried and true favorites and slipping in a little something new each year.

Administrators check every t and every i in the student handbook, looking for any that aren't crossed or dotted.

And in the short weeks before school starts each year, the entire family prepares for that first day. Shoe shopping. Clothes shopping. School supplies, purchased and divvied up. First day outfits are selected with care. Baths are the order of the day. Everyone turns in early, so as to toss and turn until they can slip out from between the sheets 10 minutes before the alarm goes off, excitement quickening their thoughts.

If only we would take the same care when preparing for that first day of eternity. We know it is as inevitable as the first day of school. But, since we lack the day, the time, the place, all of which would otherwise be carefully noted on the calendar, we procrastinate, we delay, we deny.

Oh, take the time to learn, today, how to prepare for that first day. The information has been provided, it's not a deep dark secret known only by a select few. In fact, if one man can know it, all men can know it.

"I tell you, now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation." 2 Corinthians 6:2 (NIV)