I love these brisk fall mornings. There is just something about
that crisp, sweet morning air that leaves me feeling nostalgic,
energized and ambitious. This truly is my favorite season.
I love these brisk fall mornings. There is just something about that crisp, sweet morning air that leaves me feeling nostalgic, energized and ambitious. This truly is my favorite season. I sit here looking out the window, watching my children (and the dog) waiting for the school bus at the end of our driveway.
The girls are listening to their ipods and talking while my son unenthusiastically shuffles his feet in the loose gravel, kicking up small puffs of dust. He stoops to pet the dog and I wonder if he thinks about her dedication to wait with them each morning. She’s never missed a single day and even with the front gate open, she sets the example and never crosses the threshold. Rain or shine, she sits right there at the gate post and watches her kids go to school each day.
I remember exactly how it feels to wait for the bus. The passing cars stir up a chilling wind as they cruise by and they leave a faint smell of exhaust trailing behind. My little brother and I sacrificed many hours at the end of our driveway waiting for our school bus.
We played games making “cotton candy” on sticks by winding spider webs around them from the bushes nearby. We practiced our throwing techniques by tossing pebbles as high as we could to see if it would make it over the telephone wire, and we rated them as they landed in the empty hayfield across the street. This was difficult because neither of us dared to pass the imaginary line between two old fence posts that marked our boundary.
I have implemented that same safety system with my own children. The gate posts are not to be passed until the bus comes, and they honor that rule just as I did so long ago.
It seemed almost too easy to enforce this rule. The kids are more than willing to abide by it and it makes me wonder what other lines I’ve drawn that they won’t cross. Will they smoke cigarettes? Use drugs or alcohol? In our house we insist on rules of moral value.
We don’t say “I hate you,” we don’t hit, we don’t threaten, we don’t call names, we don’t tell lies and we don’t “borrow” things from each other without asking. We rarely need to remind anyone of these expectations. This world is so full of dangerous situations I sometimes wonder if they can remember all that they need to know. And if they remember our rules, will they apply them? When it comes to the big decisions, I hear myself giving reminders frequently. Do they see the example we set as their parents?
Even though they only had to be told once not to cross the line at the end of the driveway, I still find myself asking a lot of questions about the parts of their lives that I don’t get to watch from my window. “How was school today?” I ask. “What was the best thing that happened to you today?”
Balancing being “nosey” and having faith is awkward. In the end and with a deep sigh, I can only hope that we’ve placed solid gate posts, set deep in concrete and clearly drawn boundaries that will stay with them forever. When the kids grow up, I’ll be sitting here with my old German Shepherd, and secretly wishing that she was still with them each morning assuming her faithful watch.
