Learning To Be Brave

Last night I went to bed secure in the knowledge that I wasn't sending Owen to school today.

Not with all the rumors and threats flying around cyberspace, the increased police presence at area schools, and the Mayan end of the world prediction (which, to someone with mental illness, could be a "call to action"). I peacefully drifted off, alarm clock not set, with thoughts of a lazy day ahead, building gingerbread houses and reading Christmas books with Owen.

At 8:25 Owen wakes, looking at the clock with a puzzled expression.

My response to his unspoken question "We're going to stay home today buddy!" earns me a big hug, and  moments later, "I'm not going to school?"

"Nope!" I say cheerfully, still feeling happy with my decision.

"But Mom," as his little face starts to crinkle, "I have to go to school today. Mrs. Shrader said we have one more Friday. Everyone else will be there. And it's gym day!".

I try to convince him we'll have fun; he is equally committed to going to school. I ask him many times if he is sure he wants to go ... does he really want to go?

He does.

I pull on a sweatshirt, hand him his clothes. Quick breakfast, make lunch, brush teeth and hair. And then we are in the car heading for school. I want to turn the van around, but Owen is humming happily in the back seat, sure of where he is meant to be at 9:00 on a weekday.

I walk him in, signing in tardy and asking if I can write "Mom is crazy" as the reason. Owen is happy to be here, telling his class that I wanted us to stay home but he had to come in for gym. My friend Karen is in the classroom today helping with a special project; another new friend is class mom. They are both kind and gentle, telling me to stay if it makes me feel better.

It's warm and peaceful in the front office, where staff members Amy and June greet me and give hugs and tissues as the tears embarrassingly break free. They tell me they understand; they are moms; their hearts are within these walls too.

I peak in on the class once more. The kids are wearing red and green - a change in their usual uniforms and a treat before break. Owen is sitting next to MacKenzie on the carpet, gathered round Mrs. Shrader as they go through their morning routine.  I say a silent prayer, and walk back out the front doors to my car.

It's going to be a long day. My eyes are already puffy and a headache is creeping in. My heart is still bleeding for the lives that were lost in Connecticut a week ago today; my tears for those parents as well.

But Karen sent me the above picture as I wrote this, and I smiled to see my baby sitting with his chapel buddy, participating in a special sing-a-long and prayer service. I know he is happy to be there, and he will have stories to tell me when he gets home - especially what they did in gym.

And maybe, just maybe, today will make us both a little braver.