Today is the first day of school here in South Carolina. Our Tazmanian Princess is less tazmanian and more princess than when I was writing last. She's headed into 5th grade today. She's complex, but not complicated. She's so grown up, but still a little girl. She loves having her hair and makeup done, but she won't suffer for fashion. If it itches, it's out. She's fearless on a bike or a tube, but has to be reminded of her bravery when meeting new people.
That's why I've had people praying for her for months. We are in a new city, and her fourth school in her 10 short years. I knew this move would be her hardest (but Lord willing, our last). Here in our new city, 5th and 6th grade are in an intermediate school. It's like prep for middle school. She'll have three different teachers throughout the day and rotate on a schedule different from her homeroom classmates. I've been the new kid in a small town where everyone already seemed to know each other going into middle school. It may have been 100 years ago, but I still remember the jumble of fear and anxiety. So I had people pray.
A few weeks ago, my outlook for our Ry was very bright. We had just finished a week of gymnastics camp where Rylee came home claiming she had met a BF. (I think she may have been leery about adding the last F as she's had a handful of BFF's that haven't lasted the Forever she promised because her parents are gypsies.) I knew it was for real because Ry had gotten her actual name (instead of a made up one like "Bun Bun" because she wasn't brave enough to have a conversation with the person but really enjoyed playing with them sans words.) AND! She brought home her phone number! Huzzah!
I texted the mother and asked if new BF was going to the Back to School Bash for 5th graders. It was a drop off situation and so far, BF was the only face Ry would recognize. Sadly, no. BF would not be going. I was confident this was must attend event prior to the start of school, so off we went anyway. And we went with great attitudes because BF's mom invited Ry to BF's little sister's birthday party. It would be all about the sister, so Ry would be the only friend BF's age to paly with. WIN!
As we pulled up to school the night of the Bash, I watched as groups of children clustered together. Little girls in groups of 3 and 4 piled into the gym. Ry's grip on my hand was sweaty and tight and there was no masking that both of us wanted to turn around and run back to the van. But neither of us wanted to let the other one down, so we walked in. I tried staying close, but she was whisked away and I couldn't get to her. The 5th grade class has close to 400 students (the entire size of her last school) and suddenly I was pushed to the parent line being told about pick up.
I got my chin to stop quivering long enough to tell a volunteer that the kid in blue is new and doesn't know anyone and could she make sure she wasn't alone. I was given on over confident reassurance that she'd be fine. But my whole heart was crushed and I cursed myself for not finding a way to stay.
I did the only thing I could do next, and that was to pray. "Lord, don't let her be alone. Be by her side. Help her be brave. Bring her a friend." Then I called my mom and cried.
To Be Continued.....
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