How to Begin

Beginnings have a way of stealing our breath. The unknown and the long road ahead can be exhilarating and overwhelming all at the same time. And you can forget everything you thought you knew. So as the page turns on a new school year here for us, I am helping to pack lunches, filling out forms, reminding the little guy to tie his shoes and trying hard to remember how to begin this ride into a new year.

For more than a dozen years, I have been sending boys off to school; so you’d think I’d have it down. But every year feels different. And the only thing I know for sure is that it’s okay not to know how it’s going to go. Beginnings are made for not knowing.

So I hurry them along and find myself praying for the good things I want to come out of their years. As if by saying the words, I can predetermine the future and fend off any bad things headed their way. But here’s the thing. The prayers I whisper for goodness over each child, for work well done and friends well made are often doing battle with the “what if” questions blaring their way into my mind. What if this all goes wrong?

And experience has taught me this truth. At some point this year, it will all go wrong. The grade will be bad, the work forgotten, the harsh word said, the door slammed, the privileges lost, the pathway unclear. What looks shiny and new today will at some point be complicated and broken. And it will not all seem well. Trust me. I have three boys. I’m an expert at broken things.

So, here at this wide-open beginning, I am learning to admit I cannot control the outcome. It quiets my soul as I remember that I can’t wrangle these new days into submission. I can’t insist on perfect and have it all lined up nice and neat so that everyone can survey my success. None of this is mine in the first place. These kids, this year, their friends and teachers and work. None of it is mine. It is God’s. Every last shoelace and pencil of it.  Every moment of this beginning, this middle and this end belong to the Creator of the Universe. And he loves it all.

I hear him whisper the words of this ancient text over us; over this beginning.

“I (the Lord) have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you in within loving kindness. I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel. Again you will take up your tambourines and go out and dance with the joyful” (Jeremiah 31:3-4).

So here we go; the beginning of this story. We turn the page wondering what if and holding tight to hope for good things to come. But before the spin of it all gets to us, maybe we need to be reminded of this one simple thing. Maybe we need to know what it is God speaks over us as we begin.

It’s the same thing we tell our embarrassed kids as they try to walk cooly into their new places. We tell them whether they have been perfect angels or terrible teenagers; whether they have combed hair or cowlicks sticking out everywhere; whether they have said kind words or shoved their brother. We yell it, we whisper it, we stick notes in their lunchboxes because we want to make sure they know that we mean every word of it. Well, so does God. Hear him say it to us and to those kids we packed off on busses this morning.

I. Love. You.

If today holds unknowns, remember that you are not alone. If today is overwhelming, be overwhelmed by how you are loved. If today makes your knees shake or your throat close up or leaves you feeling a little lost, remember who always comes to find you. If today is a first, trust that it won’t always feel like this. Beginnings can be hard. But you are so loved. And I am with you always, even to the ends of the earth.

So go on, get started. You’ve got this.