Today I dropped my girls off at school. Hundreds of other parents arrived within a ten minute window, and the crossing guards kept the children and cars from colliding with each other. Kids carried lunch boxes and back packs, homework and gym shorts, pencils and water bottles. Harried people under different roofs had worked swiftly and
simultaneously, eyeing their own clocks as they came down to the wire. But all in all almost everyone scuttled inside the building before the last bell.
Parenting involves more of a scheduling component than I had expected. But with piano lessons, softball practice, dance classes and birthday parties, there is a slew of chauffeuring. I notice that there were no questions regarding this skill set when I applied for the Mom job. But my success rate is probably in the
eighty fifth percentile. This is more noteworthy considering how clueless my children were about the appointments that were crammed into their growing up years. I would usher them into the car, drive across LA or Bryn Athyn, stop in front of the right building and hand them the cash for the teacher. All that was required of them was to walk through the door and pay attention.
Today at a spiritual growth class I attend the teacher said that regardless of the
appearance, we are right on time. God is our parent and is infinitely more qualified than your average soccer mom in her early thirties. He is crystal clear on the itinerary, and provides for each of us to arrive at our life's lessons at the perfect moment. Regardless of our opinions about tardiness or prematurity, in marriage or other relationships, the Scheduler is spot on.
All that is required of us is to walk through the door and pay
attention.
