When I teach in the preschool I get to decide between apples or crackers for snack, and whether it's warm enough to go outside to play. I pick the songs, and name the first color for I Spy. It is not a ton of power, but it is something. Rather like when my uncle used to go to the fields by his house and yell.

"Prairie dogs, go in your holes!!!" And they did.

But this week I subbed for the assistant in another class, and all I had to do was show up. The main lady knew what to sing, and when to put on shoes to go to the playground, where the velvet capes were hung and whose turn it was to set out napkins. It was easy to follow her lead. 

While I enjoy being with the kids in my own class, this was a notch calmer still. There was comfort in knowing that I don't need to know everything.

For the last fourteen years John has been the assistant in the pastor's office. While I have never asked him, it sure seems to me that this decade has been less stressful than the two before when he was the head honcho. He shows up for work, and gives his best, but he does not carry the weight of every decision.   

This week at my spiritual growth class, which I might add is the last one for six months so I am milking it for all it's worth, the speaker was very moved by his own message. He wanted for us to understand that we are not in charge. God is. All we need to do is show up. Like an assistant. 

That evening I had the great pleasure of going out to dinner with my three older daughters. The aura of the spiritual growth class was still with me, and I felt in a deeper way than I have before that my precious girls will be taken care of. The anxiety I sometimes fall victim to dissipated, and it didn't matter if I knew every caveat of their lives. I am, it turns out, only the assistant. 

The One in charge is exponentially more qualified.