Five backpacks lined up by the door. Five different shoe sizes across the floor. The oldest is struggling to find long enough shorts. The two boys trying to squeeze soccer balls and footballs into their bag. The middle one smiling ear to ear, excited to see her friends. And the baby, carrying a backpack bigger than herself. All I hear is the sound of velcro shoes opening and closing, the tiny feet running up and down the stairs, a little bit of arguing, and a lot of chaos. Five children carrying excitement, nerves, and expectations into a brand-new school year and one mom whispering prayers over all of them before their day begins.
Every child walks into a school year carrying something different –excitement, insecurity, pressure, fear, confidence, loneliness, hope, etc. As parents, we spend so much time preparing backpacks, schedules, lunchboxes, and school supplies, but the deepest preparation often happens in prayer. Before the first bell of middle school rings, before the homework folders are labeled and sent home, and before the exhaustion of color coded calendars and loaded schedules, I find myself searching for the correct words to pray.
Lord, give them confidence.
My oldest, walking into middle school for the first time. What specifically will she need? Should I pray for thick skin? That she is able to handle criticism with grace. Do I pray for confidence? Lord, please allow her to see herself in the way you see her. Do I pray for clarity? Lord, allow her to make Christ-like choices in all she does. Walk before her every step and allow her to know the path you have set for her. Middle school is a make ya or break ya situation. Some of the most challenging years of a child’s life. Lord, have I prepared her? These are the very whispers leaving my mouth as I watch Asher, my first born, walk into her next chapter.
Lord, protect their heart.
What about my second? For as long as I can remember, it has been Asher and Axton. I couldn’t count the times I have been asked if they are twins. One year a teacher would have Asher, the next Axton. It was a given, when there was one there was the other. They were a pair. How will my oldest son survive without big sis at his school? Lord, give him courage to step out and become his own, independent person. Do I pray for direction? Lord, help my son know where you are leading him. Keep him rooted in his faith. Walking into elementary school for his last first day, and the first time without his sister, these are the prayers I whisper for my oldest son.
Lord, let them feel seen.
Then there’s my middle child. Her first year of REAL school. No longer preschool centers, or phonics of Kindergarten. But stepping into her first number grade. 1st grade. How did our little bitty grow so fast? Lord, what will she need? Do I pray for resilience? Lord, help her continue to grow and develop and thrive. Does she need reassurance? Lord, help me speak life into her. Allow her to feel special and not just “the middle” of the bigs and babies. These are the whispers I speak for Arianna, the smallest of the bigs, and the oldest of the littles, trying to find her place in the world.
Lord, help them slow down.
A full year of preschool on the horizon, and an excitement for learning and friends, Ayken walks into school. What does he need? Lord, I ask for you to help him slow down. Not only because he is a 100% boy and a true test to his dad and I’s patience, but because he is no longer a baby, and it is happening way too quickly. Mold him, Lord. Let his mind be a sponge and his heart remain tender. Behind the scribbled papers, the spilled paint, and the alphabet song, my toddler is turning into a “kid,” so I whisper these prayers.
Lord, hold their hand.
Baby girl. No school this year, yet. She will go to the babysitter alone for the first time. No annoying big brother to fight with. What will she feel? Lord, be with her little heart. Allow her to feel your presence. When she feels lost or lonely, give her a hand to hold. She is the last one Lord, keep her. The last of my whispers to my sweet Adley Joe.
As a new school year comes and goes, the backpacks will wear out. The shoes will get scuffed. Papers will pile up in the car and on the counter. There will be hard mornings, forgotten assignments, and tears of things I cannot fix. But every year, before my children walk into classrooms that I cannot enter, I send something with them that won’t fit in a backpack – a prayer.
Five kids. Five first days. One faithful God.