Yesterday was a big day. I wouldn’t admit it to myself, but I was a wee bit anxious about how it would go. Instead of admitting it or giving in to the tears, I lost myself in a flurry of activity to get everyone out the door.
Yesterday was Harry’s first day of preschool.
No filter. Just a Nebraska sunrise I captured yesterday in my jammies from the driveway. God knew I needed a little something that would tell me, “Stop worrying, honey. I’ve got this.”
The first day of preschool is a big milestone for any child, but the fact that it was Harry’s first day of preschool made it even more monumental.
In order to understand why yesterday was so big, you need to know Harry’s back story.
Almost four years ago on All Souls Day, we found out that I was miscarrying our 3rd baby. We named her Thérèse. A few weeks later, God entrusted us with another precious baby. I had a healthy pregnancy and delivered a baby boy nine months later.
Harold Fulton Boucher
Sweet little Harry helped to heal our family after losing Thérèse, but he will never replace her. I mean that in the best possible way. We love Thérèse, and I pray for her intercession often, but I don’t think of Harry as her replacement. Thérèse is our precious saint in heaven, and she’s all the motivation we need to get the rest of our family there someday. In just 3 years, Harry has shown me over and over again that he is exactly the soul God intended for our family.
Harry has always done things in his own way on his unique time table. For example, instead of crawling, he did the worm.
Harry is the child we never would have met if my pregnancy with Thérèse had gone according to our plans. All of our children’s milestones are special, but Harry’s milestones seem distinct. After all, Harry’s life itself was sheer gift.
Fast forward a couple of years.
Harry just turned three last week, and he has less than 15 words that he will say spontaneously without prompting. He has been receiving help with his speech delay through the Lincoln Public Schools special education program. A wonderful speech pathologist came out to our home twice a month this past year to work with us on Harry’s speech.
Last spring before Dorothy was born, I had visions of how our fall would be. It would be quieter with just Harry and our new baby at home while Jane and Walt were off at school. We’d have play dates, go to the gym, have fun outings, and Harry was enrolled at a nearby Christian preschool once a week.
As it turned out, that Christian preschool cut the program due to budget constraints. In fact, the preschool called us the day we came home with baby Dorothy from the hospital. After that phone call, we thought were out of options. All of the mother’s day out programs had waiting lists, and Harry wasn’t eligible for the parish or other preschool programs because of his August birthday.
So, it wasn’t part of my plan to send Harry off to preschool this year. That’s why his first day of preschool milestone was such a big deal. It was another one of those moments that never would have happened according to my master plan. You see, there’s this thing about Harry. I’m convinced God gave Harry to our family to teach me this lesson over and over again: our lives are not about our plans; our lives are about surrendering to God’s plan.
At our May meeting with the speech pathologist, we talked about our plans for the summer and fall. I mentioned that the preschool where Harry was enrolled had closed and that he would be staying at home with me. Then the speech pathologist and I had a little good news/bad news pow wow.
The bad news: Harry’s in-home services with Lincoln Public Schools would be ending in a few months when he turned three in August.
The good news: At the conclusion of his in-home services, he would become eligible for the Lincoln Public School preschool program as a special education student.
I was initially excited and asked her to describe the program, envisioning a few hours a week. When she described the program, and I think I had to pick my jaw up off of the floor.
5 days a week.
3 and a half hours.
Breakfast, snack, and lunch are served.
Children can be bussed to and from school.
Woah, woah, woah! Are you crazy, lady?! He will have just turned THREE!
It sounded like too much and too fast. I told her I’d think about it but had already ruled it out in my mind. After all, my plan had been to send him to 1-day preschool for a few hours. 5 days?! 2 meals?! A bus?! Before leaving, our speech pathologist gave me a gentle nudge to at least tour the preschool. I promised her I’d think about it.
I called Philip at work to check in. As a passing comment, I mentioned the preschool tour idea and described the program. When Philip agreed that it was too much, I thought that was the end of the discussion. For whatever reason, both of us kept revisiting the idea. By the next day, we had set up a tour.
On the tour, we met the classroom teacher, a para, and a speech pathologist who would be meeting with Harry. The classroom was amazing, and it immediately captivated Harry’s attention. The staff described regular meetings to continue to work on Harry’s IEP (his individualized education plan). I knew about all of this as a possibility as a former classroom teacher, but let me tell you, it’s a totally different ball game when you realize all of these services are available for YOUR child!
We ended up enrolling Harry for the fall. We agreed that Harry has always done things differently and that this might be exactly the boost that he needs to get him talking. After all, he’ll still get to be home with me in the afternoons and have plenty of bonding time with the rest of our family in the evenings. Going through my struggles with postpartum depression after Harry was born taught me an important lesson: there will be times with this parenting stuff that I need to reach out and ask for help in filling the gaps. 5-day preschool will be able to do exactly that for Harry, and I’m so excited for him!
Begrudgingly, I had to admit to God yet again that I was wrong. My plan was good, but it wasn’t the best. Have you ever seen this picture before?
I’m the little girl holding my plans in my hands while He has something bigger in mind.
That little girl holding the small teddy bear is me. I never want to give up my plan. I think I’ve got it all figured out and hold on to it white-knuckled until I resign myself to saying, “Okay, fine. Whatcha got behind Your back?”
His plan is always better than mine. Always.
Just look at that smile!
Harry’s life has been full of opportunities to practice letting go of my plans.
God allowed us to lose Thérèse. Losing Thérèse allowed us to gain Harry.
He allowed me to have postpartum depression. That postpartum depression taught me to lean more on others. It taught me what real friendship is all about. It strengthened our marriage. It opened my eyes to the fragility of life. It taught me that what’s working for other families might not be what’s best for us.
He allowed Harry to have a speech delay. That speech delay taught and continues to teach me all kinds of parenting skills I otherwise would never have been forced to cultivate.
That Harry. So many surprises in these 3 years. Who knows what else is in store for that boy! All I know is this:
- I’m not in control.
- My plans are (usually) good.
- Buuuuuuuuuuut it’s always a better idea to ask God what His plans are
- His plan gives me the life I need
