Black Hawk Down

They call them helicopter parents because they hover. Recently the most controlling, hovering, and over-involved parents have been labeled "Black Hawk." You know the type. You may be one. Believe me, I am not casting judgment. You know I am way-too-honest.

I guess I'm here to ask the question - is it so bad to be considered a black hawk? Able to perform a variety of missions, a tactical transport that serves in conflict? If you are a Black Hawk, you don't back down. If you are a Black Hawk, you never retreat from your mission. If you are a Black Hawk, you ALWAYS follow through.

Okay, I get it. If we're talking about helicopters - the actual flying machine - then yes, you want a Black Hawk. If we're talking about parents - especially if you're a teacher - you do NOT want a Black Hawk.

I admit to being hyper-aware, overly sensitive and ridiculously concerned over every choice I make for my child. Chalk it up to a lot of things, among which includes adoption, blended families, the sheer amount of changes and circumstances that have been presented in his young little life. None of which provide me with a decent excuse. But it does lead me to the all-important and hugely drastic life change we're about to face. Kindergarten. (Yes, I said we.)

Registration was yesterday. Orientation is Monday and his very first full day of Kindergarten is Tuesday. Admittedly, I'm a mess. M-E-S-S! Someone asked me last night why this is so difficult considering I've been a working mom since the day he was placed in my arms. Not to mention the fact that he was already in a full-day pre-k program all last year. So what exactly IS the problem?!

A new school. A new system. A new process. LOTS of changes. We don't know anyone. We don't know how things work. We don't yet have friends. We don't have any context for this. Yes, we. Get over it.

He was nervous too, begging me to hold him, hiding behind my legs as we entered the school to register. But he proved to be a lot more adaptable as he walked into the classroom, introduced himself to the teacher, and immediately started making friends as he played quietly on the carpet. I listened as he used his manners, "Excuse me," he said to a little girl who had something he wanted. I smiled with pride, knowing full well he could have yanked it right out of her hand and caused a scene. I was so grateful he didn't.

I left the school with a nervous feeling still in the pit of my stomach. I didn't get all my questions answered. I didn't get all the information I felt I needed. I still felt uncertain about many things. In not-my-finest moment I scoured the internet, google-searched, tried to Facebook stalk (unsuccesfully, I should add) and tried to "research" more. Nothing. I was going to have to remain a "mess" with all these unanswered questions and looming nervousness. I'm not ready for this!!!

It took the patience of my Knight and the encouragement of a dear friend to truly change my perspective. "Carrie, have you considered that Elijah has been placed in this school and with this teacher for God's purposes? Maybe they need him as much as he needs them."

May-day, may-day! We've been hit. Black Hawk Down!

Busted. And I'm glad for it! Why was my sight so limited? Why was I refusing to truly hand this over to the Lord? Do I not trust Him? Do I not know that this child I prayed for is the same child I must surrender ALL THE DAYS OF HIS LIFE (as I so recently wrote about)? EVEN THIS...EVEN KINDERGARTEN...I have to surrender.

You can rest assured I will join the PTA, volunteer at the school and attend field trips. But I'm determined to do my best to let God have this - my fear, anxiety, concern - and yes, even my son.

Get ready, Kindergarten. You're about to have a wonderful little boy, bright and imaginative, excited to learn and ready to meet people. He will bless you, as I know he blesses me every day, and he is more than ready. His mom, well, she's going to leave the covert missions for the trained tactile team he's been entrusted with.


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