This is the last week of preschool for my daughter, Lizzie. She has been at this cooperative preschool, where I have served on the Board of Directors  for three years, for the past two years. And my son, Andrew attended the school for three years before that. Needless to say, I feel like I am leaving family and heading out for the second time into the land of the public school system. And, I have found that public school is nothing like cozy Ruth Washburn Cooperative Nursery School, where yellow and orange paper lanterns hang from the ceiling when you come in, and I leave with a hug almost every time. I had to toughen up a bit when I left. And I will have to do it again. Or do i?

So, today, I dropped Lizzie off, for her second to last day of school. She began crying incessantly because she had forgotten her shorts. Her little face crinkled up as she looked at me and cried, "But, Mooommmmmm, I need my shorts. I will be hot. I need them, I need them, I need them!" And then she punched me in the arm and called me "Dumb Mommy." Thankfully, I had the awareness that this probably wasn't about the shorts. But, that didn't come right away. As I sat with her, many of us adults did many tricks to try to make her happy. The teacher went and looked all over the school for a pair of shorts. Another parent offered to take Lizzie across the street to the thrift shop to buy a pair of shorts. And then someone else said something like, Look at the birdie, to distract her. And I found myself holding my breath, praying for it to stop so I could leave. We all wanted to make it better, for different reasons. I sat with her, for many minutes, wondering what the hell I should do. I was very close to leaving quickly, buying shorts and bringing them back. Even if that would make me late for my 9:15 appointment. But something in my gut said, for God's sake Jenny, she is just crying. Let her be.

I found myself praying to God for help. And then, I found myself picking Lizzie up and taking her into a room to hold her. And I did for a while. Breathing and learning to be with sadness. Our children are such teachers for us. They remind us not to forget that we are emotional human beings. That life includes feeling. Sometimes we can get so heady; either through busyness, or intellectualizing our faith, our lives. It is exhausting to hold the emotions at bay. So, I took a few moments to be with my daughter while she felt sad. And, it gave me a chance to feel sad too. When I knew it was time to leave, I asked for help.  I went into the director's office and held Lizzie for a while there. Her little tear stained face rested on the skin of my chest. Her cries turned into deep sighs. And then, I said I needed to leave. The director offered to take her on her lap, and Lizzie climbed right into her loving arms and stayed there, until she was ready to reenter her classroom. I breathed, and thanked Sarah, and left.

It is good to know we have each other; that other people in my community can love and hold my child and let her be. And I am grateful, that after a bunch of running around, I was able to see that she just needed some arms to hold her. She's having a hard time too. It may have been the shorts. It was a hot day today after all. Or, it could have been something deeper. Like leaving her little community she has been a part of for two years. She might be sad too. Can we let our children be with what they are feeling? Or better yet, can we let ourselves be with our emotions? The more we can stay present to our emotional lives, the more we can be present to those of our children. Sadness is a tough one for me. It requires surrender, vulnerability and softening. Those have always been scary for me. But my daughter Lizzie is teaching me how to do it. She is teaching me how to cry when I am sad.