To say I've been stressing lately about some preschool decisions for Bugaboo is probably an understatement. There are a lot of factors that keep me up at night: I'm homeschooling Bubby next year. I'm neutral on the idea of sending kids to preschool. Bugaboo has CP and some other quirky (and lately, more than quirky) behaviors. Bug has an IEP and receives services both privately and through our school system. He qualifies for free public school preschool. We really liked Bubby's church-based preschool, especially his first year's teacher. Bug's developmental issues make it interesting (challenging?) to mainstream him, even though he does get mainstreamed at our church. Bubby's preschool said they would accommodate Bugaboo.
My pro/con list, questions and concerns grew.
Additionally, The Hubs has an interesting work schedule for the next few months as he begins his job as an ER nurse. (WOOT WOOT - He passed the NCLEX! Praise the Lord. Seriously! Praise Him!) This adds yet another factor to the preschool decision. A couple of people have had to hear me go over and over the preschool angst I am having. I think about it all. the time.
But then today someone actually walked across my path - literally stopped me while I was walking Bubby to VBS - to discuss preschool for next year. In her doing that, a couple of my concerns were addressed in that brief conversation. And I have peace. I don't have a specific answer yet for what we are going to do in August, but I have peace that I will be able to make a decision without fear. I really believe today's encounter was a divine appointment because I have been so consumed with fear about some things regarding Bugaboo lately.
Fear is a horrible thing. I wrestle it daily in some shape or form. Even today, soon after I got this instant peace about preschool, I came home to discover a row of huge trees that blocked a factory from our view were being professionally chopped down. Anger that I now have to see an ugly factory instead of pine trees. Fear that it is one more thing that will make it difficult to sell our house. Fear that we will be stuck here forever. Fear, fear, fear. How can I have such peace and confidence about God taking care of something for me this morning, and then just hours later get panicked and angry about another issue?
Fear is mud. I keep stepping in it. I think I am out, and then I realize I am tracking it all over my clean floors. "Look at this mess!" the evidence seems to scream out at me. Or maybe I really hear it saying, "You are a mess!" The lifelong fear that I am messing something up, that I am the mess. Two decades later, same issues, just different situations. Oh, to finally be free of the muck. I see it as footprints all around me, I recognize what it is. Now to just have eyes to see it before I step in it again.