a time to relearn


I’m still wondering what in all the cosmic powers has happened to the week when he asks.

“Hey Mom, have you renewed your license yet?”

He’s seen the words neoned across the board for over a week now.

“No, but I wanna get it done by Friday”, I say, answering the oldest boy.

“Today’s Friday, Mom”.

“Hmm.  Well, I guess it is.”  We’re cleaning up breakfast.

We had a late start this morning, it’s past nine o’clock, and it’s time for school.

O where O where did the time go?


I begged your dad to let me quit.   Thankfully, he wouldn’t let me.

“It’s too hard”, I said.  I wasn’t talking about the nursing classes.  I was talking about leaving home.  It was too hard to surrender my son, day after day, to the arms of another woman.  She wasn’t me.  She wasn’t his mother.  She was a wonderful woman, a family friend, a fellow Seminary wife, doing what all the rest of us wives were doing–whatever we could to fix a food bank supper, bring home the bacon, and provide for our families.

“Rebekah, you’ve only got one semester left”, he said, reasoning to my tears.  I had a semester, he had two and half more years.  It was now or never.  Finishing college with one child would be a lot more doable than finishing with two, or three, or however many God would send us.  I knew school was the right place for him, but as for me, I wasn’t so sure.  I didn’t care about chemistry or college.  I cared about people.   I wanted to be home with my little one.

I was taught in a world of confusion, a world demanding intelligence, significance, and productivity, and if it wasn’t, it sure fooled me.  Junior high and high school painted lofty pictures of professional careers and bikini models. We were told we could be anything we wanted, that our generation would hold the world at our fingertips.   Oddly, motherhood was never assumed, nor ever mentioned, as if the hidden love of rocking babies was the hush hush of the world’s best kept secret.


We finish wiping off the table and head downstairs.

Little ones gather their books in the school room.

I open to Psalm 45, and later, to the Department of Financial & Professional Regulation website.

We come away renewed.



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