Does Heaven Have A Yellow Bus?

The first day of another year of school.  Momma's all over the world experience that bittersweet emotion as they send their children off to the world of learning.  My own stomach was a pit of nervous and excited tension as I packed lunches and book bags and, one by one, sent my children off.

Moise was smiling and happy as we wheeled him to the bus.  My heart tugged a little as my over active mind imagined his confusion when he finds that school is not the same beloved halls he knows.  There will be no familiar faces, or secretaries who hand him candy when he delivers the lunch money.  His Aunt Gail won't be there to see him in the cafeteria at lunch time and all the kids at the new school won't know to give him "knuckles."  But I'm trusting in the knowledge that God has this under control, that he knows Miose's needs better than I do.  I'm going back to the calm, peaceful assurance that we felt when we made the decision to transfer him to a different school.

Kruz exuded sweetness as he marched out to the bus in his walker, sporting  new duds and Spider Man on his back.  His world is expanding on this first day of school.  He's gaining friends and teachers, new toys and exciting adventures.  He'll learn from and teach those with whom he comes in contact.  Before he even begins, I know that he'll spread his infectious joy to all.

His bus ride entertainment is covered by the strap he found the minute he got on the bus.  

I felt my chest tighten as the bright yellow bus pulled away with two of my boy's in it. Tears clogged my throat and pain knifed through me.  As I tried, unsuccessfully, to keep all of the emotion in check, I had to be honest with myself.  The pain that I felt was not about Moise going to a new school or being separated from Kruz.  It was about Laynee.

Laynee desperately wanted to ride the school bus.  Every morning, as our other five left for school, Laynee would dissolve into tears over being left behind by her siblings.  She pointed and reached and begged to get on the school bus.  Our beloved bus driver, Danny, would sometimes intercept her as she made a mad dash for it.  And every day, as I carried her back in the house, I would wipe her tears and promise her "pretty soon. You're not quite big enough, but pretty soon you can ride the yellow bus." Pretty soon was just a couple months away.  It was almost in our reach, but it never came.  I couldn't keep my promise.  Laynee never got to ride the yellow bus.

The deep pain that I felt this morning was a fresh wave of grief that collided and tangled with bittersweet emotion of back to school.  In the early hours of this crisp August morning, Kruz lived out Laynee's dream, the promise that I was never able to deliver to her. Even though I know that heaven is better than I can comprehend, I want her here today, waving at me from her school bus.  But since she's not, I hope there's a yellow bus in heaven.

God is good, all the time.