Back to school

A rainy morning as I write the blog I intended to write last night, my thoughts full of seven grandchildren going back to school this week. I’m particularly celebrating Miss Morgan Helene of Tomball, who turned into a teenager yesterday—that all-important thirteenth birthday—and starts eighth grade today. Her brother, Kegan, had a soccer tournament which he said he wanted to win for her birthday—and he did! Thirteen is such a wonderful age—sometimes so grown up but, thank goodness, still many times a kid. Morgan requested flannel one-piece pjs for her birthday, thinking ahead to how cozy they’ll be on their annual ski vacation. If she can think that in August, more power to her!

Joining Morgan and Kegan in the back-to-school rush are two boys in Austin, a high schooler in Frisco and her big sister, a university student in Colorado. And finally my local homeboy, Jacob who starts seventh grade and, over my loud protests, will play tackle football. Perhaps that is why I dreamt I went to get him at some kind of athletic practice (and my dog—don’t know how the dog got in there) and found him in a bloody bandage. Then he sort of disappeared from my dream as it turned out I had brought home the wrong dog—one with straight fur on its ears and not Sophie’s doodle curls. I think that came from marveling at Sophie’s ears yesterday.

I hope the school year for all of them is off to a better start than my dream would suggest. They are all wonderful children (what else?) and I wish them the many blessings school can bring—knowledge, friendship, lessons in life.

Went to church yesterday via the computer which I do more often than I like. I have become a believer in sitting in the front row of church. My family were always back-of-the-church people, but Christian has converted me to sitting right up front, where I can be sure both God and the preacher see me. Nonetheless, yesterday I was confined to signing my name on the roster of those who attended remotely.

The sermon, part of a series based on Ephesians, was “Words Matter,” and at one point the minister said no one in his family ever, not ever uses the word “hate”—they don’t hate people, they don’t hate broccoli—you get the idea. I remember a conversation with a grandson along the similar lines. He, a young Sophist, suggested it was a bit weak to say, “I dislike a tight collar.” I wish I had been firmer about the evils of hate—the ugly, nasty, destructive feelings the mere use of the word unleashes. A good lesson with which to start the school year.

May the school year be blessed for you and all the students you care about.