my dears

drip-drops threatened to fall this morning outside the panes of room 327.

inside was a bustle of nine-and-ten-year-old energy, begging for details that would accompany the strike of eleven. up they came, silent as a rippling stream, which of course, still contains bubbles here and there. the thought struck me today how much they are handling on their own, as compared to early weeks, and though their own precious mommas were elsewhere at the moment, i suppose the maternal tendencies in my heart groaned a little at seeing how they've "grow up" within four swift months. soon they will be closer to fifth grade than third, but i'll save those thoughts for another time.

miss olewiler, do you think...? miss olewiler, why does...? should i...miss o?

at times the weight of my role is great, and i suppose i could tally up hours and hours [from 3pm-8am] during which their little souls come to my thoughts. but as much as i kick off the heels at the end of the day and plop onto a sofa, too exhausted to make dinner, i also treasure the thousands of times i hear my name. not, mind you, because i have a wonderful name, nor because i'm always eager to solve little problems, but because of the love and trust that comes with their questions. how i love those 19 laughs - all unique - and the serious faces of attentiveness when their eyes comprehend that the Bible isn't joking.

oh that they would go to Jesus even more than their teacher! to shower Him with sweet words, their concerns about friendships, their joys over simple pleasures. that His name would be the one they thank for a field trip or a surprise ice cream snack or a hundred-percent-test. that they would seek His wisdom during intense kickball games and investigate God's word on their own, setting patterns now.

and that i would trust Him with that, not taking the reigns.
let me rest in Your peace, sweet Savior. let me be found your good and faithful servant.


H