Last year I had only a six hour summer break just hours before tumbling into my first day of school.  I thought taking three graduate classes was a ‘healthy distraction’ after my mother’s death–and it was a distraction.  I completely glazed over the tradition of going out to breakfast with my parents on my first day of school — Dad and I were both overwhelmed and exhausted.  I was completely fine with it–a year ago.

This year I wasn’t…I was yearning for the days gone by of greasy hasbrowns, ‘first day’ pictures and a mother’s prayers.  With no distractions, and no traditions on the horizon, they day-before-school left me with leaky eyes and missing my mom.  Then, in the early evening after a day of meetings…and copies…and lamenting (not laminating–I leave that to the professionals), I was sitting at school when my dad called–he had bought a cake for my students’ first day and was stopping by the school to drop it off.  I turned to my co-worker with full on tears. “Did he call to ask you to breakfast?” she asked, “I was praying something special would happen.”  And something special had: cake delivery was sooo much better than getting up early for breakfast

The next morning, I awoke, grateful for the cake, but disappointed that my mom wouldn’t be covering my day in prayer–and I let God know I needed a mother-figure to pray. Less than an hour later, at the coffee shop, a mother spoke blessings over me; two hours later there was a text from another mother. The prayers and encouragement continued for the rest of the day, and I relished the new First Day of School Traditions–my students did too:

“Hey Miss Witz–tell your dad the cake was AWESOME!”



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