It’s that time of year again. This was a beautiful morning; this was a sad morning. I sat on the porch steps waving goodbye as my husband drove my children off to the first day of school, and I thought I might just start crying. Highly irrational, but that’s part of being a mom.

I’ve always heard that moms are supposed to celebrate when their children head back to school. But after a summer filled with being together and having endless hours of fun, being left all alone … stinks. Yeah, it stinks. Am I alone here? Do any other moms feel the same?

I looked out at the acreage before me, with all its promise of adventure, and on this morning it was still and quiet. My mind was filled with memories of go carts, dirt bikes, horseback riding, basketball competitions, and messy water fights peppered with the sound of laughter and squeals of delight. In spite of the empty feeling in my soul this morning, the memories of the last two months caused me to smile and wonder how summer came and went so quickly.

Each day when my children were with me I was filled with such purpose and joy. The excited anticipation on my son’s face each morning: “What are we going to do today, Mom?” My daughter’s gentle questioning: “Can we ride the horses today?” What a sweet blessing that spending time with me was the children’s desired goal of the day.

But not today. Today I am alone. Today I am sad.

But then something unexpected happened. As I sat sulking, I heard a gentle whisper: “What do you want to do today, Tracey? Can we read my Word?”

I felt a soothing warmth and was filled with anticipation and the very real understanding that I was not alone. God, my Heavenly Father, is expectantly waiting. Just as my children wanted to spend time with me each day, He desires for me to want to spend time with Him. And I can, because I am “alone.”

As I picked up the worn Bible that got a little dusty over the summer, I turned to James 4:8a and drank in the promise, “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” I laughed at myself.

“Alone. What was I thinking?”

Copyright © 2007 by Tracey Eyster. All rights reserved. Used by permission.