Sunday, March 07, 2010

What If, Part II

Part I is here
Okay, so we've established that Bubba and I (not to mention Eve and Lola) are over-the-moon for this lovely, lovely school. Logistically, it will mean some restructuring for our family since it will not only mean that the girls will be in two different schools, but two different schools with different hours with two freeways separating them. Two freeways that are notorious for being clogged during rush hour.

We have eleven days to go until we are notified about Eve's application status. That being said, Bubba and I have had this feeling that things will just be okay. I hesitate to jinx myself by saying "she's in," but at the same time, Bubba is not the kind of man (read: farmboy with Rush-Limbaugh-loving parents) who gets feelings, so the fact that he has one now is pretty powerful.

As part of my preparation, I asked the admissions director at the school to put me in touch with some families who are currently making the commute so that I could pick their brains about how it works or doesn't. Monday she called me to say she had "the perfect family." Wednesday I emailed this family to propose meeting for coffee. Wednesday afternoon I received a reply asking me whether we would like to come to their house on Saturday to meet the family and talk. Eve and I accepted gratefully.

So what if? What if this family has two daughters, one and two years older than Eve, respectively? What if their journey toward this magical school was so similar to ours that there was an instant connection? What if the entire family welcomed us into their home, affectionate dog cantering out the front door to show off his toy, three girls poised at the entrance with smiles on their faces, ready to whisk Eve off to play and chat? What if their mother invited me in to this warm place, ripe with color and life, poured me a cup of tea and offered me "the Queen's chair" in the family room? What if, throughout the course of the next two hours our conversation never waned and the feeling that we were meant to meet and collaborate and become part of each other's lives blossomed? What if she suddenly recalled the name of another family whose two daughters were also applying to this school and called her to come join us? What if we all sat around getting to know each other over red wine and agreeing to rely on each other to get our girls to school and make this work?

For most of my life I believed that I had the power to make things happen. Make things right. Fix things just so. I believed that all I had to do was plan ahead, map out my actions, and work really hard to effect the change I wanted to see. It was exhausting, but I had control. I thought.

Ever since we embarked on this journey to find a place for Eve to go to school that would offer her joy and passion and a true community I have learned to let go. Simply putting the request out into the universe and trusting that something would present itself has been enough. The hardest part has been putting to bed any preconceived notions about what that something might look like. From the beginning, the pieces have simply fallen in to place. I know in my heart that this school is the best place for Eve and for all of us as a family. In two short hours with this family I came to feel even more strongly about this. While I sat in the family room, the girls took Eve to the park to play and answered all of her questions about their school. She came back smiling and settled.

The magic of this place continues to spread. Strangely, a table at the annual celebration event for this school (that happens to be hosted by the family I spent the afternoon with), just happened to have two seats open up. Of course, she offered them to me. Of course I accepted. There are eleven days to go until we find out whether Eve gets in. I'm not really worried. Did I mention that this mom is not only a musician but an interpretive medium? Yeah. That's right.

1 comment:

Deb Shucka said...

Of course. To all of it. What if you can finally relax into the knowing that good happens? Love.

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