The end of the school year has passed. As I picked up my daughter from her class on her last day, her teacher was handing out the final report cards. Within the smudged white envelope were letters that determined my daughter’s high’s and low’s of her last term. I took the envelope and shoved it into the bottom of her backpack.
Soon enough I had forgotten that smudged white envelope and had begun coasting through the business of the after school flurry- chatter, snack begging from the children, more chatter about the day from my husband, the never-ending process of preparing dinner. It was hours later before I remembered the envelope. I pulled it from the smelly bottom of the bag thinking I’d better wash the bag itself before the smell began to waft and permeate the air. I sat down at the kitchen counter and read the report card.
As I peeled open the top, I tried to remind myself that they were just letters on a page. My daughter excelled at certain subjects and had worked hard to bring up her performance in other subjects. It was clear to me that some work would still be needed in others. But we can do it… together.
The wayward child within me could see the war before my very own eyes: a play on my emotions one may say. The war was a struggle for perfectionism in a world that demands our all, or grace from a spirit that demands our best.
If there exists a report card in heaven based upon every one of my own performances, what would it look like? How would the God of all heaven and earth rate me based upon a graph of letters? I may be wrong, but I am pretty sure he would not be overly concerned with my reading, writing, and arithmetic.
I believe His report would contain subjects like compassion, generosity, and mercy just to name a few.
So this wayward child chose best- grace from a spirit that demands my best, not my all. Because the truth is, I don’t have “all” to give. I’ve only got my best. Yes, the subjects of heaven are all we must dwell upon as we grow our children into adulthood. The subjects of heaven are the guidelines in the shaping of ones character.
But I’m sure having the multiplication table memorized couldn’t hurt either.
Just read a bit to mom about Elizabeth’s House,shes’ very proud of you and so am I.
Love aunt Philomena.