into the unknown

I’m sitting, laptop open upon my knees, on a splintery reddish-brown step off the deck of our lake cabin. The man who was scheduled to stain it earlier this summer never came. We’ll wait until next spring, Todd tells me. Now, in mid-August, the flaking, fading wood has gotten worse.

Today, it feels like fall is begging to step in for summer. The breeze coming in off the lake chills my skin and creates goosebumps on my bare arms and legs. Perhaps this sense of seasonal change is not due to the cooler temperature, but because an office worker from Micah’s high school called me today reminding me that I have yet to register him for school—which starts in less than two weeks. Yikes! Oh–and that the head traveling nurse phoned me to go over his type 1 diabetes protocol as well.

Clearly, I’m not ready; my long, tan, barefoot feet are dragging. I want to linger in the last of these warm unstructured days, write on my laptop, read my new Ann Patchett novel, sleep in a little later, enjoy the beauty of the lake, the pines, savor the mournful call of the loons before they depart for their winter homes.

I want to stop time, want to block the unknown coming slow and steady down the road.

This year Micah will be a junior. His schedule is packed: English, US history, math, and a myriad of electives. He is mainstreamed into all classes except two. I’m both excited and a little nervous, but I’m certain of two things: my son is a hard worker, and we will get through it together.

For starters, there is a new special education (resource) teacher. I met him a couple weeks ago, this young man fresh out of college, so eager to begin, to exercise his new skills. “I’ve wanted this job since I started high school,” he tells me, his eyes conveying honesty and kindness. I can’t help but trust him. Micah will love this guy, I think. It’s going to be a good year.

In fact, I believe the next two years will be good—enjoyable even. I have faith that God will orchestrate it all, will bring us through, and, as always, will help us accept the triumphs along with the challenges.

But truth be told, the closer our son gets to graduation, my faith weakens, and the more I dread what’s lies ahead.

Because of his disability, Micah has the option to stay within the school system to work on life and work skills until he’s 21. But what will that look like? Will he be washing tables in the lunch area? Will he be pushing a broom or a mop to clean the hallways? Will we keep him there or will there be the option of some college classes—if he even qualifies? Will there be a job out there that he’ll enjoy, a volunteer opportunity that he’ll be excited to participate in?

What will life look like for him—and for us? Do I even want to know?

I’m typically not a procrastinator, but for this unknown—the one that looms in the not-so-distant future—I’d do anything to put it off.

So, I come back to faith. God has brought us this far; He will bring us through—will bring Micah through. I know how much He cares about him, and deep down (even though I struggle to feel It now), I know I have no reason to worry.

I will fix my eyes on the opportunities this bright new school year brings: A new fall musical Micah might audition for, the possibility of joining the improv group (he loved it at Trollwood this summer), racquet sports in physed, and learning Spanish (for when we visit Mexico).

And I will pray that the fear of the unknown becomes less and less as Micah and I walk hand in hand through these last years of school together.