My stomach was in knots. I was a little short of breath. And my heart raced inside me.

It was the first day of kindergarten.

No, this isn't some distant memory I recall from my own childhood. This actually happened Tuesday. And no, technically it wasn't MY first day of kindergarten. It was my first day as a mom of a kindergartner. And I survived!

I used to shake my head in wonder at parents who expressed such stress or apprehension over their child going to school. What is the big deal? I wondered. I figured I would be skipping all the way, happy to drop off my child and have more "me" time.

But something changed.

Somewhere along the way, I went from a woman who wasn't quite sure I wanted kids (I can't control their every move? they'll have free will and may rebel against me? I'll get a pet, thank you.) to a person who can't wait to see a little girl's smile and feel her hug every morning. I've become a mom who, at random and unexplained times, can cry at the drop of a hat or a tug-at-the-heartstrings sappy commercial, whichever comes first.

What I thought I'd be and what I thought I'd want has changed. (Of course, those things have probably been readjusting themselves from the moment I met my dear and entertaining husband, so I shouldn't expect otherwise.) All in all, I'm OK with that.

So this summer, I tended to put off dreary things like laundry and cleaning, and even nice things like blogging and emails, so that I could squeeze out every drop of time this summer had to offer. Because I knew when August 16 began, our world would change.

We had an AMAZING summer. Not one huge thing but a ton of small moments, etched together to form a picture of joy. I was intentional, and that made all the difference. I hope I learn something and continue to be intentional with each of my family and friend relationships. And I have Steve to thank for working so hard to allow me home time with Kaelyn.

Yes, having some more time to do some things will be a positive of the whole thing. And eventually it will all become routine—once I establish a routine and it's not all so new. As I see how Kaelyn is growing from her time with new friends and great teachers, learning things beyond my skill set (ex: German), I will feel even better about this whole thing. (She's already had great stories to tell!)

For now, I'll miss my little helper as I go about my day. I'll continue to figure out what else I want to be when I grow up and what needs I can fill for our church and others in this new weekly schedule.

And I'll start finding out all the joys that come in seeing a little girl become a little bigger and a little more independent kindergarten girl.

I am a rule-follower. When I consider infringing upon the smallest regulation, it gives me heart palpitations. If someone projects authority, I will strive to obey it.

I don't take risks. But I have a friend who does. And when I'm with that friend, I've been encouraged to live a little more, go beyond my bounds. In a good way! No harm has come by me to loosen up on matters that aren't rigid. I've been known to dip a toe into waters I'd normally shy away from.

But my friend's willingness to take risks causes people to give a label. Which is sad because I know my friend's heart. Passion for God and people and truth come before all. So if some rule is slamming God or hurting people or deceiving the truth, my friend will snap it in half. In a nice way. :)

I just get sad when my friend is perceived poorly, assumed to be a certain way because of sticking up for such beliefs. I'll admit that I have had (and may occasionally still have) a tendency to look down upon people who aren't as goody-two-shoes as me. Why can't they just fall in line? I wonder. But I'm glad I met my friend. Now my perspective is different. And I thank God for humbling me, reminding me that He made everyone with different strengths. I've got my own foibles. And if it weren't for rule-benders or breakers, who would fight for freedoms or truths? Jesus was considered a wee bit of a rebel himself!

So to my friend I say: I know your heart. If others don't see it yet, that's their problem. I've got your back.

Prayer: what does it do? what does it change? does it matter if we pray or what we pray if God is going to do what He's going to do anyway? why do some prayers get answered but others don't?

Though I have grown up following God, loving Him, and having faith in Him, these questions always creep up in the back of my mind. And I always keep praying, trusting that something is happening, even if I don't always know what. Yet this week I prayed in a new way.

I do know that prayer is about deepening our relationship with our Creator and Father, not just about a laundry list of wishes we want fulfilled. So even when I pray for things, I obviously say to God that I will accept that He knows best, even if it's against my wishes. That's even how Jesus prayed the night before He was crucified. So that's what I do.

But I've often felt that I pray weakly. Yes, I have faith that God can do anything. But I know He sometimes chooses not to, for reasons I don't know. So sometimes I give a mumbling "your will be done" without much hope. I feel like I'm trying to obey that way. Yet then when I look at some dear friends who pray with fervor, stating how powerful God is, fully asking Him to do the miraculous. Maybe I've felt that I don't have the right to ask such of Him? I don't know.

Tuesday night changed that. One of the most fervent pray-ers I know—the most confident in God's might and miraculous nature, who freely asks God and just KNOWS He will answer—was told by doctors that she might not live through the night. And I just couldn't accept that.

So God and I had a conversation. At first I put Him off. I got home from the hospital and busied myself, distracting my mind from the sadness I felt. But then I went to my room and had it out with God. I felt like Moses, who "reminded" God of all His attributes, told God that if He was to move and take action that it would show everyone all of His glory and power.

I'd always wondered about that whole relationship. God knew all of this; why did Moses say such? But I remember Steve preaching about this text—that it was a process God wanted Moses to experience. God remained the same, but He wanted to get to this point in their relationship, wanted Moses to see from a new perspective.

The thing is, the whole time I prayed these similar things, God knew what was on my mind. And I always trust that He knows what I really want and feel. But this time I verbalized it. I laid it all out in no uncertain terms. I had faith in His power and I begged Him to use it. "We all need Kathy. All of us need her. It's not time yet." I still was sad, not sure what God would choose to do. I could think of times when people still died though many prayed. Then He reminded me of all the other times when people lived—my grandmother lived through two major surgeries last year, though we thought death was imminent; my brother lived though he was born three months early; Kaelyn lived when she came early too; and on and on. So I trusted in His power once again.

And in the morning, hope rose anew. Kathy still lived and began to get stronger. Each day this week, she is doing something more, improving and improving. Doctors are astounded.

But, like Kathy knew all along, we understand who is in control.