Put them on the Bus

and some thoughts about what to do with fear

In second grade I started riding the bus home from school. I always sat with a friend who lived a few streets over. The whole process was a well-oiled machine, which suited my anxious personality quite nicely. It didn’t take long before I memorized the order of the route. I could time my own stop to the minute.

Photo by Elijah Ekdahl on Unsplash

One afternoon, it seemed we were turning on streets I’d never even seen before. I’m not sure if we had a substitute driver or what, but things were all kinds of wrong. My sense of security was rattled, and I had no idea what to do next.

I’m a firstborn. I typically follow the rules. Explicitly. So when the driver started to drop kids off completely out of order, panic set in. I worried he might forget my stop.

I turned to my friend and expressed my concern. Back then, I had the disposition of a Chihuahua on a roller coaster. Needless to say, I was fretting a bit. But my friend simply shrugged her shoulders, a typical reaction for kids who don’t rehearse worst-case-scenario on a regular basis.

She suggested that I just get off with her at her stop. Then I could get on her sister’s bike and we would ride down the street to my house. It seemed like a solid plan. Since this was long before cell phones were invented, I didn’t have the luxury of running the idea by my mom first.

As we got off the bus at her house, I silently congratulated myself for concocting the most responsible plan ever. However, moments later it dawned on me that my mom was completely in the dark.

She would be waiting at my usual stop for me as she always did. Suddenly, I was painfully aware that she would watch every kid but her own get off that bus. She would soon realize I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.

My friend and I got on the bikes and made our way to my house. Because I was accustomed to keeping my anxious thoughts to myself, I didn’t let her know that I was seconds away from heaving sobs. The reality of what had likely already occurred at my usual bus stop caused panic to sit heavy on my chest. I stood up and began pumping the pedals like my life depended on it.

I was obviously not a mother, but I had enough intuition to realize that Mom must have been paralyzed with fear by then.

I screeched around the corner to discover what I already knew to be true. There wasn’t a soul at my bus stop. Parents had scattered, everyone back inside their homes. I skidded the bike to a stop in our front yard and raced inside the house.

I yelled out “I’m here!” as I sprinted to the living room and found my mom on the phone. Her voice was gripped with panic, and whoever she was talking to clearly wasn’t giving her the answers she was looking for.

She turned to look at me, and immediately hung up the phone while I fell into her arms. As she squeezed me, I could feel the tension evaporate, and sheer relief completely consumed her.

---

As a mom, I hate reliving that story. I can’t imagine what she must have been thinking. She had no way to track my location, no option to text me. Those were the days of kids on milk cartons, so I am absolutely certain that thought crossed her mind.

And my mom could have easily let fear take over. She could have refused to let me ever ride the bus again. You know…because “what if”??

But putting me on the bus gave me a chance to practice independence, which as it turns out, is a pretty important life skill. In one afternoon, I had to learn to work through a slight panic attack. I had to make a tough decision on my own. Then I discovered what my inner voice sounded like after I knew I’d made the wrong choice.

I guarantee I learned more on that afternoon bus ride than an entire week in the classroom.

---

But sometimes it’s so hard to put our kids on that bus! When we send them off to have new experiences, we obviously hope all goes well. But sometimes we wrestle with the “what ifs” and fear creeps in.

Because it’s not just the bus, is it?

Sometimes, it’s the kindergarten lunch table.

Sometimes, it’s the elementary school playground.

Sometimes, it’s the middle school hallway.

Sometimes, it’s the high school party.

Sometimes, it’s the sketchy minimum wage job.

Sometimes, it’s the high-pressure sports team.

Sometimes, it’s the college dorm.

Sometimes, it’s the duty station.

Sometimes, it’s the one bedroom apartment hundreds of miles away.

There are plenty of moments in parenthood that tempt us to let fear cloud our perception, and it really does a number on our mama hearts. Not putting them on that bus might help us feel a sense of control or comfort for a little while, but it also robs them of the growth they so desperately need.

Being tangled up in fear really just reveals the cry of our heart that’s begging for control (ask me how I know). The temptation to let fear take over is just that: a temptation. It’s tempting us to dwell on the “what ifs” instead of the God who is.

Releasing that fear is the first step in trusting a sovereign God with our kids, no matter their age or where they go.

And I say all of this as someone trying to live each day clinging to that truth. Because I’m still adjusting to one kid being at school 700 miles to the east, and the other kid about to go to college 850 miles in the opposite direction.

Having adult children certainly doesn’t remove fear or uncertainty or “what ifs” from the equation. But it presents new opportunities to trust God in ways maybe we’ve never quite had to before.

Remember that God uses all things for our good and His glory. No experience is wasted or useless. Not for us, and not for our children. This will always be true, whether they’re in kindergarten, on a college campus, or raising kids of their own.

And when that day comes, I really hope they put them on the bus.