It’s nearly October, which means the back-to-school flurry has given way to a more settled fall routine. That goes for life at church as well. The sudden post-Labor Day shift from summer doldrums to what feels like hyperactivity is a bit jarring. But once we jolt ourselves into a more active pace, we adjust and even feel grateful for all the opportunities the church affords us.
For churches like ours that operate a nursery school, the September bustle includes the foot traffic of nervous young parents and their bewildered children. Over the course of a couple of weeks, they gingerly make that first painful transition from being together all the time to separating for a few hours a day. The initial snip of the apron strings is more difficult for some families than for others. A familiar sound of the season is the wailing of tots who suddenly realize with horror that their parents have left them with a group of strangers. Nice strangers, but strangers nonetheless.
Separation anxiety is just part of growing up, of course, and it usually goes both ways. Parents may keep it together the first time they say goodbye to their youngsters, but many of them spend a few minutes sobbing softly in their vehicles before they pull out of the parking lot.
One morning a couple of weeks ago, as I listened to the helpless, screaming cry of a youngster facing the abyss of life without Mom, I thought about the spiritual separation anxiety that adults often face. Many of us first encounter God’s presence in a personal way during times of hardship. We sense a greater Presence giving us strength, or even rescuing us from a seemingly intractable situation. That early, palpable experience of God shapes our spirituality. We embrace prayer enthusiastically. We begin to notice signs of God all around us. Gratitude grows into joy. We begin to feel invincible.