This past week was a big one in our house—Penny started kindergarten. Real kindergarten. Backpacks, packed lunches, tiny lockers, and a classroom full of new faces. I’d been preparing for this moment all summer, slowly bracing my heart for the inevitable tears and clinging hugs I was sure would happen at drop-off.
But here’s the twist: she did amazing.
No tears. No breakdowns. Just a confident little girl, striding into her new classroom like she’d been doing it for years. She gave me a hug, sat in her seat, gave me a quick wave, and, “Bye Mama.” As I walked home I was stunned and proud and maybe just a tiny bit sad at the ease in which she so easily said goodbye (just kidding—mostly proud).
The whole week went so smoothly. Each day she came home chattering about her new friends (whose names she still can’t remember), the songs they sang, and what all of her unnamed friends ate at lunch. I should have been basking in the joy of a successful kindergarten launch.
But then came Friday.
Friday, for some reason, was the day my mom-brain short-circuited. Penny was scheduled to be picked up by the afterschool program, something that we had prepared for all week. But that afternoon, a wild, irrational fear gripped me: What if they forget her? What if she’s standing alone outside the school? What if she gets on the wrong van? What if something happens and no one notices?
Cue the panic.
Before I knew it, I was in the car, racing toward the school with tears streaming down my face. My thoughts were spiraling into every worst-case scenario imaginable. What if she wandered off? What if she was scared and crying? What if this day would be the one she remembered as “the day Mommy left me at school”?
And so, like any sane, rational mother (kidding again), I parked discreetly across from the school, hid behind a tree, and watched like some undercover agent on a top-secret mission.
I stood there holding my breath, eyes locked on the school doors. I am honestly shocked that another parent didn’t report the crazy blonde 40-something woman who was hysterically crying on the lawn outside of the school.
Then… there she was. My sweet Penny walked out the door with a group of friends, laughing and joking, and headed confidently toward the correct line. Within minutes, she was safely in the van, completely unfazed, completely fine.
I, on the other hand, was a wreck in leggings and sunglasses, crying behind a tree.
As I watched her ride away, safe and secure, a quiet thought stirred in my heart: This is how God watches over us.
Not in a panicked, tree-hugging, worst-case-scenario kind of way (thank goodness), but in a deeply attentive, always-present kind of way. I thought I was being “extra” that day, but maybe it was a holy moment—a glimpse into the heart of our Heavenly Father.
The way I watched over Penny, the way I couldn’t rest until I saw her safe—it reminded me that God never takes His eyes off us. Even when we’re unaware, even when we think we’re all alone, He’s there.
PC: Joanna Gott
Psalm 121:3-4 says:
“He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.”
God doesn’t take breaks. He doesn’t miss the pickup line. He doesn’t forget where we are. He watches, not with fear, but with love and assurance. And unlike me, crying behind trees, God watches with power—the kind that can actually do something in every moment we need Him.
Isaiah 41:10 also came to mind:
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
This week taught me something I didn’t expect: that parenting, especially in the tender, vulnerable moments, reflects the heart of God in the most beautiful ways. Our fierce love, our deep worry, our longing to protect—it’s all a dim reflection of the way He loves and protects us.
Even when we don’t see Him, He’s standing guard.
Even when we think we’re handling things on our own, He’s orchestrating safety and provision behind the scenes.
Even when we wander off or get on the wrong “van” (metaphorically speaking), He is near, guiding us back.
There’s also this comforting verse from Psalm 32:8:
“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.”
That phrase—“my loving eye on you”—feels so personal, so tender. Isn’t that what we all want? Someone watching us with love. Not judgment, not indifference, but love. And that’s what we have in God. A loving eye that never looks away.
Penny had a great first week of school. She’s braver than I realized, and maybe I’m a little more fragile than I’d like to admit. But through it all, I’m thankful for the gentle reminder that we’re never alone—not her, not me, not you.
God is near.
He’s watching, loving, protecting… maybe even from behind a tree.
And honestly, if this is how emotional I get over the afterschool pickup van, someone please check on me when she goes to college. At this rate, I’m going to be the mom hiding behind a bush outside her dorm with binoculars and a care package.
Pray for me.
PIN THIS!
Read more of Joanna’s contributions to AllMomDoes here.
