There are few sounds in Canadian life more capable of announcing a new season than the first school bus rumbling down the road in September.
It arrives before most of us are emotionally prepared.
One day the neighbourhood is enjoying the slow rhythm of summer mornings. Coffee is consumed at a civilized pace. Dogs stroll rather than march. Children seem to emerge from their houses around noon looking as though breakfast is still a negotiable concept.
Then suddenly, one Tuesday morning, a large yellow vehicle appears before sunrise with all the subtlety of the Second Coming.
Within minutes, lunch bags have gone missing, somebody cannot find a shoe, parents are wondering why homework already exists after only one day of school, and the entire neighbourhood is awake fifteen minutes earlier than it had intended.
September has officially arrived.
Even those of us who no longer have children heading off to school somehow feel it. We instinctively begin organizing calendars, clearing desks, making lists, and promising ourselves that this year we will finally become the sort of organized people we have admired from a respectful distance for decades.
It is a lovely annual illusion.
The remarkable thing is that God seems to have built this rhythm into creation itself.
Scripture is filled with fresh beginnings.
Abraham leaves home.
Moses starts over in the wilderness.
Israel crosses the Jordan into a new land.
The disciples leave their fishing nets.
Paul begins again after discovering that everything he thought he knew about God was only the introduction.
Again and again, God seems wonderfully comfortable beginning new chapters.
Perhaps that is because grace is always more interested in the future than in the past.
One of the great gifts of September is that it quietly reminds us we are allowed to begin again.
Not because we have failed.
Not because the previous season was wasted.
But because living things naturally keep growing.
Trees do not apologize for producing another ring.
Farmers do not criticize wheat for needing another season.
Gardeners do not scold tomatoes for taking time.
Growth has always required another chapter.
I suspect adults need September almost as much as children do.
The children receive new backpacks.
We receive another opportunity to become the people God has patiently been shaping all along.
Perhaps this is the month to reopen your Bible.
Perhaps it is time to begin praying again after a long silence.
Perhaps there is someone who deserves a phone call.
Perhaps there is forgiveness waiting to be offered—or received.
Perhaps there is a ministry you’ve quietly been postponing because you imagined someone else was more qualified.
The school bus reminds us that lessons are beginning once again.
The Holy Spirit has been conducting continuing education for disciples ever since Pentecost.
The curriculum never really ends.
Thankfully, neither does the patience of the Teacher.
Stephen Leacock might have observed that schools spend considerable effort convincing children that education requires bells, schedules, attendance records, and report cards, while God somehow manages to teach most of life’s deepest lessons through ordinary Tuesdays, unexpected conversations, burnt casseroles, missed turns, long walks, and the occasional spectacular mistake.
The Divine Classroom has always been somewhat unconventional.
Fortunately, the Instructor is exceptionally patient.
As the first buses roll through our neighbourhoods this September, perhaps they carry more than students.
Perhaps they carry an invitation.
Not merely to remember our own school days.
But to remember that discipleship is lifelong.
No one ever graduates from learning the love of God.
And that may be the best news September has to offer.
May God grant us the curiosity of children, the humility of beginners, and the joyful confidence to climb aboard whatever new lesson grace has prepared for us next.
After all, the Teacher has already arrived.
We’re simply waiting for the bus.
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Companion Prayer
Gracious Teacher,
As a new season begins, give us the courage to be lifelong learners in the school of your grace. Open our hearts to the lessons you place before us in ordinary days, familiar faces, and unexpected moments. Grant us the humility to begin again, the patience to keep growing, and the faith to trust that you are always leading us toward the fullness of life in Christ.
May we welcome each new day with curiosity, hope, and joy, knowing that your mercies are new every morning.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.