The Day I Held Up the School Pick-Up Line—And What It Revealed About My Heart

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I broke the cardinal rule of the school pickup line—and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

A few months ago, my son and daughter-in-law found themselves suddenly tied up at school pick up time, and all their usual backups were out of town. I don’t usually get called on to do this since I work, but that day it was me.

I have of course done hundreds (thousands) of school pickups. They gave me instructions on the particulars of my grandchildren’s school, drove over, and got in line. My grandson can buckle independently. I was going to reach back and quickly assist my granddaughter. It is really important to me that you know that I had a plan. But you know what they say about plans…

I forgot my weighted vest was in my grandson’s seat and he was having trouble lifting it. My granddaughter got tangled in her seatbelt. It was a situation where you think you have one more thing to deal with, then something else happens. I was so busy dealing with all the pandemonium that I was surprised when I got the tap on the window. 

Can you please pull forward?

I had broken the cardinal rule of the pickup line, which is don’t hold up the pickup line. 

Why did it not occur to me to pull forward?

The monitor walked over to where I had parked to try to soothe my humiliation. “I understand how hard it is when you’re not used to the car seats and things. I’m a grandmother too.” 

She meant well. It didn’t help. 

My deep shame about this puzzled me. Yes, I had made a mistake. But I work in healthcare, where mistakes can be fatal. This mistake was not a big deal in the grand scheme of things. I did feel bad that I had held other people up, because that annoyed me to no end when I picked up my own kids. It’s not typically the type of thing that people hunt you down about. Besides, only a handful of people there that day even know who I am, and that’s only if they happen to have been in eyesight of all the shenanigans. 

And yet, I could hardly bring myself to talk about it. 

It wasn’t until I came across this quote a few weeks later that I got some clarity. In it, the author shares a story about his humiliation after spilling coffee in a restaurant:

Is it possible that I was shamed rather than sorry because in the instant of “transgression” I sinned against my true god—looking good and not coming across like a fool?…In that instant, shame exposed what I trust in for “life.” The Cry of the Soul, by Allender and Longman

I have a whole book and decades of blog history to demonstrate that I have no problem sharing my mistakes. I can manage the image of the overwhelmed mom. But the bumbling grandmother? That is not a role I’m ready for. I would much rather be the cool, fun nana. 

This moment exposed my true god. And as the author states later in the chapter, that god stood by mute and impotent while I flailed.

I love being a grandmother. I love my relationships with my adult children and their spouses. I tell myself that means I am okay with getting older. But this showed me that I am only okay with getting older if it means I can be independent, sassy, and wise. Not if it includes being inept and in need of assistance.

The school, to my knowledge anyway, has not banned me from after-school pickup. I hope the people behind me were in gracious moods that day (at least nobody honked). I will always need grace. Some days just remind me more easily.