AT THIS TIME OF YEAR, many thousands of kids of all ages are getting ready to go back to school. For many of them, it's a breeze. For others, like our Callista starting kindergarten two years ago, a bit of an ordeal.

Everything had begun well. Right on time, Callista was beautifully dressed for her ever-so-special first day, her nails painted purple to match her favorite sundress, her Dora the Explorer backpack at her side. And there were a few minutes to spare in which to play and be silly with her sister.

As those minutes ticked away, I guess Callista got a bit nervous about her first encounter with a school bus and the thought of heading off to an unfamiliar place. Her sister, Amanda, called us to her. Callista was just standing there, looking pale and sick to her stomach. All she could say was, "The bus doesn't have seatbelts," and, "I'll miss you so much." Cozy reassurances about God's presence were to no avail. It was pretty clear that Callista suddenly wanted nothing to do with the bus ride or even going to school at all.

Scott, my husband, took her inside to comfort and encourage her, while I saw our older daughter off on the bus. Callista was calmer when she got inside, but still not thrilled even about being driven to school. As a former kindergarten teacher, I knew that missing the first day was unacceptable. But forcing her to go was also out of the question. Fortunately, I had a solution—prayer. I pray every day for the safety and health of my daughters. But this seemed different. Overwhelming. So I called a Christian Science practitioner to help us find peace of mind.

She immediately reassured me that because Callista was a child of God, her peace and joy on this special day could not be interfered with. It was her divine right to be cared for, happy, and confident.

I sat quietly for a few minutes after our phone call and thought about those ideas. I mentally let go of the distressing picture of my scared little girl and all of the emotions that go with such a scene. I replaced that picture with what I knew was Callista's true nature—spiritual and peaceful, the child of God.

When I felt confident enough to move forward, I went to Callista's room. Yes, she would now let me drive her to school. Though she was still not thrilled with the idea, her panic and paleness were gone.

I dropped her off, continuing to confirm in thought her right to a happy day. I also embraced in thought the other parents who'd had weepy kids or were downright weepy themselves and had landed in the school lunchroom, which has a sign on the door, "The Boo Hoo Cafe." Peace and dominion are divinely natural, I reminded myself—for every parent and every child at that school. No boohooing from anyone!

Although Callista was hesitant about entering class, once she was inside, she apparently forgot all about me. I thought about her several times during that morning, and kept going back to those ideas that I had been praying with, including, "The calm and exalted thought or spiritual apprehension is at peace" (Science and Health, p. 506).

The afternoon bus wasn't an issue, since I pick up both children after school. Before we set out for home, Callista readily consented to check out the buses waiting for other kids. We were greeted by her morning driver, who happity agreed to let her climb aboard for a peek. It was not so scary after all, and she seemed excited about riding it the next morning.

Her second day of school, Callista hopped right on the bus and chugged off to another great day of kindergarten. No problem. When a teacher in the hall after school asked her how she was enjoying kindergarten, she proudly answered that she rode the bus. What part of the ride was her favorite? "All the parts," she said.

As Callista now prepares to enter second grade at a new school building, and Amanda steps up from elementary to junior high school, I know those same healing ideas are right at hand—for each of us.