From the minute I first saw you in that hospital room, all blue, with pointy ears, looking more Vulcan than human, part of my heart jumped out of my chest and into yours. I connected with you instantly, in a way that I had never with any being before, and would only connect with two others.
You were two years old. We were sitting in the back of that plane, waiting to get off, hot and tired. You were standing on the seat. Your mom and I looked at you, and we could see it in your eyes: you were about to vomit. With my parental x-ray vision, I watched that morning’s breakfast making the return trip up your esophagus, and I did what any parent would do, instinctively: I put my hands under your mouth to catch what came out next. As I did, a little voice inside my head said, “hmmm….interesting….for any other human being on this planet you saw upchuck, including your wife, your immediate instinct would be to get as far away from the offending substance as possible. And yet, for this little being, your immediate instinct is to catch it.” You will never know, at least not for another decade or so, the power of a parent’s love.
And, so, when it came time to educate you, your mom and I put more research and planning into choosing your school than went into the Normandy invasion (I didn’t work here then, remember). Your mom had data and numbers and anecdotal evidence, John Stossel and Ralph Nader combined. Yet, when it boiled down to it, the decision was very simple. We loved Jesus, and we wanted you to love Him, too. We figured that this school would help us give you the best shot at that.
God, as He does so often, took our little finite seedling of vision, and brought forth more than we could have ever hoped or imagined. He used precious teachers: ones like the K4 teacher who has had hundreds just like you since the day you left her classroom, and yet still stops me often to remind me of stories about when you were little, or corrects me when I tell those stories wrong. Like that fourth grade teacher, who I almost switched you out of because I, in my grand and infinite wisdom, thought you needed a “warm fuzzy” and who was definitely not that. Praise the Lord I didn’t, because that one taught you how to be a student, how to work hard, and gave you so much that has held you in such good stead to this day.
Like that coach who has high standards for you, because she sees what’s inside you and knows that’s the person you can be, while at the same time having a heart of gold and loving you dearly. Or, those teachers who taught you to write, to beautifully express your beautiful heart, a heart that so many others have cultivated through prayers and encouragement and love and words of life and Jesus and truth.
And, friends: oh, the friends you’ve made. Beautiful young ladies in their own right; imperfect, yes, but magnificent young Christians in the making, who love you and will hold you to goodness and truth, as you do for them. One of the great joys of my life has been doing life with their moms and dads, growing our kids together, watching them grow and become what we’d hoped and prayed they would. From sitting on those tiny chairs in the K4 classroom, praying for your critically injured classmate, to sitting in the stadium stands, cheering you on, most of what I’ve learned or know about how to raise you I’ve learned from those precious people sitting next to me.
You’re ready now. There’s not a doubt in my mind. You know how to study and succeed in school. The finest teachers anywhere have prepared you. You know how to find your people, and to choose great and godly friends—just do what you’ve already done. Most of all, you know how to chase after Jesus—this amazing, beloved community who loves you, has prayed for you, and has invested their sweat, tears, and heart into you has taught and modeled that for you, every single day. I am profoundly grateful. You are a priceless work of art, fashioned by the Hands of a loving Creator through people who I love and admire deeply. I cannot wait to see what becomes of one of their masterpieces.
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