In all of God's creative imagination and wisdom, children must bring to God the wry-est of smiles. My mother repeatedly said to me, "I hope your children grow up to be just like you so that you will know what you have done to me!" and, as God would have it, mothers have a way of getting just what they want . . . . . . our children and grandchildren are all perfect, each in their own way, just as is their father. (I am mentally pausing here to let the laughter subside of those who really know me.)
Today is the 17th birthday of our youngest gift of God's perfection among us, Ched, and I cannot let the day pass without saying what is on my heart to him:
My dearest Ched,
I remember the day in May, in South Bend, Indiana, when you were born. We should have known immediately what an interesting journey we were in for with you when, after cutting the umbilical cord, the nurse took you to a scale to weigh you and found you to weigh only about four pounds. The nurse knew the scale was wrong and took you to another scale to weigh you and found you to be healthy and robust at over seven pounds . . . . and you have been living by a different set of scales ever since.
Some people measure life by awards on the wall and, though surely you have already amassed a number of them, you have never been one of those who use such a measuring stick. You have always measured life by the wide diversity of friends around you, the pleasure of listening to music you really like, offering a helpful hand as needed, the pursuit of knowledge which interests you, and the accumulation of wisdom which makes you a better person in the world. Don't ever stop measuring life in such wonderful ways!
Some people believe that being the youngest in the family means that you must have had to grow up in the shadow of those who are before you. Unfortunately, people stuck in such beliefs reflect more of their own challenges than a understanding of who you are. They have never met you. You have never been one to dwell in the shadows of your brothers, you have been (and are) far too busy in the sunshine of God's Light in your life to worry about the shadows others cast. You are as intrigued by the light of the sun as you are curious about the twinkle of the stars. Your life is an undimmed expression of faith, joy and hope, all wrapped up in the tenderness of one who exercises great expectations of what God has yet to reveal in you and through you. You are your own unique light of God in our world and I simply love watching what you are doing to dispel the darkness of the present age.
Some people say that being the youngest of three boys, all who have gone through the same school system, means that you are always having to strive to be better than your brothers were in school. It brings tears to my eyes as I think on how all three of you boys have been your own person throughout your educational and extra-curricular years. As your older brothers before you, you have cut a wide swath in the educational arena, taking the hardest courses, challenging the toughest teachers, and earning the highest grades possible, not because someone else set the standard for you, but because you set high standards for yourself. Equally, on both the field of play and on the stage of group activities, you have earned the respect of advisor and teammate alike in your tenacious capacity to work hard, not only for the sake of personal growth, but for the sake of whole. You do not find it necessary to diminish others in your striving to shine, for you understand the brightness the whole of humanity might offer if everyone works together - and I am humbled by your gracious nature.
Some people say that, at 17, you have a whole lot to learn and little of substance to offer. I say that, at 17, yes, you do have a whole lot to learn, but you, my son, have a substantial wealth of maturity, faith and wisdom to offer all of the 'some peoples' in the world. You have spent 17 years in the fishbowl of a pastor's home, the parsonage or manse as some would call it, and have had to deal with more people with issues of domestic violence, death notifications, hospital emergency calls, marriage crises, non-payment of rent, need for medicine, transients, complaints about the pastor, concerns about the church, and older adults just needing someone to talk to, than anyone would ever, could ever, believe . . . . and always you have treated the ones in need with respect, love and care. Your simple acts of hospitality to the stranger have never made you better than them, but have always made you companions with them in the twistedness of life's journey and, believe me, most folk would rather have a trustworthy caring companion on the journey than all of the well-meaning substantive advice in the world.
I am so proud of you - and of who you are becoming. None of us are the finished product of what God intends in us, but you, at 17, are well on the way. Just as no race in the track meet will ever completely define you, neither will any one event or day contain all that you will become in God. What matters is how you run the race, the tenacity with which you persevere, your capacity to be a gentleman on the track as well as off, your faith in the God who is with you in every step, and your attention to those with whom you share the challenges before you.
We are blessed that you are our son, just as we are blessed with your older brothers. God has made each of you in that most peculiar and particular way which identifies you as one of God's own: Your eyes reflect God's love. On this day I am grateful for all of the basketball games, the soccer games, the track meets, the golf games, the days in the pool, the hours of talking, the projects worked on together, and the times our family has shared laughter and challenge. But, most of all, I am simply, tearfully, joyful that I am blessed, that we are blessed, to call you 'son', for like the Son before you whose actions led His Father to announce from heaven, "With you I am well pleased!" so, too, you are rising from the birthwaters to do what you are gifted to do in God's creation and that is most pleasing to me.
I love you, Ched. Happy 17th birthday!
Dad
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