By David Melton
I only know a little bit about half of what I’m talking about. That is not much of an impressive opening line, but it is honest. My wife, Kim, and I have four boys, so our education about little guys with trucks and tree limbs for rifles and every kind of sports under the sun is ongoing. We are even learning about the process of little boys growing into older boys and then into young men. We live it every day.
We have no daughters. That is in the providence of God, for good reason I am sure. Honestly, I would be scared to have a daughter. I could see me as an old man running over some guy who even looked at my daughter wrong.
So I’m learning about sons and having to vicariously get remedial education about daughters. But then I watch them come to Boston.
Again this fall I came over to campus to watch students move in. There are hugs all around for returning students, lots of laughs and updates from the summer months. For the new students, there are introductions, putting faces and voices with names, trying to put moms and dads at ease about leaving their prized possessions — their sons and daughters — with us.
That gets me. I know when parents bring their young people to college here in Boston there is some anxiety involved. Some of it is in the hearts of students, stepping out on their new venture of higher education away from home. But, in my observation, there is more stress on the faces and in the body language of mom and dad. Sure, college is costly, and parents usually bear the brunt of that burden. But that isn’t really it. There are lots of jokes, a few passing remarks, and even a silence at times that screams, “Take care of this one!”
To all the moms and dads out there, I promise you that in Boston we will treat them like they are our own. I have four boys, and I am just crazy enough to believe that each one of them is amazing. My son, Davey, is a musician who has his mother’s charm and who has a smoothness about him that is beyond his years and that I really admire. Samuel is an artist who cracks me up at his independent view of everything, and underneath it all, is one of the kindest people I know. Matthew is my comic — I once told him that I would pay a lot of money just to hear him laugh. He busted out laughing right then and there and told me, “Do it — pay up!” Besides that, he shares my devotion to the Red Sox. Then there is four-year-old Joshua. I am afraid I can’t tell you about Joshua. There are no words — you’ll just have to meet him.
Do we have a greater treasure than the children that God gives us? And if we are blessed enough that our children grow up and want to serve God…well, it just doesn’t get much better than that! Kim and I pray that for our boys constantly.
So the sentimental side of me aches to watch parents bring sons and daughters to Boston. I pain to watch the long good-bye hugs, when words just won’t come out when it’s finally time to leave, when you keep staring in the rearview mirror as long as you can…
And I remember the “son-side” too. I remember getting on an airplane to go off to college, trying to keep my cool in front of dad and mom. Then I remember going into the plane’s lavatory and bawling like a five-year-old. When a flight attendant banged on the door to tell me that I needed to come out and sit down so we could take off, I told her to “Shut up and leave me alone!” I’m not proud of that necessarily, but I do remember.
The start of college, particularly a ministry college, is a heart-rending affair. All students are sons and daughters. And they are treasures. Thankfully, they are not only treasures to us, they are treasures to God. Only eternity will unveil what good these sons and daughters will do.
So to Wesley and Cindy, “I saw her today and she is doing great!”
Jeff and Becky, “That boy is a hoot…going to make a Kingdom difference.”
Barry and Cynthia, “She’s great, and she even likes one of the right college football teams!”
John and Betty, “Took him out to lunch last week with one of my own sons…what a great young man you’ve got there!”
Kim and Kevin, “He is special, no doubt about it — anybody can see it.”
And Tom and Bethany, “I am so glad you sent your son to Boston. A godly son is a great treasure.”
All students are sons and daughters. And they are treasures. Thankfully, they are not only treasures to us, they are treasures to God.