Letter to Barry May 2006

May 10, 2006 Dear Barry, There were times when it was impossible to imagine this day, your graduation from high school. From the very beginning you gave us a scare, being born many weeks early and spending the first days of your life in neonatal intensive care. Sitting there for hours, watching you sleep, I was so proud. Yet, as the little baby that I could cradle between my hand and elbow, who could imagine the man you have now become? It was easy to see, even in those early years, that you were far different from your brother, in personality and in style of learning. Your inquisitive, hands on, way of learning showed from taking apart the bathroom faucet to the hosts of lizards and other slithering things you frequently captured. Learning from doing was always far easier for you than the struggles you've had with book learning. In our years of itinerate travel you always seemed to be able to make friends easily, of your own age, but also of teens and adults. The most common description we overheard was "Barry is that cute blond-headed kid!" While you lamented for years about being so small, again who could imagine how tall you have grown? As our "screamer" who didn't tolerate pain, you combined that with a propensity for finding accidents. Many incidents stand out, from the relatively minor to the major. With only one volume of cry, the sound was never enough to know the severity. Getting your head hit by a ceiling fan or your leg gashed on an old car wreck all sounded alike. And who can forget the unexpected effects of the anesthesia on you while trying to get your leg stitched. "I feel soooo good!" Way too many times I carried you to a nurse or doctor, as I did the day you got your foot caught in the bumper boat propeller. As you began your teen years you gave us another scare, far more than all these physical things, as you struggled with who you were called to be. I learned a lot from that time, most of all to give you over to God. And it was to that purpose that I stood in your room as you slept and prayed for you. Seeing the answer to those prayers in the years that have followed has given me more joy that the pride I felt in having the privilege of baptizing you years before. I have enjoyed these last teen years of yours, perhaps more that all the others before, as I have seen you grow into a godly man, one of conviction and passion. Though you have stumbled and struggled by times, it is the increasing fruit of God's spirit that assures me you are growing in Him. I will continue to treasure the Biblical discussions and debates that have so often filled an hour or an evening, and hope that the years will give us many opportunities for more. With this milestone, and a future full of possibilities, never lose your passion for God and for life. Use the gifts and skills God has given you, for His glory, in whatever avenue He leads. In the calling to ministry you have expressed, remember that God will use you in your weaknesses as much as, and perhaps even more than, in your strengths. Don't let life get in the way of the best things. You will never regret the time you spend in God's word and with His people - and most of all, if God so blesses, with your wife and children. Life will continue to be subject to change on short notice, so always make the most of it! Know this, because I don't say it enough, I have loved you from the time you were that fragile bundle in that hospital incubator, and I will continue to love you and be proud of you even though time and circumstances may take us far apart. Serve the Lord with all your heart. Love, Dad