Kirsten is moving in today to her dorm room at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. She has been counting the days and is very excited to be at this point in her life. Chaz is able to be with her today and part of tomorrow to help her settle in and take care of details, like finances, books, loading, carrying… She’s had a great summer and is now facing the challenge of college life. Her grandfather had these words to share in the bulletin at his church:
“Tomorrow my oldest son will carry out a task I performed 26 years ago. He will cram his firstborn’s belongings into a car and drive her to a college campus, and help her move into a dorm room she will share with someone she will meet for the first time. After her stuff is in the room, the bed made up, and the clothes closeted, he’ll linger over saying goodbye, maybe shed a tear or two, and then finally hug her close, bid her goodbye and drive away with a lump in his throat.
“He has journeyed far to carry out this parental duty, having come to Michigan from Panama to do so. The situation he faces differs from mine of long ago in some respects. For one thing his daughter has a lot more stuff to move in than mine did. No one had computers in 1979, or CD collections, iPods, and cell phones, and most people had far fewer “necessities” to haul around. I took my daughter to a small liberal arts college 300 miles from home; he’s taking his to a mega-university in Ann Arbor 3,000 miles from home in Panama. There was no shortage of things for a father of a daughter to worry himself about back then; now greater terrors have multiplied and compounded.
“Some things don’t change. Kathy and I struggled to pay for Anne’s education — her National Merit Scholarship was more honorary than monetary. Chaz and Helga face a comparable challenge for Kirsten. I shudder to think what the bill just for books will be. Or how much more tuition will be next year and the one after that.
“The hard part — then and now — is saying goodbye and then letting go. Last summer a robin family nested just outside our dining room window. We had front row seats on an amazing sight: the rearing of two broods of baby robins. We saw eggs split from inside, gawky, skinny chicks emerge, and in a matter of days young robins leap into space and wing away to their own uncertain life.
“I wasn’t, and I’m guessing Chaz isn’t as ready for the leap from the nest which robins take in stride, for losing close contact and control, for letting go. Yet it’s one of those “necessary losses” that Judith Viorst wrote about in her book of that name. Maturity for both child and parent requires that we loosen and even snip the strings.
“Leave-taking takes faith, trust in the Lord, trust in the hard work of parenting you’ve done, and trust in your child. My first wife’s father fussed about his three daughters and expressed his anxieties about them to his brother-in-law. Uncle Carl replied, with the Danish accent he never quite lost, “Artur, you got to trust in d’ Lort.”
“And so we do, or try to do. In the words of our New Testament reading today, we “continue steadfast in prayer” for all whom we love and have given leave to find their way in the world.”

Off they go!