That Day is Here

Years ago I served on the pastoral staff at Immanuel Baptist Church in Richmond, Virginia.  During that season of our lives (1991-1994), something happened that I have never forgotten and have been thinking about a lot the last few days.

I was walking from the church secretary's office to my office, when I passed by the senior pastor and another associate pastor who were engaged in conversation.  The senior pastor had just returned from taking his daughter, his oldest child, to college.  As I walked by these fellow pastors, I heard the associate pastor ask, "So how was it, dropping her off?"  The senior pastor responded, "Alana [his daughter] did pretty well.  But it was tougher on me than I expected.  I couldn't keep back the tears."  

When I heard him say that, I remarked, "Man, I don't want to hear this!  My daughter is still in diapers!"  It was at that point that my pastor looked me square in the eye and said with dead-seriousness, "My daughter was in diapers yesterday.  Your daughter will be gone before you know it."  The way he said that, and the way he looked at me as he said it - I knew he was dead right.  I knew the day of my daughter's departure would come all too quickly.

That day is here.  It is a day of mixed emotions, to say the least.  It is a day of celebration, knowing that Megan is about to enter a marvelous new phase of her life.  God has wired her for this.  "To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven" (Eccl. 3:1).  Megan has blossomed into a beautiful young lady, and her parents rejoice in that.  

Yet this day is also one of sadness for us.  It will be difficult having one less chair around the dinner table.  It won't be easy seeing so much of Megan's stuff gone.  I will miss praying over her with the rest of the children each night before bed.  Ruthie especially will miss the companionship of the only other female in our household.  (Boys can be so, well, unladylike!)  Megan's daily presence has added so much wholesomeness (and humor) to our household.  Life in the Fletcher household simply won't be the same without her.  So, yes, our celebration is mixed with a measure of sadness.

As I look back on my years with Megan, I see many imperfections in my parenting.  The only perfect father Megan has ever had, without question, is her heavenly Father.  I hope that despite my failures and shortcomings I have pointed her to Him, and I pray that she will seek the Lord all the days of her life.  No matter where she goes, she has a Friend who sticks closer than a brother - one who will never leave her nor forsake her (Heb. 13:5).

Gracious heavenly Father, watch over our daughter.  The fact is, You love Megan far more than we do (as hard as that is to comprehend), and You alone have the power to "preserve [her] going out and [her] coming in from this time forth, and even forevermore" (Psalm 121:8).  Please do so, O God, and may Megan walk worth of the gospel; may her life bring You glory.

Even as I wrote this brief prayer, my phone rang.  It was Megan, asking me where I am.  She says, "It's time to go."  Yes, it is.