MOVE-IN DAY AT BAYLOR
Or, what it's like to leave your whole heart in a dorm room 1,705 miles away.
So yesterday, we moved our oldest, our son - with whom we are well-pleased - into his college dorm room at Baylor University.
Coincidentally, it was exactly two decades and nine years since I first moved into the third floor of Humbert Hall at DePauw University. This fact made me feel quite old. Among other things, it means that Dave Matthew’s Band’s breakout album Under the Table and Dreaming is about to turn 30 years old which is not possible. Also turning 30? The songs Loser by Beck, I Swear by All-4-One and Basket Case by Green Day, three songs that have never been on a list together except for that last sentence. Also, dear God, I’m old.
But this coincidence had a way of making me more than nostalgic, and also hopeful.
As a parent, one of my deep hopes is that my ceiling will be my children’s floor. And I was an idiot as an incoming freshman. I mean, just an *idiot.* Justus is way ahead of me in about 14 key metrics, thanks to so many people and friends and mentors.
ANTS MARCHING
Okay, that was another Dave Matthews Band reference. I still can’t get over that. 30 years? Anyway.
Another thing I couldn’t get over? The way Baylor handled move-in day for incoming freshmen. How good was it? The Dunkirk evacuation wishes it were this seamless.
Back when *I* moved into college, it was a madhouse of parents and siblings making trip after trip after trip up crowded stairs to their kid’s new room. Hey, that green striped comforter set from JC Penny, that dual-tape deck Sony Boom Box and those boxes of CDs from BMG and Columbia House weren’t going to carry themselves, people.
This is *not* how Baylor University does it.
We were given explicit instructions on how to enter the campus and which route to take. A (marked in red), B (marked in blue), C (marked in yellow) or D (marked in green).
We were also given a move-in time of 10:20am and a big sign we had to print out and put on our dashboard that prominently displayed our route number (C) and dorm (South Russell) and the time (10:20am).
When we entered the campus, there were campus police directing us, checking our sign to make sure we were in the right place. We circled the campus, following the line of “C” cars.
We passed by a field, covered with students holding flutes and trumpets and such. I quickly deduced it was the Baylor Marching Band. They were practicing, but also sorta welcoming us. Sidenote: there really is nothing like that rat-a-tat-tat-tat of the snare drum lines of college marching bands.
We finally pulled up to a line of cars directly in front of the South Russell Dorm, and I saw the front steps teeming with students, all wearing tan Baylor shirts that said “Move-in Crew.”
It was a massive swarm of upperclassmen - maybe 60 or 80 kids - all who descended upon each car or van or truck as it reached the front steps of the dorm. Parents popped open the doors of the car and this swarm grabbed every single box or bag or item (each of which you’ve been told to clearly label with your students name, dorm and room number).
This mass of students emptied each vehicle in seconds, like a NASCAR pit crew of thieves. And like a line of tan ants, they carry everything up one, two, three flights of stairs and put it directly in each student’s room.
Some of the students had mini-bluetooth-speakers affixed to them, playing Michael Jackson and The Weekend to provide portable jams for the workers, like the drummers and the flute player who marched ahead of the armies in the Civil War.
The way you make me feel
(The way you make me feel)
Head on up those stairs
(Head on up those stairs)
Until each box is gone
(Until each box is gone)
Chick-a-ooo!
We had packed Justus’ Toyota Camry to the brim with all his stuff, and he and I drove that out to Texas so he could have his car. We picked up Nicole at the Dallas airport, and on the day of the move, I drove her Uncle Todd’s Honda Pilot, and Nicole rode down with Justus for some last-minute time with her boy.
I swear to you, they popped the trunk of the Camry and no sooner had I opened my door than the car was empty.
Gonna be honest. Move-in day was easy.
“Why, I hardly broke a sweat!” I said out loud.
Never.
Never in my life have I been so wrong.
AUGUST IN TEXAS
Okay, so first off, Nicole and I *thought* that Baylor University was located in Texas. But apparently, the campus is *actually* located on the SURFACE OF THE SUN.
It was 109° yesterday, which - unless your job is making sure the racks of fresh pizza dough rise - is just an unacceptable temperature.
I imagine you think I am exaggerating. That’s fair. I do exaggerate. But here is Justus and his roommate Paul to prove I am not.
That kind of searing heat makes teary-eyed goodbyes a little easier, mainly due to the fact that your body will not tear up at that temperature. It will hold every drop of liquid with biological fanaticism.
“You want us to cry? In this heat? Oh hell naw.”
– The Human Body
You guys. It was so hot. So. So. Hot.
How hot was it?
It was so hot, Nelly just said “I was like, good gracious” and then died.
It was so hot, my childhood idol Optimus Prime could have shown up in the FLESH – or in the ROBOT or whatever – and I would have said, “Cool, hey, yeah, Optimus, listen can you transform into an air conditioning unit?”
It was so hot, it felt like God was using a hair dryer to blow dry the campus. No! That would have felt *refreshing* in comparison. No. It felt like God had just gotten a new air fryer from Kohl’s and wanted to try it out on Baylor.
I hope you like your Kohl’s cash, Yahweh.
After moving Justus in, and then walking around campus that afternoon for various welcome activities and family day festivities, I could have *wrung out* my wick-away lightweight golf shorts. I easily drank a half gallon of water from Baylor’s hydrating stations. I didn’t pee once. You didn’t need to know that information, but I wanted you to know. That’s how hot it was.
It was so hot, I would have willingly crawled into the Baylor Bear enclosure – where they keep the live black bear mascots – if there were a cold swimming pool in there. At some point, you’re just so hot you don’t care if you get Revenant’d.
This was not Baylor’s fault. Baylor was trying. They had a lovely farewell picnic for the families to eat together one last time. But man, it was too hot. People hung to the shade like they were vampires.
NOTE: Shown here, the masses of incoming freshmen and their families getting food for the Baylor Family Picnic. Not shown here: how miserable everyone was.
The President of Baylor, Dr. Linda Livingstone and others talked. The welcomed all the incoming freshman and their parents. There was something about vision. It was very nice, I am sure, but I kept pouring water over my head.
I thought back to earlier in the day. When we pulled up to the dorms to begin unloading, one of the seasoned Baylor staff knowingly asked Nicole how she was doing.
“How you doing, Mama Bear?” she asked.
“I am doing okay, but am a little teary,” Nicole said.
“Well, just a quick bit of advice,” she said. “Maybe try to get into a little bitty fight today. Not a big one. Just a little tiff. Makes leaving easier.”
I realized Nicole and I didn’t need a minor fight to help with the separation. The heat was doing that.
PIC: You don’t understand how hot I was in this picture. Also, how moist. Again. Not a visual you needed, but one you got.
It’s then I realized a fundamental truth: standing outside in 109° heat makes you willing to leave ANYONE ANYWHERE at ANY TIME.
Saying goodbye in 109° heat is like saying goodbye with a freshly broken clavicle.
Yes yes yes. Miss you. Goodbye. I need to deal with this please and thank you.
Saying goodbye in 109° heat is like saying goodbye with a horrible case of the stomach flu as diarrhea runs down the inside of your pant leg.
Yes yes yes. Miss you. Goodbye. I need to deal with this please and thank you.
I don’t care if I were transported back to 1980, and I got a chance to sit around a table with Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford as they debriefed – for the very first time – their experience filming The Empire Strikes Back. If it were 109°, I’d say, “Would love to stay, Han, Luke, Leia, but this heat is some nonsense.”
ONE LAST CRY
But as miserable as I was, I wasn’t about to leave my son without at least attempting a proper goodbye. We decided to ditch the presentation, as great as it was, to go back to the dorm where there was air conditioning.
As we walked back, I read the prayer cards that the University Chaplain had printed out for parents to pray over their kids, if they wanted to. I picked one up from the tables.
I thought about all the times I’d put my son to bed, back when he was so small, I could lay beside him on my side as he held my arm and asked me to tell him stories, from far-off places, about warriors and heroes and villains.
I was always careful to tell him, each night, “I am so glad that God made you my son, and that I get to be your Daddy.”
When I was a new parent, one of my friends (shout out to Jonathan Ziman) gave me a stack of bedtime prayers printed out on 3x5 cards. He did this because I admitted to him that I had no idea how to be a Dad who brought Jesus and God and the Bible into parenting. I had no idea how to be a dad, let alone how to pray with a kid. One of the cards said something like that sentence above. I liked it, because it reminded Justus that I loved being his Dad, and reminded me that this relationship was sacred, and chosen by God Himself.
I read the first line of the card.
“We are thankful and will be forever grateful for your presence in our lives.”
That’s all I could make it through before I started ugly crying. People around me were probably quite confused. “Man. That guy was really moved by President Livingstone’s announcement about the renovation of the women’s dorms.”
As we walked, Nicole grabbed my arm, to comfort me. Then, she quickly pulled it away. Because she loves me but it was 109° and that is far too hot for any sort of touching.
We got back into the sweet reprieve of the AC of Justus’ dorm room. Nicole nestled one more time under Justus’ giant wing for a mama hug. She said mama things to her boy, tears welling up in her eyes.
I grabbed my son’s shoulders and prayed for him.
When I graduated from high school, our high school’s Acapella choir - of which I was a part - performed a song of blessing. The lyrics were the words of an Old Irish Blessing, which is an ancient Celtic Prayer, and a bit of a take on the Aaronic Priestly Blessing from Numbers 6. For some reason, all week, as Justus and I traveled cross-country together, I kept thinking about it. So I prayed it over him, my voice cracking:
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields
and until we meet again,
may God
may God
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
And with that, Nicole and I left our boy - who has been the joy of our lives - at college where he will grow and flourish and discover his place in this world and his unique calling. To quote Frederick Beuchner, he’ll find “where his great passions meet the world’s great needs.”
We are so happy and thrilled for him. And we could not be more pleased or confident in an environment for him to learn and grow, not just academically and socially, but spiritually. He’ll have a blast.
But man, will I miss him.
And as we walked to our car, my wife reached for my hand.
I looked at her. I know we should be giving each other high-fives and toasting each other with industrial-strength margaritas for our incredible parenting. Our boy is on his way! So exciting. But right now, we’re being a little self-absorbed, and the only thing we’re thinking about is just how much we’re going to miss his daily presence in our home.
Tomorrow, perhaps, this will change, and there will only be joy at this new season.
But today, we are sad.
I took my wife’s hand.
She let go.
"Yeah, it’s still too hot,” she said.
Because it was still 109°
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*Shout out 1: Thanks to my wife’s extended family in the Dallas area, especially her uncles, Tim and Todd, her cousin Danielle and Tim’s wife Sally. (Also, Cousins Jeremy, Cathy and Elizabeth!). You guys model what it means to be family, and wow, your kindness and willingness to help us was something else.
**Shout out 2: Thanks to all of you who have reached out. You guys know I’m super close to Justus, and I’m a little emotional, so this has been a tough transition for me. Thanks for your advice, your prayers and your kind words of support.