The following comes from a blog published on August 13, 2018

Tomorrow, we will be dropping off a baby on the doorstep of a University. Well, not exactly. My baby isn't a baby anymore. It has been true for a few years now; even in my mind's eye, I no longer have a baby or a child. Instead, I am proud of the young man that I call my son (this is a statement that I can speak in the plural; I am proud of the young men that I call my sons.) And tomorrow, about mid-day, Katie and I will drop Noah off at the University of Minnesota, Duluth.

As you can imagine, this is a time of transition for our family. It is a significant change that is filled mostly with excitement. Something that we have planned for and Noah has worked very hard towards achieving. No doubt, there will be tears that accompany us as we head away from campus. But these will be the tears of new beginnings. Salted with the apprehension of what's next, they are also rich with the minerals of possibilities. Dreams are in the process of forming as Noah leaves home. Already he is in the starting stages of imagining a career and a life beyond his family of origin. As his father, I can't wait to see what this talented, kind-hearted person decides to do. I am trying to be patient and not rush things. Still, it does not harm me to wonder.

Wonder and write. That is the creative work that I find myself engaged in during these days of transition. I am busy at work on a new daily, 5-minute inspiration series called Lighting Your Way, With Love. Within the context of Noah starting University, I am writing down a summary of the faith that has sustained, challenged, and allowed me to grow as a child of God. In forty short segments, I write about God, caring for the planet, dealing with fear/evil, loving neighbor, and honoring self. Though not an exhaustive systematic theology, these ideas come from the working theology that I've developed from over two decades of pastoral ministry and over four decades of living. I share this with my son as a way of offering him something spiritual to hold onto as he heads out. He is not a baby anymore, and neither is his faith. It is my prayer that over the coming years as his dreams come into greater focus so too will his faith. As we all do, he needs to grow, stretch, rest, and be restless in his belief. Faith is a dynamic aspect of life - it rises and falls, increases and declines, lives and dies and lives anew.

Though I'm writing to Noah, I'm also guessing that others might find my efforts of some use in their spiritual lives. It seems like we are all in some transition or another. When life shifts around us, it is good to return to our most basic and foundational values. It is helpful for us to ask: Who are we as God's created beings; how do we relate to others and the world God made?

As I ruminate on such matters, a ticking clock reminds me that a bunch of things beckons my attention before we drive tomorrow to Duluth. I got to go. More to come next week - stay tuned.

In Christ,
Walt