A Little Bit of Hogwarts

Early on, when our daughter Claire first got into the Harry Potter series, she asked (in devout seriousness) if she'd be getting an invitation to Hogwarts on her eleventh birthday.  She couldn't wait.  The idea of an owl arriving that day, depositing a formal letter on our door step!  It was everything she could possible want.  And more.  Hogwarts had to be heaven on earth.

By the time she actually turned eleven, Hogwarts was no less important, though much less realistic as a educational opportunity.  She turned to other things: acting in plays, finding really loud music, diving deep into astronomy and (of course) the internet.

Dining Hall, Yale University, New Haven, CT

Suddenly, she was seventeen and a half, celebrating her acceptance at Yale University, anticipating a whole new chapter, contemplating a career in astrophysics.  And this week, we dropped her off in New Haven for a week of hiking and meeting new friends.  

As she begins and we leave town, I realize that I never got around to teaching her the potions, or the magic, or the wand work she'll need to negotiate these four wonderful, wacky and challenging years!  How will she fare in the wilderness of college relationships?  What about those dark nights of the soul?  Will she know how to listen for the still small voice that says "go" or "stay"?

So--I have to let her go now.  Without magic.  Without easy answers.

What's a father to do?

Each night this week, and each night moving forward, I fall to my knees in prayer.  For now, that's what I do.  Over the past decade, I've wrestled with intercessory prayer: what it means, what it does, which words make sense.  I've devoted much more of my time and energies to meditation--silent, centering practices that welcome the divinity of the present moment and let it go again.

But this week, throwing caution to the wind, I'm committing myself to a nightly prayer for my three daughters.  I pray God's grace, blessing and joy be upon them.  I pray their hearts might open widely to wonder and love, curiosity and courage.  They're on their own paths now.  Claire's in a whole new time zone now.  I'm long past the point of thinking my practice determines their future, or that my petitions manipulate their choices.  I'm pretty sure my little prayers won't protect them from heartbreak and cancer, either.  I don't think the world works that way. 

Claire, Fiona & Hannah with cousins in Maine

But I still believe prayer matters.  Somehow.  And my prayer is my testimony to how much love matters in my life and how deeply I trust God with the important stuff.  They get to make their own choices.  And I trust God to watch over them in grace.

Most importantly, I guess, I trust God to keep my heart true and strong.  I ask God to make me a good father to these growing young women, a loving one, a funny one, a trustworthy one.  I'm thinking that that's a prayer God will keep.  I hope so.

By the way, Yale looks just a bit like Hogwarts, no?