This past week at a church meeting, we began discussing ways to connect with some of the younger folks all around us. One member said that she had participated in a program in the church where kids were paired with adults and "adopted" by them. It became a relationship of nurturing and care between generations of people in the church. This woman said that she had sat her child down and explained that, like it or not, he was hers now.
Let me be clear, no actual legal adoptions were occurring. Rather, this woman had decided to enter into a relationship with this young person in a way that made it clear that they were forevermore inextricably linked to one another. In fact, it's called a covenant. They declared to one another that due to this relationship, you matter to me and always will.
Two days later, I found out that a beloved senior student at my university passed away very suddenly. This was a student with whom I felt the same connection to as discussed in our church meeting. It turns out, I didn't realize I felt that way until I heard of his passing.
I was the supervisor of his residence hall his first year at school. I taught his freshman seminar course. I, quite literally, saw him on his first day of college.
When others thought he was too different, he confided in me and we brainstormed ways to relate to his peers.
When he felt homesick and couldn't process the emotions associated with that, he talked to me. Granted, it was about the perfectly arranged collectables on his windowsill but, at the same time, it wasn't about that at all.
I watched as this scared young man became a vital part of the University's community. I watched, and silently cheered, as he took on challenge after challenge and far surpassed them. I watched as slowly, almost imperceptibly, he changed from "that guy" to "our guy."
The community adopted him and he adopted us too. He connected with many of us and made it a point to speak to us frequently. He made us laugh and he made us frustrated. He pushed our thinking and he pushed our buttons. He lived an inquisitive and energetic life diving right into anything put in front of him. He danced and sang even though he didn't have any great skill in either. He joked and laughed even though it wasn't always appropriate. He learned and grew even when others said he couldn't.
He was ours.
