From a Parent to a Child
I cannot buy you a set of morals; I cannot build you a sense of responsibility; I cannot hand you appreciation of beauty; I cannot manufacture for you concern and compassion; I cannot make yours a compelling, faithful, loyal spirit; I cannot give you the ability to love.
I have no fortune to will you with which to gain popularity; make you a philanthropist; or help you leave memorials for charity.
I own no secret formula for success or any new philosophy. I’ve never written a book of wisdom.
I cannot send you away into the world on your own with only beautiful pictures in your memory, for you have seen me cry faithless tears of despair; you have seen me shake my fist in anger; you have witnessed ugliness in my time of weakness.
These things which I cannot give you are all yours in Christ Jesus.
As you leave your home, you step into new relations with parents, friends, and the world. The ‘apron strings’ that have been lengthened as you matured must soon be cut. You have earned more than freedom from high school. You have proven yourself trustworthy, dependable, and mature enough to try your own wings, but I will be ‘on call’ throughout my life.
You are fully accountable to God, your heavenly Father who loves you far more than I, who has riches in store beyond your comprehension, but who expects much, punishes, sees and knows—also beyond your comprehension.
I commit you to His care as the fire of the world tests the gold of your character —but I will be always in prayer.