Please Don't Be Like Me

Dear Malcolm,

“Please don’t be like me,” I said descending the steps of Andrew Gerow Hodges Chapel at Beeson Divinity School.  I had just parted with one of the worst papers I have yet to scribe due to either my consternation or my procrastination—likely a mixture of both—and this dictum was fresh on my cranial lobe.  It seems as though I put myself into this position time and time again and these photo finishes are not the ones you will want to see in your own highlight reel.  My lowlights are littered with a collage of such images and it is not becoming.  It is frustrating for your mother beyond degree and for me in order to get one.  It robs you of real rest, gives you undue stress, and leaves others as those staring at black screens on a holiday weekend only to see “delayed.” 

“Please don’t be like me,” part wish, part command.  Part of me that needs to be wrested from my confines and part of you, for your own sake, you never have to see.  Maybe we can work together on this; I’m sure your mother will appreciate it.

Love,

Dad

You Are A...

Dear Malcolm,

Well, it has been awhile since your dad has written you a letter, but that does not mean that I have not been thinking of you.  I am almost finished with my penultimate semester of seminary and things are looking good (presuming I can write a mildly decent Hebrew exegesis paper).  All said, this has been a busy semester and seems to have flown by faster than the rest.  Maybe that is because we are in eager anticipation of your arrival April 24^th-ish.

We found out yesterday that you are indeed a Malcolm and not a Malcolmette.  Translation: You’re a Boy!!  If by the time you are able to read this you are finally figuring out that you are a boy then it has just been affirmed that I am a terrible father and obviously know even less about parenting than I thought.  You currently weigh about 14oz. and, according to the doctor, you are growing just fine.  Your organs are developing normally and we were able to see both of your hands and both of your feet yesterday.  Oh yeah, and we saw your face and I must admit that the biasness of thinking my son is the best looking boy on the planet has already begun.

So here is our reaction to the first time we saw your face.  We’ll see you again in April.

Love,

Dad