Superman Has Left the House

 For today's blog post I am bringing back one of the most requested reprintings of an article I wrote for the St. Paul UCC, Lebanon, newsletter, 'The Caller', in 2002. The picture here was not included then, but is courtesy of Pixabay Free Photos and just seemed appropriate. This article is being revisited today to set the stage for an upcoming blog post which just seems, in my heart, to need this prequel told. I hope you find this story something to ponder on your journey:

Superman has left the house.

We took Raymond to the University of Kansas last Sunday and helped him move into his new room. Six round trips of about a quarter mile each way to bring all of his earthly possessions to the dorm, then up five flights of stairs with each load, joining with about a thousand other students and their parents (just in his dorm building) to set up a new way of life uniquely designed to last only nine months. Somehow, there must be a correlation between the nine months of pregnancy and the nine months of the school year, but right now I’m just too tired to think about it.

We were ready to make this trip, after all it is the school of Raymond’s choosing. It is his dream, his ambition to play basketball for the KU Jayhawks and to get a quality Division I College education . . . so, Nancy and he sorted for weeks through a lifetime of accumulation and storage to cull it all down to what would fit in our Explorer for the trip to Lawrence, Kansas. Necessities were determined, addresses were changed and people were notified, a computer was purchased, a telephone plan was laid out, and a transition was made ready. We left on Saturday afternoon for the five and a half hour journey so that we would be fresh for the move-in on Sunday morning.

Tearful good-byes and good-lucks were exchanged between Raymond and a multitude of relatives, friends and well-wishers, and promises were made on every front to ‘keep in touch’ or, as in the case of his big brother, requests were made for tickets to KU basketball games (There’s nothing like a Rock Chalk Jayhawk Basketball game!). But, just the same, I knew I was ready to ‘drop him off’ and ‘clear another one out of the house’ and had told an unknown number of people exactly that . . . and was ready to do so as though it wouldn’t make any major difference in my life until that moment in the Explorer when he asked me for the fobs off of his key chain.

You see, Raymond has been driving the Explorer pretty regularly and one of the Explorer key chains was his to use. Raymond had placed two Superman key chain fobs on his key chain and everyone in the house knew that was ‘his’ set of keys. Knowing that we were not leaving the Explorer in Kansas for him to use, Ray turned to me while we were driving down a Lawrence, Kansas street and said, “Since you are taking the Explorer home, why don’t you give me my Superman fobs for my key ring here at Kansas.” And, don’t ask me why but, with those few words it suddenly hit me, Superman has left the house and Metropolis will never be the same.

This young man who grew up in three different towns in eighteen years, whose super-powers include impersonations, telling jokes that can make the dourest person laugh, caring more and deeper than a person his age should know how to, a passion for basketball that is matched only by his passion for the Christ of his faith, and a solid belief in family and love . . . this young man who may not be faster than a speeding bullet, nor mightier than a powerful locomotive, nor ever leap tall buildings in a single bound . . . this young man, like his older brother before him and his younger brother after him, has my heart. And, like every parent who loves their children, I believe he will make the world a better place to live, will be able to address the evils of our generation, and give men, women and children of every background a reason to hope and smile. This man of steel is human and may make his share of mistakes, but I know his heart is in the right place and his passion for Christ and others will see him through every crisis. He is our son and, though I hadn’t known it until that moment, to me he will always be Superman.

And Superman has left the house.

As Nancy and I drove the five and a half hour trip back to Lebanon, and as I struggled with this huge lump of parental joy and sadness in my throat, and as tears streamed from sunglass covered eyes, my thoughts turned to God . . . and to just how God does it with each one of us. I mean, think of it, God is the ultimate parent: God births every one of us into life, gives us roots to grow, space to spread out, a place to know we are safe, is always putting food on the table, is constantly encouraging us to follow our passion in faith, and assures us that, when we are ready, our wings will carry us swiftly and strongly onward. God knows the path will not be easy, that dreams are often shattered by the cruel fist of a reality that is mediated by others, and that the choices we make would not always be the choices God would make. Yet, God sets us up for success anyway and sends us forth in love and joy.

I wondered: as God drives away from the ‘dorm’ of our new journey, is it as hard on God as it was on us, to watch ‘Superman’ walk away across the heat soaked asphalt parking lot, a mere mortal preparing to engage in cosmic combat? Do the words that God hoped to say just before leaving get stuck in God’s throat the way mine did? Is God grateful for the opportunities that God’s children have, all the while secretly hoping that they will not wander out in those opportunities and forget they have a home to return to? Is it possible that God sets us up for success, freedom and self-reliance, all the while praying that we will know that we will never fully outgrow our need for God and God’s love and care? . . . . . . Just how hard was it to drop Jesus off in Bethlehem and watch him grow up to walk all the way to Jerusalem? And, if God has it this hard, what makes us think it should be any easier for us here today?

Maybe we should take our cues from the One who defines parenthood for every generation: Superman has left the house, but he will never leave the home of our hearts. Whether his journey takes him to the heavens above or the earth below, our love goes with him, above him, below him, around him and through him. Metropolis may never be the same again, but it will always be profoundly better for his having been with us for a while.

Fly high, be strong, strive for justice, truth and mercy, and know that we wait with the world in breathless anticipation of what God is yet to do in you, through you, and with you, Superman. 

“It’s a bird, it’s a plane . . .” it’s a child of God soaring to new heights. Be careful on your journeys, Superman, and know that, in the home of our hearts, you have a place and are loved always.