First-Year Student Journals : Matthew : Journal 9

17 February 2003

Every Friday at 4:15 p.m., a group of guys from my church and I dig a little deeper into a book, “Wild at Heart” by John Eldredge, about a man rediscovering his heart. As we take the book chapter by chapter, I learn a little more about myself. Just finishing Chapter 2: “The Wild One Whose Image We Bear,” I had a chance to reflect on some childhood memories of my dad.

In most of my Web journals, I have written about how I am doing and how much I have grown in college, but I’ve failed to honor my parents for all they have taught me, everything they have done for me and every way they have encouraged and supported me to be the man I am. So, in recounting some memories of the past and in revealing a few examples of their amazing hearts, this journal is dedicated to my mom and dad.

In elementary school, almost everyday my sisters and I would anxiously wait for my dad to come home from work. Knowing what time he would arrive, we would hide under the table and around the door he was going to enter. He drove up the driveway, and the shuddering kitchen window signaled our silence. We waited with grins while my mom gladly watched us. Finally, he came in. We yelled and surprised him and smothered him with our hugs. Day after day, my mom and dad would make us feel like we surprised him each time.

Last year, after I heard back from all four colleges I applied to, it was time to decide. Truly wanting to get as far away as possible, the University of California in Berkeley sounded really nice to me. I know that my family wanted me to stay here in Texas, but a part of me did not want to be so close to home. The discussion of where I was going to college often came up at the dinner table, and I realized more and more of my parents’ desire for me to stay close to home. But despite their desires and opinions, they told me they would pay for a plane ride to Berkeley to see the campus if I wanted to. I was shocked. They honored me so much in offering to sacrifice their money and desires for my happiness. I ended up not visiting Berkeley, realizing that Austin was far enough from Houston, yet close enough to see my family whenever I desired.

There is a huge gap of time that was filled with many, many more memories just like these. I do not have enough time or writing space to convey every display of affection I have received and continue to obtain from my parents. I’m sure that I am unaware of half of the actions of love they have made for my sisters and me.

Mom and Baba, in my faltered words and inadequacy to describe how much you mean to me, thank you for your unending love, your unyielding support and your endless sacrifices for me. You have truly blessed me, and I am so thankful that whenever I talk about you to my friends, I always cannot help but smile.

If you enjoyed this journal and you know my parents, please tell them. Please send me an e-mail message if you have any comments or questions.



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	17 February 2003 Every Friday at 4:15 p.m., a group of guys from my church and I dig a little deeper into a book, “Wild at Heart” by John Eldredge, about a man rediscovering his heart. As we take the book chapter by chapter, I learn a little more about myself. Just finishing Chapter 2: “The Wild One Whose Image We Bear,” I had a chance to reflect on some childhood memories of my dad. In most of my Web journals, I have written about how I am doing and how much I have grown in college, but I’ve failed to honor my parents for all they have taught me, everything they have done for me and every way they have encouraged and supported me to be the man I am. So, in recounting some memories of the past and in revealing a few examples of their amazing hearts, this journal is dedicated to my mom and dad. In elementary school, almost everyday my sisters and I would anxiously wait for my dad to come home from work. Knowing what time he would arrive, we would hide under the table and around the door he was going to enter. He drove up the driveway, and the shuddering kitchen window signaled our silence. We waited with grins while my mom gladly watched us. Finally, he came in. We yelled and surprised him and smothered him with our hugs. Day after day, my mom and dad would make us feel like we surprised him each time. Last year, after I heard back from all four colleges I applied to, it was time to decide. Truly wanting to get as far away as possible, the University of California in Berkeley sounded really nice to me. I know that my family wanted me to stay here in Texas, but a part of me did not want to be so close to home. The discussion of where I was going to college often came up at the dinner table, and I realized more and more of my parents’ desire for me to stay close to home. But despite their desires and opinions, they told me they would pay for a plane ride to Berkeley to see the campus if I wanted to. I was shocked. They honored me so much in offering to sacrifice their money and desires for my happiness. I ended up not visiting Berkeley, realizing that Austin was far enough from Houston, yet close enough to see my family whenever I desired. There is a huge gap of time that was filled with many, many more memories just like these. I do not have enough time or writing space to convey every display of affection I have received and continue to obtain from my parents. I’m sure that I am unaware of half of the actions of love they have made for my sisters and me. Mom and Baba, in my faltered words and inadequacy to describe how much you mean to me, thank you for your unending love, your unyielding support and your endless sacrifices for me. You have truly blessed me, and I am so thankful that whenever I talk about you to my friends, I always cannot help but smile. If you enjoyed this journal and you know my parents, please tell them. Please send me an e-mail message if you have any comments or questions.