Jacob and Carissa eloped in July, surrounded by their amazing group of close friends on the shores of Lake Michigan. James and I were fortunate enough to get to see the very newly wed couple the following day on their trip back to Chicago. During a more recent visit home, however, we were able to celebrate the union with a few more members of the extended family. In honor of the occasion, I gave the following toast:

I would like to propose a toast.  In honor of Jacob and Carissa’s wedding, I would like to toast the union of Jacob and Carissa.  But, for a brief moment, I would like to speak mostly to Carissa, my new daughter. 

Carissa, when I was pregnant with Jacob, I saw a poem displayed at a friend’s home and it spoke to me so deeply that I decided to use it on his birth announcements.  The poem, by Anita Robertson, read:

When God wants something great done in this world, He doesn’t dispatch a legion of avenging angels; neither does he call forth whirlwind, nor ignite a fuse of volcanic fireworks. No commandeering of troops into battle nor discharging zealous crusaders to holy causes. He does not orchestrate the burst and boom of thunder, nor display His fiery arrows’ majesty across the sky to bring His purpose to pass. When God wants something great done in this world, He sends a baby. And then.. He waits. 

-Anita Robertson

The truth is, we didn’t have to wait long to see the greatness in Jacob.  Within his first year of life, he captured the hearts of all who met him.  The beautiful blonde curls sure didn’t hinder that process, but he was full of smiles and laughter and love for all.  By two, we could see the start to his future passion for computers and electronics, although we didn’t necessarily know it then.  Papa had no idea when he gave us the 5-disc CD turntable that the audio cable would be the most prized accoutrement.  Jacob had it “plugged” into the couch cushions almost immediately and was “vacuuming” everything around. At three, he became fluent in his first language: Martian.  By four, he could read “The Cat in the Hat” forwards and backwards and at six he was so bored in kindergarten that we had to have a special conference with his teacher so I could help her help him.

As a child, he was forever building things:  “contraptions” out of recyclables, Star Wars X-Wings out of K’Nex, the next space station in his loft.  He once built a fort in the living room and then proclaimed to me that the space was missing that, “Je ne sais quois.” There were no limits to his imagination, his creativity and his persistence (or his vocabulary). It was fourth grade, however, when his teacher shared with me at conferences that Jacob was laughing at other students when they offered an answer in class.  When I questioned Jacob about it later, he had no idea that people could be that wrong without intentionally doing so and thought the kids were purposefully being funny.  I didn’t know it then, but it wouldn’t be long before Jacob was (thankfully) able to participate in classes with students who shared his level of thinking.  When he violated a house rule (which was never more at this stage than watching TV when he was supposed to be doing schoolwork, or leaving his trumpet at school unattended) I had to take away his books as that was the only thing that caused him any kind of hardship.  And without a doubt, taking away reading broke my heart more than it ever broke his.  

When we moved to Michigan, his independence and self-reliance was never more obvious.  He didn’t want me to accompany him into the new middle school he had never even seen before; a decision I regretted acquiescing to the moment I drove away.  But it was there that he met Nick, a friend even now, and together they navigated the difficult pre-teen years.  Jacob continued to shine in middle school, taking advantage of Millwood’s focus on technology and creating videos and animations that I can still easily recall.  His academics also continued to flourish and by seventh grade he was taking high school math classes at Western.  The last-minute trebuchet builds should have been a signal to me that even if he was doing advanced academic work, the common sense was no more than any other teenager, which is simply to say, not a lot.  (Don’t worry, kiddo, I’ve ‘been there, done that’.  Just ask Papa about the scaled drawing of our house plan.)

High school continued to highlight Jacob’s passions and talents.  KAMSC gave Jacob a place to grow among other like-minded students and prepared him well for his college years. Looking back at those years, perhaps we should write Jacob’s freshman KAMSC teacher a letter so he knows Jacob has put his hacking abilities to much better use now!  While he was academically soaring above his years, he did have a hiccup or two getting his driver’s license.  Running over the curb for all of the people in Secretary of State to see, and the fact that we got away with just being flipped off after cutting off a driver in downtown Kalamazoo, left a bit of learning to be desired, but that too, came with practice.  Fall Saturdays make me miss band competitions and I will always fondly remember murder mystery dinners and sleepover with his friends. James, however, does NOT miss the group recitation of the opening sequences of each film during Star Wars Movie Marathon nights, at least not the recitations that occurred at nine o’clock, midnight and three am!   

By the time Jacob left for State, his second-choice college that proved to be nothing less than absolutely ideal, he had not only met you, Carissa, but had started dating you.  From there, there was no looking back.  Not only did Jacob continue to amaze us with all the opportunities and learning and advanced work he took advantage of at State, but he brought home a girl who helped bridge our farm way of life to our dirt-avoiding child.  You jumped right into our family with both feet, participating very early on in a memorable round of tequila shots; breaking dinner plates on the brick wall; vehemently swearing at James during Euchre games and winning our hearts from the backseat when you quietly inquired, “Is this Randy Travis?!”

Carissa, Jacob is my pride and so very very much of my joy.  He is the greatest thing I will ever hope to accomplish in this life.  He has single-handedly taught me more about myself, about life, about relationships, about purpose than any textbook or philosophy or self-help book ever could.  To say I am proud of him is the greatest understatement ever uttered.  And absolutely nothing in this life makes me happier than knowing that he, the child I created and raised, is something my dad is very proud of as well.  

Which brings me the long-winded way around to the point of my toast.  Carissa, Jacob is the child I raised.  From the moment I knew I was pregnant all the way through this exact moment and well beyond, I have loved him unconditionally.  Even when we were neck deep in the Year of the Death Glare, I loved him.  All the love, all the worry, all the sacrifices, all the stress, all the laughter, all the learning, all the forgiveness, all the tears, all the raising that Jacob and I did – together, it was for this moment, for this new union, for this next chapter in life.  Carissa, I raised Jacob, the boy, I raised him and loved him and taught him and learned from him, but I raised the boy so that you, one day, this day, might get to love the man.  

I wish you both a lifetime of love – even when it’s hard, even when the Death Glare accidentally returns; even when his own self-reliance leaves you feeling redundant; even when his calm, rational way of arguing makes you want to scream and throw things – even then, I wish you love.  Love that carries you through, love that carries you over, love that just carries you from one stage in life to the next. 

Let’s all raise our glasses to Jacob and Carissa – I have nothing but love for you both, especially for my boy who stands here today a man already proving he is capable of great things and is only headed towards more.  May you, Jacob and Carissa, blaze a trail of greatness together.