The President's Reception

I first met John at Pearce Memorial Church before he was the President of Roberts and Northeastern. He is a tall, serious man, well disciplined, personable and focused. I know his wife better since I have taken Bible studies with her. She, like me, has lost a child and I connect with her on many levels. She worked at Pearce in the office when I was working with the choirs there.

They had invited the students, staff and faculty of Northeastern Seminary to their home for a holiday reception. I have been to the presidential house on a few occasions, always appreciating the spacious architecture and the historic pictures of the founding fathers and mothers. I strapped on my ergonomic backpack and headed down the hill towards Buffalo Road as soon as work was done. Several of my classmates were knocking at the door as I crossed the busy road and ascended the steep hill of the mansion. John himself greeted us at the door and took our coats.

Catherine helped us with name tags and introductions. They must do a great deal of entertaining, and they are the consummate hosts. We were invited to fill a plate with a sandwich, some raw veggies and a generous piece of delicious pumpkin roll that the dining commons is well known for. Pungent moist pumpkin bread wrapped around a delicate cream cheese filling and decorated with whipped cream and spices. You can gain weight just looking at it. Coffee and tea stations were at the far end of the dining room, soda and water on ice at the table nearest the living room.

We perched on the overstuffed white couch and chairs, balancing a dining hall tray and making polite conversation. John was interested to know from us what we liked best about the program, why we had chosen Northeastern, how it was working. Interesting conversation. But it became riveting when John invited one of the faculty members to share a bit about his early teenage years. We were fascinated as he recounted his parents' decision to purchase a small hotel in Florida and relocate their family from Michigan.

His tale regaled us and suddenly we were more than students behaving ourselves at the big house. We were friends sharing common experiences, laughing at our fears and our reactions, sympathizing with our pain and trials. Time fled as we gathered over bread on a chilly December evening, connecting in ways that will not soon be forgotten. It was an engaging event, so much more than just a reception or a holiday celebration. It was fellowship at its best, all vestiges of class removed, everyone belonging, sharing, offering their own experiences, being accepted. A family moment indeed.