It seems like such a simple object. Many homes have them this time of year; they come in an array of colors and yet they are all the same. It just hangs there, in its 100% polyester glory, reminding me not to dry clean it or place it in the dryer. And yet, it is so wrinkled from its packaging. Can I iron it? What if I ruin it? And that is when it hits. My eyes overflow with tears that gently roll off my cheeks onto my son’s graduation gown.
No one ever told me this over-priced piece of fabric would contain such an enormous amount of emotion. I’ll admit, I might not have been listening!
This gown represents first and foremost, an end and a beginning. It’s the end of his high school career, cheering him on at Friday night football games, packing his lunch, seeing him off to school each morning, and welcoming him home each night after practice. All of these moments I will miss, but with wisdom from Jesus’ mother, Mary, I have kept all these things, reflecting on them in my heart (Luke 2:19). When one stage in our lives comes to an end, another always begins. The doors that are opening for him stir great excitement and hope in my heart. It is just the beginning of his journey in this world. The Doctor Seuss book, Oh the Places You’ll Go comes to mind and summarizes this beginning quite well.
“You’re off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting, So… get on your way!”
Dr. Seuss – Oh the Places You’ll Go
Pride. So much pride in his commitment to his academics, athletics, and clubs. His pursuit of knowledge and personal growth has truly been amazing over his past four years of high school. However, my greatest pride lies in seeing the man he has become. His compassion, kindness, and confidence assure me he will be strong in who he is as he enters into the world that awaits him. His self-accountability and self-determination ease my mind in regards to his academic future at the university. He is well prepared for the journey ahead.
Many of these tears running onto his gown are of pure and simple joy. Yes, it’s true, I cry when I’m sad. However, joy pierces my heart even deeper, thus letting it spill out into tears. This joy outshines every other emotion. It keeps the sadness over the “lasts” in perspective and allows me to celebrate the gift of today. Joy also ushers in the gratitude that humbles my heart. This gratitude is in the recognition that raising this boy into a man took many dedicated teachers, faithful friends, and a supportive family. This joy is the gift of my faith. The crucifixion wasn’t the end; it was a new beginning expressed in the Easter joy of the resurrection.
So much is changing for all of us. The little boy who sat on my lap every day at nap time to hear his favorite book is now a grown man. In some ways, my work is done. It is his turn to take on the world, explore, and find his way. On the other hand, my work is just beginning. The opportunities to guide will be fewer, but more important. My goal is to find that delicate balance of setting him free, but keeping a soft place for landing when he needs a safe haven. Thousands of parents before me have accepted this challenge, and now, so do I.
The wrinkles are out and my tears have dried. As we head out the door, I’m reminded of the words of the prophet Jeremiah that have carried me through so many times of change and I am at peace.
“For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, declares the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for woe, to give you a future of hope.”
Jeremiah 29:11
