Pomp & Circumstance

Several years ago, my oldest son, Aaron, graduated High School. At the time, we talked about having a ceremony or perhaps participating in the support group’s organized graduation. Aaron, being a typical teen, begged me not to make him wear a cap and gown and walk across a stage. He told me that he would be mortified! Unfortunately, I gave in and we had a few friends over to the house and handed him his diploma without any fuss.

Shortly after, we were up at 4 a.m. praying over him and watching as the Army recruiter took him away to boot camp. I cried. Everything felt like it had moved too fast. It felt as if there were no real closure, no official beginning; only a fuzzy feeling that something wasn’t right. I get the same feeling when we don’t start the day with devotions and prayer. The memories I have of that time are also fuzzy and confusing, muddled together with my grief at his leaving and the darkness of the early morning.

About 3months later, I was privileged to attend Aaron’s graduation from boot camp. In contrast to our “high school graduation”, it was rife with pomp and circumstance; ritual and ceremony. They stood and recited their pledges to the American flag, received awards for certain accomplishments, and each was commended for his participation and completion of a very difficult, physically grueling and emotionally taxing ordeal. They were each declared, before witnesses, a Soldier and ready to move forward into a new beginning as a member of the Army of the United States of America.

I realized that day how important ceremony was in remembering the milestones in one’s life. When marking those events, the memories that we make for our children and us, as parents, are so important to the shaping of their future. I know Aaron looks back on that day he graduated boot camp with pride and a feeling of accomplishment. I know that it encourages him when he feels inadequate. If he could go through boot camp and be declared a Warrior by his superior officer, then he can accomplish anything! Likewise, I remember his accomplishment with a feeling of closure and a clearer picture of his future.

This year, my oldest daughter, Deanna, graduated from High School. When I talked to her about a graduation ceremony, I again heard the “please don’t make me…” Thankfully, this time I didn’t give in.

Deanna stood at the back of the church in her forest green cap and gown. As I sang “The Impossible Dream” (From The Man of La Mancha), she began walking slowly down the aisle as the audience stood and honored her. When she came up onto the stage with me, I finished singing and gave her a hug.

She had worked on a PowerPoint of some of the highlights of her life, which we showed as she played “The Mirror” by Yanni on the piano. The pictures she chose represented her baby life; her childhood smiles, cooking with Papa, banging on the piano with her sister; her teen years as she cooked by herself, trained her horse, went to prom; and the last picture was her in her cap and gown doing a victory pose. The whole crowd of witnesses laughed at that one.

Her speech, prepared in between studying for some tests, was about how she had been preparing for success in life. How she had discovered that she was the only one responsible for her learning; how experiences, which she was given time in her day to experience, increased her knowledge; and how her parents had prepared her for failure, which equaled success no matter what she chose to do.

She delivered her speech with such confidence and conviction, I’m sure that everyone who heard was inspired toward their own success. I just held back tears and tried not to look at her father, who was also trying not to look like he was crying. We were so proud.

At the conclusion of her speech, she called us up onto the stage with her so that she could read a letter she had written to us. In it she thanked us for everything that we had done to help prepare her for the future. If there hadn’t been tears before, there were a few now.

As her parents, we had both written short remarks to her that we read aloud. Mine was about how I had seen her progress through the years. I told how she had developed the character that I admired through times of challenge in her past. Her father spoke a Blessing over her. He told her that God knew her even before she was born and that she was living up to the meaning of her name (Spiritual leader, consecrated to God, a servant of the King) and that she would be able, with God’s help, to face and overcome the challenges of the future. He told her that we would always be here to pray, advise, and help her if she needed us, but that, as her father, he released her into adulthood to begin her own adventure and leave her own legacy.

Everyone in the audience stood as we presented her with her Diploma. As her mother and primary teacher, I cannot tell you what a thrill this gave me. I felt like I was graduating, too. I’m pretty sure that there were not many dry eyes as I shifted her tassel from one side to the other. The applause rang out as we presented her as a graduate.

At the end of the night, we were all exhausted and exhilarated at the same time…especially Deanna. It was a night that we will all remember for the rest of our lives. It was a night that we can look back on and say “she accomplished this!” and Deanna can look back on and say “that was the day I graduated from high school!” It was a night that marked the end of a season and the beginning of another. Because there was closure of the one season, we can all help, release, guide, encourage and inspire Deanna on into the next.

Deanna – May God guide you into your future. May He be with you in your adventures. May He show you the clear path into the special future that He has for you. May He give us, your parents, the wisdom to deal with you according to this new season and help you continue your journey.