Category Archives: graduation

A mother’s view of graduation

Posted on by
2

There is nothing that prepares you for the emotions you face as your last child graduates from high school. It doesn’t matter how many people say things like, “Just be happy for her.” Or, “Don’t cry, it’s a great milestone.” Or, “Think of all the places you can travel as empty nesters!” Or, the worst, “Don’t keep focusing on these ‘lasts’”.

I will focus on these lasts if I want to focus on these lasts. I want and need to cherish these moments and not forget what it feels like to be a mother of a high school senior. To be a mother of a high schooler. To be a mother.

And actually, I think that’s okay.

When our first child graduated, seven years ago, I don’t recall being a total wreck. He was so ready to go off to college. So excited to see new things and be done with the old. 

When senior year began for our middle child two years later, I warned the remaining family that September, “You know I’ll be crying off and on all year, right?” 

“Yeah, Mom, we know.”

But then along came Covid 19 and the entire second half of her year was so unusual that when we walked, masked-up, into her high school to record her commencement speech, it felt so joyful that at least she could do this little thing that the tears were weirdly absent – I just couldn’t stop smiling.

Now it’s five years later and I’ve been cherishing the lasts all the more because our middle child missed so many of them. She missed prom. She missed her last orchestra, band, and choir concerts. She missed graduation with its parties and ceremonies and public awards. 

This third time around, each one of these events feels precious – almost sacred – and I am not taking them for granted. 

Please understand, I am not using that word sacrilegiously. If something is “sacred” or “holy” in the Bible, it means that thing is set apart. Sure, generally we use these words in a religious context, but we also speak of “sacred spaces”, a room or building or outdoor location that is “set apart” in purpose and feeling. It is held as a special place that one can go in order to, ideally, commune with God or nature or even one’s own self. 

Well, I do believe that these “lasts” are set apart, cherished moments, not only for my graduate, but for me. Set apart for me to breathe it all in. The recognitions, sure, the proud moments, yes, but also just set apart to bathe in the sheer ecstasy of being a mother.

Are all mothering moments ecstatic? Ummm…in the understatement of eternity…no. No, they are not. And that’s why I choose to revel in the ones that are. 

I choose to celebrate with tears and smiles and Facebook posts and phone calls and texts and more tears. I choose to brag about my child. I choose to invite friends to rejoice with me. I choose to cherish every. Single. Moment. 

Because being a mother is hard stinkin’ work. And I deserve this sacred time as much as my daughter does.

So if you see me crying at this event or that, if you’re talking to me and I suddenly burst into tears, if you question why I skipped a meeting or chose not to go to work one day, please understand this: I am cherishing all these moments, and it’s rather overwhelming.

But in a good way. In a marvelous, heart-bursting-with pride, wonderful kind of way.

Taken for granted

Posted on by
6

IMG_9753

You might not think that getting one’s Wisdom Teeth pulled would be a terribly significant moment in one’s life but, like learning to ride a bike and high school graduation ceremonies, it’s kind of one of those things that everyone has done.

Or at least they did, pre-COVID19. Now many things that we took for granted have become giant hassles; but judging from the photo at the top of this post, we’ve proven that graduation ceremonies can be flexible!

Just as with commencement, it’s even possible to get Wisdom Teeth removed in this new era, though it is a bit more of an adventure including having temperatures taken and waiting out in the parking lot in 95 degrees instead of in the nicely air-conditioned waiting room.

Our middle child, Katie, had her Wisdom Teeth removed last week. Yep, a week after the rite of passage of graduation, she experienced the rite of passage of Wisdom Tooth removal. Four others of her friends, as it turns out, either got theirs pulled last week or will this week or next.

It’s the thing all the cool kids are doing right now.

Katie’s recovery has gone well and all of the ice cream, pudding, Jello and applesauce that she bought (note to self: give your kid a budget next time you send them out ((the day before their surgery)) for post-Wisdom-Tooth grocery shopping) has proven itself useful. In fact, I think that all of us have partaken of at least a pudding or two.

The last time that Katie had any sort of tooth situation, she’d fallen off of her bike, age 9, and chipped not just one but both of her permanent front teeth. The drama of this current dental situation was much lower – though also much more expensive – than that one. This drama was limited to the drive home afterwards and the wait in the pharmacy parking lot, when she asked us, “Why did they put a cardboard box in my mouth?” and then asked, “Isn’t it over? Why can’t I take it out now?”

She also was quite concerned about her spit.

“When do I get my spit back?” she asked. “My spit’s playing hide and seek. Did they replace it with glue? That’s super mean. I want my old spit back, please. Did they charge you extra for the glue spit?”

There was no break in this conversation. Just one thought after the next. And then, when I told her I wasn’t sure about the charge for the glue spit, she replied, “Let’s ask Dad. Oh, here he comes,” she said then, seeing him outside the car window as he approached from the pharmacy. “Maybe he has my spit injections.”

Her spit injections came in the form of a bottle of water – yay, Dad the hero! She dutifully took her medicine, tipped back in the passenger seat, and fell asleep for the hour-long drive home.

“Cardboard-box-mouth” notwithstanding, she came through the surgery well, and it was a relief to get home, relinquish the couch to Katie, and know that we’ll only have to go through this one more time with her little sister.

I remember when I had my Wisdom Teeth removed, in tenth grade. My doctor’s name was Dr. Shock. That’s a hard name to forget, for a doctor. My husband had his out a couple of years after we got married. Our son had his out three years ago. Like I said, it’s just a thing you do. A thing you take for granted.

But in this COVID19 world, nothing can be taken for granted any longer and that brings me to my point. Our church is opening this week. After three months, we can go to church! We’ll socially distance ourselves, we’ll bring masks, we won’t being singing, but we’ll be there. Together.

It is true that the church is not a building. It is God’s people. And I will be happy, indeed, to see those people again.

I pray that I won’t, in six months, or six years, take the opportunity to attend church for granted. I probably will. But I hope that I won’t. I hope that I will appreciate all that going to church gives me. And that, when I walk in its doors this Sunday morning, I will thank God, as never before, for the gift of my church family.

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” Ephesians 3:20,21 NIV