Graduating!

On Today's Menu:
Graduation Cake, half chocolate, half white

I am so sick of cake. We went to five graduation parties last weekend, and for some reason had cake at four of them. Don't ask me why. When it came time for cake and the plates were passed, we didn't say no. Can you say eating without a brain?

At the last party on Sunday night at church, we watched a Powerpoint presentation of four of the graduating boys as they grew up. With those pictures, I saw my own kids grow up along with two of them. The only thing that makes me want to cry is the fact that a certain boy leaves this summer, and those days of the Fabulous Four--Paul, Matt, Zach and Hannah--are gone. Once upon a time, my best friend Lisa (Paul and Matt's aunt) and I took the kids to the zoo, with all four of them stuffed in the back of her Pulsar with the T-top down. Now Paul's headed to the Marines in July, and life around here will not be the same without him. Meanwhile the two 15-year-old boys and a certain 13-year-old girl left behind will learn about the changes life brings. The tighter we try to hold onto people, the easier they slip through our fingers.

Graduation isn't the ending. Another name for graduation is commencement, which also means "beginning."

I can spend time letting tears fall as I look at pictures of the past, and totally miss the fact that there's changes coming. The future shines bright like an unspoiled morning. Yet I said in a post months ago, "I fear change," like the guy in the Domino's pizza commercial who only orders pepperoni. I shouldn't say I fear change. It's more the unknown that makes me wonder--what if the changes don't bring warm, fuzzy feelings?

Graduation--commencement--beginning--brings change. As a mother, it's realizing my kids aren't kids anymore. Junior high and high school, thanks very much. As an aunt and a friend, it's realizing I get to cheer my nephews on as they step into adulthood, thankful I've had a role in helping them become who they are. As a writer, I feel the weight of trust that a publisher has given me. It's exciting, scaring, exhilarating. When I think of beginning, I think of fresh pages in a notebook, ready to write on. I think of New Year's Day with a whole year full of possibilities, or the first day of school with a new lunch box and sneakers without scuffs.

In all our beginnings, God's mercies are new every morning. I call that a Graduation Guarantee.