“Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth,before the evil days come and the years draw near of which you will say,“I have no pleasure in them”’ Ecclesiastes 12:1
I jumped back into the car, panic nipping at my heels. There was barely enough time to change out of my recital dress and into the required white grad dress before the 33 seniors in my class began the slow march down the aisle. In my haste, I had forgotten my graduation gown.
Peeling out of the parking lot, my anxiety mounted. Fingers clenched the steering wheel and eyes glued to the road. I calculated the time it would take to get home, run in the house, get the gown, return, park, throw it on and put on my cap.
It was an impossible task.
I was going to be late for my own high school graduation. Granted, it had been a busy day—actually, it had been a busy nine months. One year earlier, I had realized that, with a little finagling, I could actually graduate a year ahead of schedule. Which sounded great to me. After all, I was ready to be in college and get my life started.
Or so, I thought.
By adding a class to my already full schedule (thank you, Mr. Adams, for teaching me government during lunch) and dropping cheerleading, I had done it. I wasn’t valedictorian or even close to that well-deserved honor, which actually went to my best friend Gwen, but I had finished.
In spite of all I had going on, music was not to be dropped. It was far too important, both to my parents and to me. So, piano lessons with Mrs. Mary-Belle Blodgett continued. I learned a lot from the endearing gray-haired widow, but it was rather inconvenient that she scheduled her end-of-year-recital on the same afternoon as my graduation.
That beautiful June Sunday began in typical, unquestioned fashion (at least in my house) with Sunday school followed by church. For whatever reasons, I was given the keys to a car and instructions to drive myself to the recital and return in time for the ceremony.
Sitting impatiently at St. Luke’s Episcopalian, I waited for my turn. I had worked for months on Mendelssohn’s Scherzo, Opus 16, #2 in E minor. Finally seated at the piano, I played the piece in record time (as a side note, I can play all of four measures of it today). Finishing up, I slipped out door and drove to my graduation.
The words of an old song come to mind—
Slow down, you’re going too fast…
(Sid and Marty Krofft)
Truth is, I am not always very good at “enjoying the moment.” Always looking ahead and on to the next thing. Yep, that’s me.
I’m not sure why, but I don’t have one picture from that auspicious day. Nor do I remember who spoke or much about the tables specially set up in the hall where we had our mini-open houses. There is a vague memory of me talking with Mrs. Bostwick in the crowded lobby, after the ceremony.
“Congratulations, Melissa,” she spoke jubilantly in her big, happy voice, handing me a gift.
To which I, in all of my 17-year-old wisdom and grace, replied, “Why? I have four more years to go.”
Cross my heart and hope to die, that’s what I said.
I distinctly remember the brief startled look on her face before I took the gift and left. I was in a hurry to go somewhere.
Of course, I was.
It has taken me many years to understand and appreciate the value of a cherished celebration. In the meantime, I have missed many.
This year, countless special moments are taking place in new ways; weddings, baby showers, birthdays. High school and college students are graduating—but their celebrations are no less important because they aren’t all together throwing their caps in the air.
In case you are wondering how God feels about celebrations, check out the Feast of the Tabernacles (Leviticus 23:24), the Passover (Exodus 12:15-20), and the Festival of Weeks (Deuteronomy 16:10).
Take a moment to consider the fact that the first miracle Jesus performed was at a wedding (John 2:1-11). Oh, and let’s not forget how we, too, are going to be part of the best ever wedding feast one day (Revelation 19:6-9)!
Yes, I know that we’re supposed to forget those things that weigh us down and that resting in our laurels is never a good idea, but over and over, God told His people to remember and to rejoice at what He has done in our lives.
“But I have trusted in thy mercy; my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation.I will sing unto the LORD, because he hath dealt bountifully with me.” Psalm 113:5-6
That’s what celebrations are for.
Mrs. Bostwick, I know that this apology is 45 years overdue, but I truly am sorry for the ingratitude I showed that day.
There were so many things to be thankful for—my parents who had sacrificed to send me to an accomplished piano teacher, made sure I received a good education, transported me to a zillion places and even bought me not one, but two dresses for the day!
My entire family had come to celebrate with me, including a brother who was in the Air Force.
Yes, my high school experience was filled with teenage angst, but they were good years. I was blessed with teachers and friends who cared.
And I had survived. I’m not talking just about surviving Algebra (not my finest moment), but I mean literally. I had survived—alive and in good health. Not everyone gets that gift.
This miracle of being alive and seeing another day.
And, maybe this year, we would all benefit from focusing more on what we do have—like, well—like life.
That afternoon, I tore down the road, window open, and hair askew. Pausing to look before turning, another car flew past, squealed to a stop then began quickly backing up to where I sat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something gold flapping in the breeze and heard my brother, the Air Force one, yelling at me—
“Hey, did you forget something?”
There he was, one hand on the wheel and the other holding my grad robe out the window.
And, in that moment, that one pure grateful moment—I celebrated.
Perhaps we could all stand to do a little extra celebrating right now; perhaps we could allow ourselves to forget what the future holds and be unabashedly, thoroughly grateful for what God has done for us today.
Thank you Melissa: you truly blessed my heart. As reading, I followed you, breathing hard, all the way back home and your return…loved hearing about you caring AF brother! 😮. Missing everyone! Love you, Suzie
Suzie, we sure miss you, too! Thank you for your beautiful example of grace. I am so glad you enjoyed my story and were right there with me :).