Commencement

At church on Sunday, our service recognized its graduating high school seniors.  They stood at the communion railing with their parents as our pastor read words of blessing.  At first, the seniors knelt at the railing with their parents placing their hands on their shoulders; then the pastor had them trade places, the seniors placing their hands in blessing upon their parents.  "Graduation", our pastor pointed out, was often used interchangeably with "commencement"- which doesn't mean an ending, but a beginning.

"Once there was a time when your parents could hold you in their arms and rock you to sleep," he said.  "They can't do that anymore, and you are beginning a new adventure in the world..."
He went on as I pictured Oliver and Charlie standing behind me, placing their hands on my shoulders, in what will seem to be just a few years later.  I looked down, fidgeted with the church bulletin, and fought back tears.  Already Charlie has grown past being rocked to sleep.  Please, someone, hit pause, let me hold my boys a little closer, a little longer. 

The seniors repeated the blessing back to the parents: "no matter where I am, I will always be your child..."

A scene from a National Geographic film on turtles flashed across my mind.  They hatch, and all vulnerable and tiny, the first thing they do is leave their parents.  How horrible, I remember thinking in that middle school science class as I watched the wee reptiles fight the elements.  They actually have to leave their parents...  And yet, some six years later, I did that very thing. 

Charlie is now five months old, and has gone from this:

to this:

Sigh...better start planning the graduation party.  It has commenced.