Pomp & Circumstance

This morning I attended a local high school's graduation. I sat all alone in a crowd of 3,300 gathered to watch 316 graduates accept the diplomas they have been pursuing for the majority of their lives. I am sure the woman siting next to me thought I was a lunatic, sniffling intermittently from beginning to end for reasons that were not obvious to her.

For some of the graduates, this morning marked a milestone--but in many ways their graduation from high school was never in question. They were simply fulfilling a portion of the life plan their supportive parents have had for them since birth. Yet, for others--this was monumental. Under the uniforms of caps and gowns it was impossible to determine who was who.

Four of those young graduates were known to me from the group home where I volunteer. I was specifically there for J, but couldn't help but feel extreme love and pride for all four--two of whom graduated WITH HONORS. These kids have every excuse to have never walked across that stage in a cap and gown. Their stories literally include living in cars, tool sheds and tents. They have been abused, watched their mothers suffer abuse and know first hand the devastation that drug addiction can bring to a family. They have parents in jail and fathers they've never even met. They have been bounced around in state care most of their lives. Two of the male graduates have lived in our group home for 8 years.

As I watched for my young friends, I was particularly struck by a graduate with physical impairments. I assume from his appearance it was likely cerebral palsy. He took the very long processional walk in his walker, with a gowned attendant (a teacher perhaps) accompanying him. It took that young man 3-4 minutes to make it all the way to his seat. He stopped and started many times--including a few times when spasms seemed to briefly overtake his body. Each time his pace was interrupted, his attendant would speak to him and give him a gentle nudge to keep going. By the time he made it to the ramp that accessed the stage, he was clearly exhausted. Two other attendants appeared and encouraged him along the last few paces of his journey. I had tears streaming down my face as I watched him. I can only assume that long walk was a representation of what his life had been like so far...stops, starts, encouragement.

Then it hit me: He was the perfect metaphor for my foster kids. They didn't have a walker to publicly display their impediments--but they, too, had stories marked by challenge, adversity, frailty and support. The challenges J, S, T & C faced to get to this day were emotional, mental and circumstantial rather than physical. Their processional walk in was no less emotional for me.

When the diplomas were handed out I recognized the name of a young man from our church. He lost his father 2 years ago to colon cancer. Another story of triumph.

And those were just the stories I knew...

I must confess that the obnoxious catcalling, yelling and air horn blowing that I generally find quite rude, suddenly made a little more sense to me. Each graduate that walked across that stage has a story--and the people there to support them know what it took to get them there. (For the record, I still didn't audibly shout for my friends, but inside I was cheering with everything I had!)

Knowing someone's story cripples our ability to judge them. A story makes a 2D person 3D.

- Jon Acuff

Lord, help me remember that the people I encounter are indeed 3D--with stories and struggles I may never know...but You do. Help me to love and support people well and cheer them on in their journey. I may not always know their story--but YOU do.