By Winnie Bolton
Last month brought back graduation ceremony memories, some of which were our grandchildren’s that my late husband, Tom, and I were able to attend.
One particular memory was of the plane trip, a sadly funny one, and then the ritual itself of Lauren’s graduation. It was a sadly inspirational one.
For our flight to Arizona on Southwest Airlines we were not seated together. My seat was with a reader on the right and a disheveled old geezer who reeked of alcohol on my left.
About 20 minutes into the flight I turned on the air dispenser full blast to help my nostrils. Sound asleep and snoring loud horrors, the old geezer didn’t complain and I felt less nauseous.
Soon the flight attendant came by offering liquor. The “out-like-a-light” passenger immediately awoke and ordered a screwdriver as I buried myself deeper into my book.
Was he a happy man feeling no pain or could he be an anxious man petrified of flying?
I was uneasy when the screwdriver arrived, and I felt like a helpless enabler as he ordered a second drink.
Now on with Lauren’s graduation, the second part of my story.
It was set on the high school’s huge football field at 7 that same evening. There was a beautiful orange Arizona sunset coming to an end at 9 p.m., showering down twinkling stars amidst fireworks of different hues amongst 3,000 people, not counting the 462 graduates.
Two graduates shared an unforgettable speech honoring a classmate who didn’t make it to graduation day. Her name was Katie and she was one of Lauren’s best friends. She had died one week earlier after struggling through her senior year with a brain tumor.
Through my binoculars I looked out over the field of 18-year-olds with the senior choir singing, “You will always be in my heart,” and caught Lauren’s face with tears streaming down her cheeks and somehow felt
God’s presence touching all those tender hearts.
Out of the touching would come a healing, enabling them to make a real contribution to the world because hope, faith, forgiveness and charity still survive no matter what life throws at us.
P.S. – On July 6, I’ll be having my other hip replaced. I could use a prayer or two.
