6.22.2021

 


To my high school graduate,

Here we are, the end of your senior year.  12 years have gone by just like that.  In that 12 years you  have gone to 3 schools and a cross country move, yet you have continued to make friends and excel at everything you do. 

This is not how I imagined this year for you. It’s not even close to what I’d hoped it would be. I know you have watched class after class of seniors celebrate, make memories and launch into adulthood together. You waited for your turn to do the same. You looked forward to so much—your final band practice, your last high school band concert, your last musical, your last band library duties. You had planned for The Long Good-Bye of your senior year. You had prepared yourself for that difficult yet exciting season. 

Instead, Covid 19 has given you – An Abrupt Good-Bye. No one had prepared you for that. None of us could because none of us have ever lived thru this before.

When you started kindergarten, we carefully chose your backpack, labeled your indoor shoes and lunch kit and laid out your outfit for the First Day of School picture. When I tucked you in that night before the big day, I felt all the feels. I was so proud of you; you grew and learned so much already in your short five years of life. I was excited for you and scared for me. How was I going to fill those hours while you were away?  I was so sad that my baby was a school kid already. But I was also ready to see you own this adventure. I felt all of those things and so much more.

Each year as you grew, I marveled at how you approached challenges and how you were so brave, even when things were so hard. I was so proud of your success and with you in the heartbreaks of growing and trying and trying again. I tried my best to walk alongside you, without overshadowing you or standing in your way. More than anything, I wanted you to see how strong, capable, and magnificent you were.  

I want you to know how strong, capable and magnificent you are. Even in the disappointment. Even in the uncertainty. Even in the sadness. You, my dear one, are still so stunning.

And, baby, it’s okay.

It’s okay to grieve and to feel let down. You did not get to have the long awaited 5 plus hours at the Aiken centre or the prom where you would wear a beautiful dress and hang out with your friends for the very last time as school mates, it is okay to feel like the world has let you down.   Jesus will never let you down, he knows the end from the beginning, he knew when you were born how 2021 grad year would work out for you, he knows your future plans and he aligns it.  “For I am confident of this very thing, that he who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.”

Today as you walk across that stage and they provide you with that long awaited, worked hard for diploma and you leave FHS for the very last time, I know without a doubt you will succeed in everything you do. Every career you choose, every job you take, every morning when you wake up, smile because you have everything to be proud of. 

You don’t need to have a five-year plan, just now. A five-minute plan is okay. Or no plan at all is good, too. (Daddy won’t agree) Eventually, the future will make way for itself. It always does. Eventually, you will find your way. You always do. I believe in you. I believe in all of the possibilities within you. I believe in your magnificent soul and your ability to find your way back to yourself, to your dreams and to your hope.

No matter how long it takes you, or where it takes you, I am right here with you. I will be here loving you, believing in you, cheering you on every step of the way. I will walk right beside you. For as long as you need me.

I believe in you, you magnificent, brilliant, courageous soul.

I believe in you.

Love always

Your biggest fan, your mom.

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