graduation: day 3

The weekend, the one I didn’t want to attend & made up every excuse to avoid, came to a close much too quickly. Breakfast was had (my pants were getting tight by then), hugs were given, and goodbye’s said. It came & went faster than my memories could catch up, soak in, linger.

But that is why we have pictures, right?

Looking back on the whole weekend, it confirmed that people are willing to sacrifice for us. and how honored we are to have a family, to have parents & siblings & aunts & uncles, who model that sacrificial behavior. Who stand up & say yes we want to be there, despite my fit-throwing & avoidance-seeking; who love on us when we don’t want (or don’t think we need) to be loved on.

The pride that was expressed at this accomplishment pales in comparison to the lessons learned from the journey. Jon & I have been through a lot over the past four years (but who hasn't?). And this accomplishment--& the photos posted here—shouldn’t at all detract from his accomplishments, too. But those will come out—you’ll all be awed & amazed at his humility through it all.

One thing I must say, though, is that we got through this past year without complaining, for the most part. We made it a goal: him in Iraq, me who-knows-where on rotations that we would take each day as it came, embrace what we were given, & try to be the best person we could be despite the trials & frustrations & strains that life seemed to slip in to golden moments. And we did it. Together.

With time, the memories of this weekend will fade. The specifics will blur together...and I won’t remember that I drank a 16-oz chai everyday while I was there. I won’t remember that our room at The Greenbrier smelled like an old woman’s perfume (probably for good reason as lots of old people stay there). I won’t remember Jon standing on his chair in the middle of the circus tent doing fist-pumps & shouting my name. I won’t remember the humidity or the polyester unitard or the wine we sipped at dinner.

But this. This is what I will remember: that we were loved. That we were together. And that life, at the present moment, was good, wonderful, full, & sweet.

And those are the memories I choose to carry with me. Like sunshine in my pocket, an umbrella for when the rains come. No doubt, the storms will come someday…but for now, I’ll bask in warmth & leave the post-storm rainbow for someone else.