Twas two nights before Christmas and as we all gathered in the student kitchen, the spirit of Christmas worked its magic and before my very eyes 30 high-school students warped into little elves all named Martha. The little bakers were hard at work (some even with nothing but an apron) eating snickerdoodles, oatmeal and peanut butter cookies just about as fast as they made them. I thought one Christmas miracle was enough for a lifetime, but as the last cookies were baking and the colossal mess of flour, eggs and sugar was being cleaned up, the Martha’s then transformed into mini Eminems and the night ended with everyone crowded around a keyboard for an impressive free-style rap session. - a way in which I have never before celebrated Christmas.
On the night of Christmas Eve I found myself on the Xavier roof for the Christmas Vigil. A dank concrete roof had been elegantly transformed into a haven of worship and celebration with lights, plants, decorative fabrics and the Eucharist . Students, villagers and faculty all came together under the stars before a baby cradled in a manger dressed in palm leaves. Words merely dilute the beauty of this night, and the photographs only mute the passion of how the Chuukese welcome the birth of Christ…. another way in which I have never before celebrated Christmas.
On Christmas morning, the senior boys that had stayed on campus prepared a brunch for all of us – eggs, bacon, rice, spam, cereal and apples - a far cry from a quiet breakfast of Grandpa’s & Nana’s infamous pita fritas – gathered around the table with my parents, grandparents and Michael Edward in the comforts of home…. quite the contrast from a room and porch full of about 45 people - a way in which I have never before celebrated Christmas.
After brunch we loaded up the bus and flatbed truck and headed into town to sing Christmas carols at the local hospital and prison. Christmas has always been comfortable – a time to kick back, eat so much food and spend q.t. with the family. Instead, I found myself serenading the bedridden, and looking in the eyes and shaking the hands of people who have taken the life of another. That is powerful – and a way in which I have never before celebrated Christmas.
The day after Christmas, the faculty, and our visitors (my community mate’s parents and 2 JVI’s from Pohnpeii) boarded three motor boats and took a surreal trip across the lagoon to the outer reef. The boats dropped us off, turned around and headed back to Weno, effectively leaving us stranded for 2 days. If ever there was a deserted island to be stranded on – this IS the place to be. We landed ashore and our jaws just dropped. Our acclimation process did not take long – as we explored the island no larger than the size of a standard track - we found 2 little houses with beds, 2 bathroom huts, a dining hut and a cook hut. By any standards – Chuukese or American Pisar is a RESORT! Our lazy days were filled with lounging around in the hammocks, snorkeling, exploring the outer reef, navigating the 3 surrounding (also deserted) islands, learning to play the ukelele, enjoying some island cocktails and spear fishing – oh man we were so spoiled! Mmmm Pisar – amazing – something I’ve never done before period never mind a way I’ve never celebrated Christmas.
It’s been a beautiful week and a much needed break (and break from the students – who have currently been shipped out to Pisar for New Year’s with the thought in mind that they cannot get themselves in too much trouble!! I’m interested to hear how Father Arthur (our director) has handled 18 boys all alone on one island!!) And it’s been a most memorable Christmas in so many ways that I would have never expected. Of course it’s so hard calling home and hearing the family celebrate without you, but this Christmas carried with it profound meaning that has tested my strength, my comfort zones and my faith.
I pray that you and your family had a blessed Christmas and may the Lord continue to bless you and carry you into 2006. May there be peace in your hearts and may the light of the Lord continue to illuminate the path before your feet. My Love and Prayers are with you during the holiday season. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Monday, December 12, 2005
Look at me
One might think that the excitement I felt after my ladies won the championship would at least double after the gentlemen’s team brought home the gold just two days later. However, I unfortunately found myself bound by a resentment that not only marred my experience of the game, but continues to corrode a small part of who I am as a female in this culture.
The only differences between the ladies championship game and a ladies regular season game were the heightened number of and enthusiasm from the fans, and the eruption of celebration that ensued after the victory bucket. I figured that given the less individualistic nature of these cultures, the atmosphere of a championship game would naturally defy the level of intensity that I was expecting. Hence, my reaction was a quick paragraph of muted emotion, careful not to show a pride disproportionate to the importance Micronesians placed on the game. But I was sadly disillusioned when I stepped back into the Chuuk High, freshly painted, pristine and absolutely packed gym on Friday afternoon. My excitement and anticipation for watching the game as a fan in the crowd, instead of as a coach or scorekeeper were gradually drained out of me as I let the acrimony, and irritation simmer. The Xavier corner of the gym was packed with so many fans including the Director of the school, the principal, the cooks, the dean, the secretary and the treasurer, that they were practically spilling out onto the court. (This is even in spite of the fact that none of the freshman class was there due to their Community Service Project weekend.) The opposite wall was lined, rows deep with Chuuk High fans and locals that came out of the woodwork to see what all the hype was about. Before the game started, the referee announced the individual player names of both teams and had them line up and shake hands at mid-court and for the next 40 minutes, the gym, being acoustically unfit to support so many screaming supporters, shook with deafening noise.
Perhaps the most painful sites were those in which grown women put themselves on display, dancing, screaming and laughing hysterically. I realize the paradox in that statement, and the thing is, it’s wonderful to see women enjoying themselves. However, I was already seething from the blatant discrimination against the ladies teams, and then to make the direct connection between how countless offenses like this build up and explode into such a visible manifestation of the desire for expression, was agonizing. Knowing that their borderline immature behavior was a direct result of the roles they are forced to fill has made it very hard to watch and share in their pleasure.
This bitterness came full circle once I sat down to read my sophomore exam essays. One of the questions dealt with the treatment of women in the novels we have studied, and asked the students to additionally comment on how this compares to the way women are treated in their culture. Perhaps it was a selfishly asked question, as I was more interested in their comments as opposed to their reflection on the novels, but I should not have been surprised by the answers. Granted the answers did vary (some students feeling that women were treated equally, or even superior to men), but there were several that contained a commonly repeated theme. I received answers such as:
“Women just cook, wash clothes, and sweep. But if they didn’t men would starve, stink and be filthy. Women are not glorified but they do play an important role in life.” (Pohnpeian male)
“In some cultures like mine, I-Kiribati, the women are last. They are equal, but during feasts, traditions and assemblies they don’t’ have power over anything.” (Marshallese male)
“Women are inferior to men.” (Chuukese female)
“Women are expected to obey and respect men willingly. They aren’t suppose to do anything that offends men (ex: wear shorts, pants, answer back, walk around.) Husbands can also fool around while the wives are at home being faithful. Women aren’t also expected to take higher positions than their male relatives. In everything we do, males are supposed to be superior.” (Chuukese female)
“In my culture, [ladies] have more privilege. Women today in my culture cannot walk by when there is a brother of theirs sitting. As a sign of respect they kneel and walk on the knees. But unlike the men, ladies do more chores in the house then men. Ladies would have to wait for the men to finish eating, than she could eat.” (Chuukese male)
It is so obvious how the gender roles here in the FSM and throughout the Pacific are so rigidly defined. Americans can make jokes about women belonging in the kitchen, or cleaning up after them, but here – there is nothing funny about it – that’s how it is. I’m used to jumping in and helping out because there is work to be done, but lifting something heavy is a man’s job, and someone will promptly remove it from my hand saying “You don’t know how it’s done around here.” Likewise you would never see a man preparing food unless he’s out by the barbeque, because that is a women’s job. I think this is why women seize the opportunity to let loose and act the way they do at events like this because they are constrained by the way Micronesians define gender. It is not so much the pure expression of excitement, but a disguised expression of pent-up frustration – anything to make the statement that says “Look at me – I’m more than what I cook, what I clean, who I take care of and who I respect.”
Part of me wants to make excuses for the way thing worked out with the game. It was partly my fault for not seeing to it that the men’s and women’s championship games were handled comparably – now I know for next year. There was no school on Friday so it was easier for more people to come down and watch. The men’s game was actually against Chuuk High, where as the ladies played Saramen Chuuk, so it would make sense they would spruce up their own gym and draw a larger crowd. But there is another part of me that can attribute this difference to none other than the double standard to which women are held. They are not expected to be athletes. They are not expected to be aggressive. They are not expected to be on display.
The only differences between the ladies championship game and a ladies regular season game were the heightened number of and enthusiasm from the fans, and the eruption of celebration that ensued after the victory bucket. I figured that given the less individualistic nature of these cultures, the atmosphere of a championship game would naturally defy the level of intensity that I was expecting. Hence, my reaction was a quick paragraph of muted emotion, careful not to show a pride disproportionate to the importance Micronesians placed on the game. But I was sadly disillusioned when I stepped back into the Chuuk High, freshly painted, pristine and absolutely packed gym on Friday afternoon. My excitement and anticipation for watching the game as a fan in the crowd, instead of as a coach or scorekeeper were gradually drained out of me as I let the acrimony, and irritation simmer. The Xavier corner of the gym was packed with so many fans including the Director of the school, the principal, the cooks, the dean, the secretary and the treasurer, that they were practically spilling out onto the court. (This is even in spite of the fact that none of the freshman class was there due to their Community Service Project weekend.) The opposite wall was lined, rows deep with Chuuk High fans and locals that came out of the woodwork to see what all the hype was about. Before the game started, the referee announced the individual player names of both teams and had them line up and shake hands at mid-court and for the next 40 minutes, the gym, being acoustically unfit to support so many screaming supporters, shook with deafening noise.
Perhaps the most painful sites were those in which grown women put themselves on display, dancing, screaming and laughing hysterically. I realize the paradox in that statement, and the thing is, it’s wonderful to see women enjoying themselves. However, I was already seething from the blatant discrimination against the ladies teams, and then to make the direct connection between how countless offenses like this build up and explode into such a visible manifestation of the desire for expression, was agonizing. Knowing that their borderline immature behavior was a direct result of the roles they are forced to fill has made it very hard to watch and share in their pleasure.
This bitterness came full circle once I sat down to read my sophomore exam essays. One of the questions dealt with the treatment of women in the novels we have studied, and asked the students to additionally comment on how this compares to the way women are treated in their culture. Perhaps it was a selfishly asked question, as I was more interested in their comments as opposed to their reflection on the novels, but I should not have been surprised by the answers. Granted the answers did vary (some students feeling that women were treated equally, or even superior to men), but there were several that contained a commonly repeated theme. I received answers such as:
“Women just cook, wash clothes, and sweep. But if they didn’t men would starve, stink and be filthy. Women are not glorified but they do play an important role in life.” (Pohnpeian male)
“In some cultures like mine, I-Kiribati, the women are last. They are equal, but during feasts, traditions and assemblies they don’t’ have power over anything.” (Marshallese male)
“Women are inferior to men.” (Chuukese female)
“Women are expected to obey and respect men willingly. They aren’t suppose to do anything that offends men (ex: wear shorts, pants, answer back, walk around.) Husbands can also fool around while the wives are at home being faithful. Women aren’t also expected to take higher positions than their male relatives. In everything we do, males are supposed to be superior.” (Chuukese female)
“In my culture, [ladies] have more privilege. Women today in my culture cannot walk by when there is a brother of theirs sitting. As a sign of respect they kneel and walk on the knees. But unlike the men, ladies do more chores in the house then men. Ladies would have to wait for the men to finish eating, than she could eat.” (Chuukese male)
It is so obvious how the gender roles here in the FSM and throughout the Pacific are so rigidly defined. Americans can make jokes about women belonging in the kitchen, or cleaning up after them, but here – there is nothing funny about it – that’s how it is. I’m used to jumping in and helping out because there is work to be done, but lifting something heavy is a man’s job, and someone will promptly remove it from my hand saying “You don’t know how it’s done around here.” Likewise you would never see a man preparing food unless he’s out by the barbeque, because that is a women’s job. I think this is why women seize the opportunity to let loose and act the way they do at events like this because they are constrained by the way Micronesians define gender. It is not so much the pure expression of excitement, but a disguised expression of pent-up frustration – anything to make the statement that says “Look at me – I’m more than what I cook, what I clean, who I take care of and who I respect.”
Part of me wants to make excuses for the way thing worked out with the game. It was partly my fault for not seeing to it that the men’s and women’s championship games were handled comparably – now I know for next year. There was no school on Friday so it was easier for more people to come down and watch. The men’s game was actually against Chuuk High, where as the ladies played Saramen Chuuk, so it would make sense they would spruce up their own gym and draw a larger crowd. But there is another part of me that can attribute this difference to none other than the double standard to which women are held. They are not expected to be athletes. They are not expected to be aggressive. They are not expected to be on display.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
WOO WOO WOO WOOO!!!
I apologize for the spotanaeity of this post - BUT WE JUST WON THE CHAMPIONSHIPPPPPP!!!!! MY LADY NAVIGATORS TOOK THE TITLE!!!!!! i'm working on putting a few new pics up - but you can see my little champions all suited up!!!! IT WAS A NAIL BITER - they took it 29-27 against rivals Saramen Chuuk - of course that scoreboard shot is in there!! HA HA - oh man i'm soo proud!!!! :-)
Amazing Grace
Exams are now underway which effectively marks the end of the first semester. It cannot be possible that it has been four months that I’ve been here already, nor can it be possible that I have survived half a year as a teacher!!!!! Mmm don’t be fooled – I hope that you are not as gullible as my students!
This past Friday I was reviewing for exams with my freshman class. The bulk of the exam was essays on themes we had covered in the novels that we read, in addition to one of my own personal favorites – ah you know me to well!! Of course I’ve found a way to sneak Living with Passion into the curriculum, and in reviewing I find myself in up on my soapbox going off on this tirade trying to impress upon them the importance of living their lives as a gift to God, and using every ounce of this opportunity that they have to be here at Xavier……so I finally finish my diatribe and it was the sweetest thing – too cute not to share….but so there’s dead silence right? not the blank stare – I have no idea what you’re talking about silence…. but the kind where it takes a minute to sit and absorb before the formation of verbal acknowledgement is possible….. and somewhere in between the seconds it took for me to identify the type of silence, and for them to process….from the back of the classroom comes a lone applause that infectiously sweeps through the room, and the whole class erupts…..ha ha – it was absolutely adorable. Now I have yet to look over the exams to determine whether it was a confirmation of comprehension, or just a seized opportunity to get rowdy, but it was an unforgettable moment nonetheless.
The latter could have been a very reasonable explanation as this past weekend was spent celebrating the Xavier Day festivities, so the last thing the students wanted to focus on was exams. Every year around this time the school celebrates the feast day of St. Francis Xavier with alumni, food and heated competitions. 2005-2006 gives special cause for celebration as it is a year of the Jesuit Jubilee – the 500 anniversary of the birth of Blessed Pierre Favre and St. Francis Xavier, and the 450 anniversary of the death of St. Ignatius Loyola. Now to try and explain this day to you would do a great disservice to the energy, the spirit and simply indescribable beauty. The best I can do is to steal the image depicted by Dwyer – my community mate. He said that the feeling that he got from this Saturday was such that if you looked at the world from outer space, Xavier High School, Chuuk, Micronesia, Mabuchi hill could have been spotted. It was radiating so much light, so much fire – that the iridescence would have been very obviously visible, even from that far away. The Kingdom of God was here.
Impossible? Not if you were here. You start the day with mass – in which students transform a dusty, dimly lit rec house into a glorious dwelling place of the Lord. From there you watch all the teams, (My sophomore Orionz class and the Junior class teamed up (team Loyola), and the Senior & Freshman classes team up (Xavier) – and for the first time, the faculty jumped in as team Faber) parade onto the field. Now let me preface this next part by saying that you were woken up earlier today around 6 in the morning by the sound of students chopping down the bamboo just behind your house, and suddenly in this moment as the swarm settles into teams of red, white and Carolina blue you realize why. As three Palauan students step up the mic and begin singing the national anthem of their island nation, the tip of the bamboo stick slowly reveals a Palauan flag being draped from the roof of the building overlooking those gathered for the opening ceremony. As you realize what is going on, you identify the flag bearer, and the senior Palauan assumes his position on the roof securing the lone flag. Next the Marshallese step up and sing their national anthem as their senior Marshallese rep brings his flag forward. Lastly reps from each of the four federated states sing of their allegiance and five other flag bearers step forward, all shirtless with Xavier being spelled out across their chests. You can feel the chills cascade down your back as the poignancy of this image settles in.
The moment escapes you just as quickly as it entered your consciousness, and with that, the games begin. Hours of intense rivalry, trash-talking, faculty humiliation and serious intra-scholastic competition fill the better part of the morning and afternoon. Though you are in your glory with the quasi-track meet type atmosphere, you are equally enthralled by the hot-ramen eating contest, palm leaf basket-weaving contest and dizzy race that provides levity amidst the tension of sparring sides. Even more humorous, but in the cutest way possible is the fact that the faculty, maintenance & repair, and the cooks still don’t number more than 25 – thus relying on the alumni & fans that have come to watch makes for some of the most adorable relay races you’ve ever seen - Older ladies in a dress down past their knees shuffling around the field to pass the stick off to the anchor leg - an older gentleman whose tucked in shirt accentuates his protruding beer belly, but whose smile indicates that he is not phased by the sizable margin he needs to make up to place second to last. You try as best you can to look and act normal, but you can not suppress the pulsating feeling of being very consciously aware of the fact that you are ALIVE –a feeling that spills out through the expression on your face and makes it appear as though you are walking around with a hanger in your mouth! But as you scan the crowd - as you step back for a minute to absorb the glory of the moment, you draw two possible conclusions: either someone is supplying hangers, or the water has been spiked.
As the final events are completed and points tallied, the day closes much the same way it opened – with a crowd gathering around the “podium.” But this time there is no segregation by color. As excited as your Orionz are to have defeated the seniors, it seems inconsequential to the more important ritual underway. If you listen close enough, you can hear bricks caving in, mortar melting, and the fragments crumbling underfoot even as “The World’s Greatest” streams from the speakers.
You know how after a basketball game, two teams of about 12 players each line up for a congratulatory handshake? Ok so instead of a line it’s an enormous mass of people, and instead of twenty four athletes, it’s 150, and instead of a handshake, it’s hugs and tears. For the first time since you’ve been here you are given this outlet for expressing how much these students and these co-workers have affected your life and so you seize the opportunity and follow their lead. It was almost as if you spoke volumes within a span of 7 minutes. To make eye contact with someone, to see the look on their face reciprocating your sentiments, to invite them in by stretching out your arms, and then in a moment of vulnerability collapse into an endless narrative of how beautiful they are by smothering with a very simple, and speechless gesture. There is no need to question motives, not even the slightest motion to second-guess – absolutely nothing inappropriate but the amount of time allotted to “congratulate” an inordinate number of people.
Sitting down does nothing to settle the rush and the words coming from the mic are nothing more than distracting noises in your serene moment. You look at the faces - some of the eyes red from tears. You can relate to the emotion. You wonder what they are thinking. Are they savoring it? Are they trying their best to hold on to what the ephemeral nature of moments this powerful try to steal away. Do they know? How much do they understand? What will they do with it? Where will it take them? Look how gorgeous they are….
The closing speech ends, and as the SBA president gives the instructions, a circle begins to form that spans the entire field. Then in a moment of weakness, you feel the tears start to flood your eyes but you cannot wipe them off your face because your hands are tightly grasped by the two students on either side of you. You recognize the first notes of Amazing Grace and consider chiming in. However, arrested by the pure glimpse of heaven before you resolve to listen, and take it all in.
This past Friday I was reviewing for exams with my freshman class. The bulk of the exam was essays on themes we had covered in the novels that we read, in addition to one of my own personal favorites – ah you know me to well!! Of course I’ve found a way to sneak Living with Passion into the curriculum, and in reviewing I find myself in up on my soapbox going off on this tirade trying to impress upon them the importance of living their lives as a gift to God, and using every ounce of this opportunity that they have to be here at Xavier……so I finally finish my diatribe and it was the sweetest thing – too cute not to share….but so there’s dead silence right? not the blank stare – I have no idea what you’re talking about silence…. but the kind where it takes a minute to sit and absorb before the formation of verbal acknowledgement is possible….. and somewhere in between the seconds it took for me to identify the type of silence, and for them to process….from the back of the classroom comes a lone applause that infectiously sweeps through the room, and the whole class erupts…..ha ha – it was absolutely adorable. Now I have yet to look over the exams to determine whether it was a confirmation of comprehension, or just a seized opportunity to get rowdy, but it was an unforgettable moment nonetheless.
The latter could have been a very reasonable explanation as this past weekend was spent celebrating the Xavier Day festivities, so the last thing the students wanted to focus on was exams. Every year around this time the school celebrates the feast day of St. Francis Xavier with alumni, food and heated competitions. 2005-2006 gives special cause for celebration as it is a year of the Jesuit Jubilee – the 500 anniversary of the birth of Blessed Pierre Favre and St. Francis Xavier, and the 450 anniversary of the death of St. Ignatius Loyola. Now to try and explain this day to you would do a great disservice to the energy, the spirit and simply indescribable beauty. The best I can do is to steal the image depicted by Dwyer – my community mate. He said that the feeling that he got from this Saturday was such that if you looked at the world from outer space, Xavier High School, Chuuk, Micronesia, Mabuchi hill could have been spotted. It was radiating so much light, so much fire – that the iridescence would have been very obviously visible, even from that far away. The Kingdom of God was here.
Impossible? Not if you were here. You start the day with mass – in which students transform a dusty, dimly lit rec house into a glorious dwelling place of the Lord. From there you watch all the teams, (My sophomore Orionz class and the Junior class teamed up (team Loyola), and the Senior & Freshman classes team up (Xavier) – and for the first time, the faculty jumped in as team Faber) parade onto the field. Now let me preface this next part by saying that you were woken up earlier today around 6 in the morning by the sound of students chopping down the bamboo just behind your house, and suddenly in this moment as the swarm settles into teams of red, white and Carolina blue you realize why. As three Palauan students step up the mic and begin singing the national anthem of their island nation, the tip of the bamboo stick slowly reveals a Palauan flag being draped from the roof of the building overlooking those gathered for the opening ceremony. As you realize what is going on, you identify the flag bearer, and the senior Palauan assumes his position on the roof securing the lone flag. Next the Marshallese step up and sing their national anthem as their senior Marshallese rep brings his flag forward. Lastly reps from each of the four federated states sing of their allegiance and five other flag bearers step forward, all shirtless with Xavier being spelled out across their chests. You can feel the chills cascade down your back as the poignancy of this image settles in.
The moment escapes you just as quickly as it entered your consciousness, and with that, the games begin. Hours of intense rivalry, trash-talking, faculty humiliation and serious intra-scholastic competition fill the better part of the morning and afternoon. Though you are in your glory with the quasi-track meet type atmosphere, you are equally enthralled by the hot-ramen eating contest, palm leaf basket-weaving contest and dizzy race that provides levity amidst the tension of sparring sides. Even more humorous, but in the cutest way possible is the fact that the faculty, maintenance & repair, and the cooks still don’t number more than 25 – thus relying on the alumni & fans that have come to watch makes for some of the most adorable relay races you’ve ever seen - Older ladies in a dress down past their knees shuffling around the field to pass the stick off to the anchor leg - an older gentleman whose tucked in shirt accentuates his protruding beer belly, but whose smile indicates that he is not phased by the sizable margin he needs to make up to place second to last. You try as best you can to look and act normal, but you can not suppress the pulsating feeling of being very consciously aware of the fact that you are ALIVE –a feeling that spills out through the expression on your face and makes it appear as though you are walking around with a hanger in your mouth! But as you scan the crowd - as you step back for a minute to absorb the glory of the moment, you draw two possible conclusions: either someone is supplying hangers, or the water has been spiked.
As the final events are completed and points tallied, the day closes much the same way it opened – with a crowd gathering around the “podium.” But this time there is no segregation by color. As excited as your Orionz are to have defeated the seniors, it seems inconsequential to the more important ritual underway. If you listen close enough, you can hear bricks caving in, mortar melting, and the fragments crumbling underfoot even as “The World’s Greatest” streams from the speakers.
You know how after a basketball game, two teams of about 12 players each line up for a congratulatory handshake? Ok so instead of a line it’s an enormous mass of people, and instead of twenty four athletes, it’s 150, and instead of a handshake, it’s hugs and tears. For the first time since you’ve been here you are given this outlet for expressing how much these students and these co-workers have affected your life and so you seize the opportunity and follow their lead. It was almost as if you spoke volumes within a span of 7 minutes. To make eye contact with someone, to see the look on their face reciprocating your sentiments, to invite them in by stretching out your arms, and then in a moment of vulnerability collapse into an endless narrative of how beautiful they are by smothering with a very simple, and speechless gesture. There is no need to question motives, not even the slightest motion to second-guess – absolutely nothing inappropriate but the amount of time allotted to “congratulate” an inordinate number of people.
Sitting down does nothing to settle the rush and the words coming from the mic are nothing more than distracting noises in your serene moment. You look at the faces - some of the eyes red from tears. You can relate to the emotion. You wonder what they are thinking. Are they savoring it? Are they trying their best to hold on to what the ephemeral nature of moments this powerful try to steal away. Do they know? How much do they understand? What will they do with it? Where will it take them? Look how gorgeous they are….
The closing speech ends, and as the SBA president gives the instructions, a circle begins to form that spans the entire field. Then in a moment of weakness, you feel the tears start to flood your eyes but you cannot wipe them off your face because your hands are tightly grasped by the two students on either side of you. You recognize the first notes of Amazing Grace and consider chiming in. However, arrested by the pure glimpse of heaven before you resolve to listen, and take it all in.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)