My youngest daughter graduates from high school this afternoon.
She is like a plant with roots that need room to grow. I know. She is ready. I am trying to block the impulse to slip last-minute advice to her. I am trying to look ahead beside her. I am trying to stand in the wings away from her. I want to imagine her future. But my mind’s eye quietly keeps turning my attention to the special experiences over the past 18 years that still seem so near . . . so fresh.
One memory I thought might be leavening. I was sitting in a
Before it was too late . . . before my hand had slipped out of hers, I wanted to share with her one more time my vision of a life well lived. So I wrote this bit of verse for her as a gift.
To live life well
Your cup, drink completely
Your faith, test existentially
Your love, release freely
Your joy, reveal tastefully
Your vision, pursue boldly
Your lifestyle, simplify radically
Your family, shelter vigilantly
Your friend, stand with unconditionally
Your neighbor, meet respectfully
Your vocation, embrace cheerfully
Your darkness, enter courageously
Your fears, confront vigorously
Your disappointments, weather patiently
Your wounds, tend silently
Your failures, see honestly
Your integrity, grip firmly
Your gifts, develop humbly
Your victories, celebrate gratefully
Your insights, remember clearly
Your path, mark carefully
