Commencements

The theme song for May 2025 in my extended family has been “Pomp and Circumstance,” with commencement exercises in three states on three consecutive weekends. I joined family members in Rhode Island to watch my niece receive her master’s degree - a two-part commencement experience including bagpipes, a baseball diamond, and a basketball court. Eight days later, I sat in a basketball arena in Tennessee with another branch of my family to cheer for my nephew as he graduated from high school.

Two schools, three ceremonies

Due to a family birthday party, I missed another niece’s college graduation in Georgia. When I saw her the following weekend, I asked her how she felt on her graduation day. Excited? Sad? “I felt cold and wet,” she deadpanned, recalling the chilly, rainy day when the Class of 2025 endured a miserable commencement ceremony.

With “Pomp and Circumstance” still ringing in my ears, I have been thinking about my own commencement exercises. For years, the tassels I wore on my caps during my three graduation ceremonies (Franklin High School, University of Tennessee at Knoxville, and Samford University) have dangled from the rearview mirror of my car. These tassels are not simply reminders of graduation ceremonies; they are potent symbols of perseverance, reminders that I can do hard things. In fact, my memories of those three commencement experiences are fuzzy at best.

My three tassels, faded from years of dangling from my rearview mirror

My high school graduation was held on the school’s football field. I don’t remember a word that was spoken that day, but I do recall feeling relieved that the weather was pleasant. When I look back at photos from that day, I see sheer joy emanating from my smiling face. I was clearly grateful to be the center of my family’s attention. I was also more than ready to say goodbye to high school and begin a new chapter of my life.

My grandmother and cousins traveled to attend my high school graduation.

My undergraduate commencement ceremony was held in Stokely Athletic Center, UTK’s basketball arena. A photo taken by my father that day captured my beaming face as I sat between friends who were also graduating from the College of Liberal Arts. I felt a deep sense of satisfaction for achieving my goal of earning my degree in three years. I was also awash in excitement about the future, even though I had no idea what I wanted to do vocationally. In a few days, I would be moving to Washington, D.C., to join my fiancé. In four months, we would be married. Let adulthood commence!

Three UTK Student Orientation Assistants in a row

UTK’s class of 1985 was fortunate to have a superb commencement speaker - Alex Haley. Because my father was a trustee, he was invited to attend a luncheon honoring the Pulitzer Prize-winning author, and I eagerly accepted my Dad’s invitation to be his guest. We had the good fortune to be seated at Mr. Haley’s table, and my Dad reveled in the chance to swap stories with the renowned storyteller. During that luncheon, university officials announced they were giving Mr. Haley a pair of swans in appreciation for his commencement speech; sadly, the swans were not on hand for the presentation.

My third and final commencement experience took place in the Birmingham-Jefferson Convention Center, the cavernous venue where Samford University’s Class of 2004 received their degrees. I was so afraid that my cap was going to slide off my head as I crossed the stage that I was unable to concentrate on anything else. I also missed the experience of being formally hooded - M.Div. students were expected to put on our own hoods on as we lined up in the bowels of the BJCC. The Beeson Divinity School consecration service, which had been held in the school’s chapel the previous week, was far more meaningful to me.

My cap is barely hanging on.

Just as had been the case at my undergraduate ceremony, as I crossed the stage to receive my diploma, I had no idea how I was going to use my degree professionally. Even though I had spent 4 1/2 years commuting from Nashville to Birmingham to earn my Master of Divinity degree, I was unsure how I would put my new credentials to use. When people asked me what I was going to do next, I would reply with a smile, “God is dealing with me on a need-to-know basis, and apparently I don’t need to know.” Something was commencing . . . but what?

As I have reflected on the three commencement exercises commemorated by my faded tassels, I have decided to add a fourth commencement experience to my list. On June 30, 2025, I will celebrate the 15th anniversary of my ordination to the gospel ministry. My ordination took place within the context of a Sunday morning worship service at Immanuel Baptist Church in Nashville.

Surrounded by love on my ordination day

My ordination day was somewhat bittersweet. My mother died the week after the congregation called me to serve as their associate pastor. When my father and grandmother came down the aisle during the laying on of hands, my father whispered, “Your mother would have been so proud of you.” I wasn’t the only one who was missing her that Sunday.

I also felt a twinge of sadness because this ordination service was not taking place in the church where I had been a member for 15 years, the church where my husband and I had raised our son, the church where I continued to volunteer while I was commuting to seminary. But I was grateful that dozens of friends from that community of faith chose to drive across town to attend my ordination service; in doing so, they bore witness to the spiritual journey that had led me to this place. I was also deeply grateful for the good folks at Immanuel, who had only known me for six months but were eager to ordain me.

Just as my memories of my three graduation ceremonies have faded, so have the details from my ordination service. Near the conclusion of the service, I was invited to finally wear the robe I had purchased six months earlier, days after I had been hired. Since my ordination fell on Pentecost Sunday, I was given the appropriate stole for the liturgical season - my favorite stole for years to come.

Aside from my father’s remarks, I can recall only two other blessings out of the hundreds that were offered during the laying on of hands. As I knelt on the bench with my head bowed and eyes closed, three teenagers approached me, tentatively laying their hands on my shoulders.

“Knock, knock,” whispered the first.
“Who’s there?” whispered the second.
“God,” whispered the third, before the trio shuffled off giggling.

The laying on of hands concluded with the pastor offering words of blessing. I don’t remember much of what he said - I was emotionally exhausted by that point - but I do recall the line that got my attention: “May the memories of this day buoy your spirits when ministry gets hard.”

Perhaps that’s why commencement exercises are so important. Our commencement memories can encourage us when times are tough. When we look back on those moments in time, we can recall the people who helped us achieve our goals, the folks who showed up to celebrate with us, the ones who cheered us on as we commenced to take the next steps into an uncertain future. When we remember those liminal moments, we can reflect on how God was present with us through each transition, guiding our paths, supplying our needs.

Do you have memories of commencement exercises? How can those recollections serve you well today? May your memories of those moments buoy your spirits when life gets hard.