ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, June 9, 1996 TAG: 9606070013
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: THE BACK PEW
SOURCE: CODY LOWE
To Carrie, on her graduation from high school:
It's not as if I have to say goodbye. But, of course, that is part of what I'm doing. Along with every parent who has ever done it, I have been trying to figure out how to let you go a little at a time.
Most of us parents don't want to.
We love you so much, and we worry about all the hard lessons we know you have yet to learn. We wish we could fix the world so it would never hurt you. That you'll never have a flat on the "wrong side of town." That you will never fail at something that you really care about doing. That no one you love will ever betray you. That your faith in God will never be shaken.
As you've already discovered, I can't stop those things from happening to you. As hard as they are for you to bear (and for me to watch) I know you have to live through them to learn to survive, that they really can make you stronger, more secure.
Your mother and I have tried to help you prepare for those tests.
I haven't been overcome by the mistakes I've made as a parent, mostly because I've been overwhelmed with pride at the woman you've become. As I've watched you become a woman, the only reason I've not been overcome by all the mistakes I've made as a parent is because I'm overwhelmed with pride at what you have become in spite of my ineptitude.
Oh, don't get me wrong. I think I've been a good parent some of the time. Your mother and I kept a roof over your head. We read books to you - as great a gift, perhaps, as any we've given. We let you know and believe that you are a person of great worth, not only to us, but to the world you're about to enter on your own. We've never hesitated to say we love you.
But as we start to really let you go, I can't help but think about how often I didn't do enough - or did the wrong thing altogether. When I lost my temper over some trifle. When I didn't listen right away or for long enough. When I let the demands of my job keep me away from an hour or two of your company when I might have let the work slide.
Sick as you may be of listening to them, I worry that I haven't told you enough stories. Stories about my own struggles with life and faith and death. About my dad, whom you never got to meet. About my grandfather Steelman, the World War I dirigible pilot, revenue officer and wine maker. About my grandfather Lowe, the fur-trapper, beekeeper, curer of hams and seeker of ginseng. About my great-grandmother Harris, who, as a little girl, helped pack food for a wagon train headed from North Carolina to the wild west of Missouri.
It's so hard to see when you are 18, but your ability to stand tall as an adult will depend in large part on your family and spiritual roots being deep and familiar.
What amazes me is that despite all that stuff I did wrong, you turned out just great, anyway. Maybe that's one reason I'm hopeful about your future.
Even though it's important that you hear all the true words about how life will be tough and you've got hardship yet to endure, I want you to remember that life really isn't all trial and tribulation.
Look around you. So much of life is wonderful.
You have good friends, who have put to a lie the cliches some adults spout about how rotten the "younger generation" is.
You live in a wonderful country, where opportunities may not be handed to you on a platter, but where you are free to articulate your dreams and try to make them come true.
You are living in the midst of people who are remarkably full of religious faith - most of them followers of Christ, like yourself. Among those who follow other spiritual leads, you'll find that nearly all respect your right to follow whatever religion you want, and they'll generally be supportive of your quest - as you are of theirs. Nearly all of them believe almost as strongly in our nation's principles of freedom of religion as they do in their own religious principles. Indeed, that freedom IS one of their religious principles.
You have a delightful sense of humor that you'll find can carry you through many a travail. That laugh may be the thing I'm going to miss most when you are not here with me every day.
You are a member of a loving extended family, the members of which would do just about anything for you. Who will never, ever stop loving you.
But what I really wanted to tell you today, here in public, is that when I heard you sing and saw you graduate Friday, I could not have been happier or more proud of you.
I know that, in the words of the song you sang, you are about to light up the world with the shining candle of your soul.
We're going to need that light. I thank God and I thank you for sharing it with me.
LENGTH: Medium: 90 linesby CNB