Al is graduating this weekend. It's been a long, but quick, four years since I remember being a Junior and wondering how in the world my leetle brother was already in Academy with me. Those years flew by, I graduated, started college, lived in Argentina, came back to Southern, and then BAM: the brother is already graduating again. Time. What a weird blessing. The sister is going to be an upperclassmen somewhere in Michigan next year, too. How in the world is she already nearing her college years??

I passed Alise in the aisle on the way out and we said a few things, but to me it was mostly just like, "mercy, we were just there, weren't we alise?" I thought it, I said it, and I live it. I probably shouldn't reminisce too much, because things have changed a lot and dwelling on the past memories sometimes hurts, because the present is not as full of them as the goods of the past are, all clumped up into a single thought. Then again, it certainly has been good growing up. I'm most certainly still on my way to grown up, but there's been progress. I guess my brother's graduation, a milestone in his life, becomes somewhat of a milestone in my own because it makes me look back and reflect on what I've gone through, experienced, accomplished, failed at, felt proud of and regretted.

Mr. James spoke of our march, the march to Zion. He is good with words and painted a beautiful picture. In my mind's eye, I suppose it was through Collegedale, just past four corners where we were all happily marching. With proud steps, firm and steady, and eyes on the glory ahead. I suppose those "on the curb" were still happy though. They probably shouldn't be, however, as they were not marching. "This world is...not enough." A good aim and motto. Short and very sweet. I think it is high time I consider what lies ahead for my self. This me that I am is going somewhere and it'd be good to have an idea where.

Wow, my little brother is graduating. Good times. I only hope that he, and the other graduates, realize how those of us a little older hope the best for him/them. Theirs are lives in a critical spot, the direction of which is being determined in these years. Mine was determined pretty well, I think. I continue to march, but I have at times strayed a bit to walk or stand on the shoulder, I think. I think other times I have simply paused, not so much to take a deep breath, but to wonder what sitting on the curb is like. I would like very much to start walking again. It's sometimes difficult to pick up one's head though, and keep it directed toward the light ahead. Even though it is brilliant and beautiful and bedazzling, the candles and little LEDs on the side have a certain attraction to them as well, even though I know they will ultimately hurt my eyes in the dimness around me. Sometimes, I think it is so dim, those gathered around me are tough to see. I feel alone in the dark, like I may be on the wrong path or not following the right light, or so far behind that it is too late. What if I were to see the light slowly fade out and vanish ahead of me! Yes, sometimes I find it a challenge to take hold of that faith I know is authored in my by the Word, to grasp it and march in its light. But as I am reminded of example and success of Stephen, Shadrach and co., and Moses, I am also reminded that they are listed in the same book as He who called Himself the Light. I know in my heart that they followed the same light that I try to follow. They have succeeded before me and now, give me hope that I will also succeed. That I will shake their hand or hug them or kiss them, however we will greet in heaven, when I see them at the end of our march.

I just hope my brother and sister, and those around us, will all walk together.