As my church prepares to celebrate Graduate Recognition Day this Sunday, I find myself flooded with memories spanning decades. From when Bob earned his MBA in 1997, to 2013 when Justin graduated high school and I completed my bachelor’s degree and we stood together at that service, to my master’s in 2022, and Matthew’s high school graduation in 2024—each milestone feels both distant and close all at once.

Now, I’m watching graduates I’ve known since birth—or since their preschool days—step into their next chapters.

Below is an excerpt from Chapter 29, “Pomp and Circumstance,” from Outta Nowhere, as I reflect on and pray for those walking through this sacred, bittersweet season of endings and beginnings.

I’d love to hear from you—how is this season unfolding in your life? I can hardly believe it’s already been two years since my youngest son graduated high school.

As I found myself right in the middle of awards nights, church recognitions, senior celebrations, and graduation for my baby boy, I was basking in deep joy and pride. All the while, grief gathered quietly at the base of my throat and at the edges of my eyes.

I caught myself wondering if this was how Mary felt as she watched her baby boy—the Savior of the world—grow and step into adulthood. We are not told exactly what she felt. All we know is that Mary “treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19). The same phrase appears again in Luke 2:51 after Mary and Joseph searched three days for their adolescent son. Three days! I have no doubt she felt sheer terror, yet somehow she gathered herself and once again treasured it all in her heart.

She tucked these moments away—no photos, no videos—just the sacred keeping of a mother’s heart, mind, and soul. I am learning from her example, striving not to drown in waves of grief, but to treasure and ponder what God is doing in this season of bittersweet celebration and release.

I imagine joy and grief swirled within her, ebbing and flowing throughout Jesus’s life—even as he stepped into adulthood. Mary may not have understood it all, but she knew her son was born with purpose—one that would include both glory and suffering. She mothered him while holding his calling in her weary hands and tender heart.

And so I, too, embrace this sacred tension—the normal, natural, necessary loss—and at the same time celebrate my baby boy as he spreads his wings and soars into his next chapter. I will spread my wings as well, trusting God, all the while pondering these things in my heart.