The Powder Puff Graduate in Absentia

 

The Powder Puff Graduate in Absentia

Theology in the Trenches

By Kathleen Kjolhaug

 

She was a peach you know, a peach of a kid. There just wasn’t another like her in this world. And…she was ours. For a short few years she was a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter, a cousin, a friend, my student, and a part of our community. What went wrong, nobody knows. To this day, nobody knows how a little powder puff of a girl was whisked away years ahead of her time. The problem wasn’t that she was whisked away to heavenly places, the problem was, she left all of us behind, and her heart beat within so many…and still does.

 

Her heart beat within many because she was a breath of fresh air. If air were pink, it would have been all hers. If carbon dioxide were colored, hers would have been emitted in pink tones. She was a girly girl full of light, love, laughter, and kindness. She was about to turn seven. Seven years old is a good number. One loves dollies at this age, and one loves to play dress up.

 

What was cool about this little girl was that she was not only mommy’s girl, but she was also a big sister who had another little set of eyes watching her. She was attentive to those little eyes, protective, and loving in her role as a big sister. Responsibility was on display as she maneuvered her way through those young years pouring out affection via little kisses upon every cheek she encountered.

 

One day, the kisses stopped. She was taken. On a sunny Fall day while playing on the swing set, she was called home. Without so much as a whisper, without so much as a tumble or a fall, without any of it making any sense what so ever, she was gone…and it was painful. As time stood still, many grieved what she was to them, and as the years went by, they yearned for the markings of memories never made.

 

Now this, her senior year, was a milestone in the heart of a mother...and the heart of a mother knows. The heart of a mother has an innate clock that knows it is time. It knows when it is time for a birthday, it knows when it is time for that first date, when it is time for prom, and when it is time to graduate. It matters not they are no longer physically present; it is time…because they are forever with us…and they are in absentia.

 

So, to all of the 2013 graduates in absentia, we say, congratulations. Congratulations to the families who have somehow made it through to this moment holding your hearts instead of your hands.

 

Revelation 21:4 indeed sheds light. “He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” Amen.