Finally, after 3-1/2 long years, I graduated. Didn’t you just do that, you may ask? This time it’s for real.
It’s official. The asterisk beside my name in May, when I walked in the commencement ceremony in Asheville, has now been removed. Last night, as I stood for two hours in an open doorway, blasted by arctic air while I handed out graduation programs (part of my job), I was so thankful I’d chosen to walk in the ceremony with perfect weather and a livelier atmosphere.
For the finishing touch to complete my degree requirements, I turned in a 277-page Young Adult novel. The feeling of accomplishment was made a little bit sweeter since I turned sixty a few weeks ago.
No degree comes without a whole lot of help from a whole host of people, and I am thankful to all of them. My professors. My fellow classmates. The university where I work. And especially my husband who’s put up with me doing homework again, after a thirtysome-year hiatus. I feel blessed by God, humbled to have had this opportunity that many people much smarter than me never get, and expectant about the future.