© 2015 Jules

Matriculation Marathon

Graduation season is like the Olympic Finals of youth ministry.  Our event would definitely be considered a marathon.   There are three high schools that educate the student population of my city and I have graduates from each of the three schools.  Which means that I got to listen to the names of every single graduating senior in the entire state of California. (Or at least it felt like that.)  And it also means that I got a stack of party invitations the height of a Chemistry textbook.

Don’t get me wrong, I was proud as punch of all my grads, and I definitely wiped a tear or two when no one was looking.  I bought the jumbo size airhorn and blasted it as their names were called (since I’m sure they could hear me.) I took more photographs than a first time mom at her daughter’s ballet recital.  And I had them edited and posted to all social media sites within an hour of the final cap being tossed.

That being said, if I hear “Uptown Funk” being played by one more orchestra, I’m gonna turn into a red rage monster and stuff someones head into a tuba.

The main hazard of attending that many graduation parties in a 48 hour span, is burrito buffet overload.  Pacing your consumption is key.  You don’t want to offend the jubilant mothers of the newly minted grads who have labored over a hot pot of carne asada, by telling them you already ate.  At the same time, you don’t want to need a forklift to carry you to your car after the final cake is cut.  Have a burrito at the first house. A cupcake at the second house and some bean dip at the third house.  Then on party day two be sure to control your portion size and only ingest half the frosting, since no one is ever offended if you don’t finish the frosting!

The best moment of my Matriculation Marathon weekend was winding through crowds in search of each student, seeing their face light up when I found them and then hugging them in their cap and gown (while trying not to smash their lei or money necklace.)  The worst moment was trying to find parking and realizing I would have to walk 1.3 miles to get to the stadium, since I didn’t arrive FIVE HOURS EARLY like the rest of the population.

Until next year then, I rest on my laurels and enjoy the glory of summer break!

Airhorn!

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