Graduations make me cry

WE just had another graduation the other day. About 150 boys finished their 3-year technical courses in information technology, electromechanics, industrial electronics and mechanical technologies.

As usual, I was asked to give the invocation. Through the years, I have learned to put this little prayer into writing and to stick to it when delivering it. Otherwise, I get into trouble.

This is because graduations make me cry. I can’t help it. And I stumble and get stuck at different points of my prayer when tears start to well up in my eyes.

As the boys march in, I first get amused to see them suddenly whipped up for the occasion, in their fancy “ukay-ukay” dress shirts complete with real orchid corsage, their hair done in the latest craze, obviously a bit self-conscious, and escorted by their loving albeit battle-scarred parents.

Then, thousands of thoughts and emotions flashflood my mind and heart. This is when I make a conscious effort to control my feelings. This is supposed to be a happy moment, but why do tears come? They seem to like to come together.

I’ve been talking to them during their study and have been privy to many intimate details of their lives—their struggles, fears, wishes and ambitions. I get to know the conditions of their hearts, the range of their minds.

Their daily drama at home and in school, mostly petty, is the regular stuff in our chats. I get to know their growing pains, their problems and frustrations, as well as their conquests and successes.

Personal progress—from seed to tree to fruit—takes a long time. Changes can be too subtle to be detected. But I know they are taking place. We just have to be patient, hopeful and focused, dutifully doing the watering, etc.

Disciplining and redirecting their emotions, hormones and blind impulses has been the tricky task to do. Opening new horizons, giving them reasons to hope severely test my creativity.

Crafting new and appropriate arguments, encouraging words and stories have to be done daily to nourish their spirits. They can be buoyant at one time, then sagging the next.

My consolation is that many of them have been trained in the school of hardships, and they know how to rebound easily. We just have to keep an eye on them. My prayer is that little by little they become more stable and mature.

Boys cry, and I have considered that a normal sign of a developing manhood. The idea that they don’t or should not cry is a shameless lie. They have a heart, and are quite simple and transparent, unlike some of our twisted politicians.

I think boys need to cry, otherwise, they won’t grow well. They too need some outlet, a vent to let off some internal steam. Wounds and pains are inevitable, and healing can involve intense anguish and torment.

On my part, I try to give them the tools and the weapons to grow and to face life in all its possibilities. These are mainly spiritual and supernatural—doctrines, skills in praying, making sacrifices, practices of piety, developing virtues, etc.

I’m most happy when I see they are learning to put Christian meaning to everything in their life—their work and study, their personal and social circumstances, their ups and downs, etc.

When I see that they know how to convert their defects and failures into sources of strength—echoing St. Paul’s “It’s when I’m weak that I’m strong”—because they are humble, they ask for forgiveness and do something about their mistakes, then I know they are truly maturing.

When some alumni come to visit, I am happy of course to learn that they have somehow prospered materially and financially. I share their thrill when they begin their career and start receiving their salaries.

But it’s their spiritual growth that I’m most keen at knowing. When the picture in this regard is not good, they don’t go without a strong reminder or even a scolding. In most cases, they are thankful for this treatment, and they come back.

That’s why graduations make me cry. It’s a joy drenched in tears. There’s a sense of fulfillment, even as suspense that seeks outlet in prayer rises to another level.