:: [Guest post by Tracy Balzer] ::
My family thinks I have a heart of steel.
And it’s true. I rarely cry in sad movies. I’m a rock at funerals. I’m an off-the-chart “T” in the Myers-Briggs world, with no visible “F”. It’s sort of embarrassing, really, especially as someone who claims to be following a ministerial call. Shouldn’t those of a pastoral ilk show more than a little bit of emotion now and then?
But today I’ve got my supply of Kleenex at the ready. This is the day when the Iron Maiden turns into a blob of jello. It’s the day our graduating seniors are awarded all kinds of honors, and we follow with a Baccalaureate service of praise. Tomorrow they’ll walk across the stage as their names are called, having completed their four years with us. And I will blubber like a baby.
This is an annual occurrence for me, the time of year when my calling as a campus minister is absolutely confirmed and affirmed. Because I’m reminded that I’ve had the honor of really getting inside some of these hearts and minds that will be graduating. They’ve shared their stories with me, we’ve prayed together. I’ve read their reflective journals in class, and watched them wrestle with God. There is nothing that touches my heart more deeply than growth – watching a college student take a few more steps toward God, and seeing His hope in their eyes as they grab hold of that diploma.
