To Graduates: Swing Away!

My eldest, Katie, graduated from Anderson University a couple of weeks ago and is currently in Australia, living one of her life's dreams: feeding wallabies and holding koalas.

It's not hard for me to imagine Katie doing that; all I have to do is recall her in a plaid sundress feeding her stuffed animals with a pink plastic spoon about 19 years ago, and I can see it clearly.

For her graduation, I wrote Katie a letter, excerpted here, that I'd like to share with moms and graduates:

Author Marilyn Ferguson said, "It's not so much that we're afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it's that place in between that we fear. It's like being between trapezes."

That's where you are right now, graduate, letting go of the bar behind you, anticipating that second swing to take you to your future. In this split second of your life, you're precariously suspended in air, hoping all the preparation you've done won't fail you when your big moment arrives.

Don't be afraid to grab the incoming bar and swing away! You're more capable than you know. When you're apprehensive, remember that the power of Christ is in you, giving you his wisdom, helping you accomplish his purpose in your life: "For it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose" ( Philippians 2:13). When you surrender your life to Christ, the task ahead of you is never greater than the power in you (1 John 4:4b).

CS Lewis said, "We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."

Well, no one wants to see you "go bad!" I'm glad you're not in diapers or braces anymore, although I miss my little girl so much sometimes. But it's been fun watching you hatch into such a great young woman.

When you were small, I tried to save you every bump and bruise, believing that as long as you were an arm's length away, nothing could harm you. You didn't even go to the mailbox unwatched by my loving eye.

When you started driving and filling out college applications, I realized that from then on, you would be farther than my arm's reach and eye's sight for the rest of your life.

I was forced to recognize that not only was I not in control of every influence and circumstance around you, but that I never was. Moms only like to think we are in control, which is silly because the truth is that someone much greater and wiser is in control. As Emerson said, "All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen."

And so I learned to let go of you bit by bit, which is what's supposed to happen in families. I let go of my own trapeze, believing that God would see both of us through to what lay ahead knowing, "He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion" (Philippians 1:6).

So congratulations to my beautiful graduate — to all graduates.

You were born to fly for His glory -- swing away!

Linda Crow, of Muncie, is the mother of three and works in youth ministry. Visit her blog at www.2nd-cup-of-coffee.blogspot.com.

About Me

I remember watching the clock tick toward recess in the 2nd grade and then making a beeline for the paper my teacher kept on the windowsill in the back of the room. “Let them play kickball,” I would say to myself, “I will write stories!” Yes, I have been an English major nerd my entire life. I not only embrace the nerdiness but revel in it. Soul Mate? Perhaps Garrison Keillor--Patron Saint of English Majors.

I thought I would teach high school English, but I married my college sweetheart and soon began a family which has grown into:


A 22 year-old recent college graduate daughter (an English major, no less) who is my pride and joy.












A 20 year-old son who draws the line at snacking on anything nonporous, excels at lifting heavy weights such as dumbbells and his mother but not heavy clothes hampers or trash cans.












A 16 year-old, quiet, unassuming girl who likes to startle her family by randomly bursting into Ethel Merman-esque Broadway tunes.












My husband, referred to as "Jorge the Jabanero" on my blog, speaks a strange language called “math,” which has made for some zany communication attempts between us. Here he is in our 1981 high school newspaper after being voted "best male body." I told you he was hot.








Thus, there are five people in my family, plus one dog and one other intrusive entity who moved in in 1986 and never left: Laundry Pile.

I reside in Muncie, Indiana, home of the Garfield the Cat and Ball State University, of which I am an alum. I work in a large youth ministry called "Oneighty" because one cannot have too many teenagers in one’s life. I’m a regular contributor to Christian Women Online’s Devotional “Internet Café,” and I also write a small column for the local newspaper, which I am “scrapbooking” on this blog.

Reared in a Christian home, I completely surrendered my life to Jesus in college and then lived a fulfilling life mothering my kids full time for many years.

In my early thirties, I encountered the most difficult period in my life, the onset of clinical depression. I can personally verify Psalm 34:17-19: "Unless the Lord had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death. When I said, 'My foot is slipping,' your love, O LORD, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.” It was a long, arduous struggle, but God was faithful.

Although I'm not sure who he is, I agree with William Davis who is credited with saying, “The kind of humor I like is the thing that makes me laugh for five seconds and then think for ten minutes.” I aspire to write in that vein in my columns. My goal is to entertain and encourage readers, share life's ironies, point readers to Jesus without preaching, and to live long enough to see my children have teenagers of their own.

Finally, Erma Bombeck is my writing hero. But Dave Barry is a close runner-up because he autographed his book to me, "Linda, you are a goddess." Nevermind that he writes that phrase every time he signs anyone’s book. If Dave Barry likes me in a totally abstract, non-personal, doesn't-even-know-I-exist way, I hope I can win you over, too.