Graduating “forward”
This essay was first published on The Daily BS on May 31, 2025.
This week, a very precious, very long chapter in the life of our family ended. For 29 years, the obligatory “first day of school” photos were an annual event. A post from August 2012 went like this, “The Class of 2017 and Class of 2025 go to school.” The accompanying photos showed the incoming eighth grader and his little brother, Mr. Kindergarten, as the big, yellow bus rolled up.
Watching that tiny boy, laden with a red backpack, follow his brother up the steep bus steps, it seemed like we had all the time in the world. That Pomp and Circumstance was a long way off. That the golden days would last forever. Then we blinked, and they were gone. Soon, his brothers will be home to celebrate this one who came to us late, but—as we know and believe—at the perfect time.
By every account, his high-school career has been a smashing success. The awards wall at his open house will be papered with certificates and plaques—Scholar Athlete, Science Student of the Month, Principal’s Honor Roll, Master Thespian, Most Improved (XC), Captain’s Award, and the Positive Mental Attitude Award (Choir), just to name a few. Further, the credits on his transcript will include honors classes and college courses. His hard work is readily apparent.
What no certificate or plaque can show, though, is the depth of his true success. Last fall during a cross-country race, he collapsed. Thanks to a competitor who carried him up to the finish line, he crossed it on hands and knees. That story is here.
The next day as we waited in a doctor’s office to begin a battery of tests, I looked at my blue-eyed son. “You are one strong, resilient guy,” I said.
In his teenage monotone, he replied, “The only thing in my mind was ‘forward.’”
“Forward!” This one, powerful word has become the theme of his life. Through incredibly hard classes that required great sacrifice and many late nights. Through teenage struggles and disappointments. Through subsequent races and battles with fear, he’s shown us all how “forward” looks, one step, one challenge at a time.
His peers have found him to be a confidant, a repository for their own struggles and concerns. Because he is happily secure and confident, free to be exactly who and what he is, others feel that same freedom in his presence. His signature wit is both a natural anesthetic and a lovely connector to adults and students alike. By his very being alone, he is a healer.
All of this has me reflecting on the definition of success. Curious, I reached out to my readers. “How would you define success? Put another way, ‘I will know I’ve been successful when/if___.’” Here are some of their replies.
“(If) I’ve made a positive difference in people’s lives.” This came from a teacher.
“When…I see that I’ve changed. That others around me have changed. And we’re still moving forward.”
“When the people around me understand the truth and their lives are changed because of it, and the process repeats itself from their lives impacting others…” This, from a pastor.
“Knowing I’ve made the road a little easier and more joyful for those on the road of life with me. Having raised children that are joyful, ethical, and have a deep reserve of inner strength and wisdom.” A mother offered this.
One gentleman volunteered a different perspective. By looking, first, at failure, he could more easily define success. “Failure, to me, is someone who’s given up, is staying put and not trying. So personal success to me is someone who has achieved the ability to never give up and can push forward and persevere…(who) is teachable and has learned to see the positive in any situation.”
“I look at success as something that can be true in every step of your life.” Whether just starting a business, a relationship, or anything new, if you appreciate what you have and are thankful for the small things, you will feel successful. This wisdom came from a hairdresser who knows what it is to start something small.
A nurse chimed in. “(If) I can look back on a life well lived and say, ‘I have loved well.’” Echoing closely her sentiment, someone else added, “(If) other people live a fuller, healthier life because of knowing and being loved by me.”
It was a worthy exercise, and I’m glad that I asked the question. The truth is that one day, all of the award certificates and plaques will be packed away. Others will forget what we achieved, but they will not forget who we were and how we lived. Or rather, how we loved.
Success does not lie in the way of perfection. When we fail or hard things come, we will see what we are made of, for they reveal what we harbor inside. As my son said later, “I didn’t know I had that in me.”
That’s what I mean. The painful collapse taught him something about himself that he didn’t know. It showed him that he had a deep inner resilience, a stubborn perseverance that would carry him across the finish line even if it meant he had to crawl, one painful arm length at a time.
One day, we shall graduate from this earth and into eternity. We do not have to run a perfect race, but if we continue to grow in faith and love, we will hear the words that will be worth it all, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Now enter in.”
As my son said it, “Forward!” All the way to heaven.
If you want to hear America’s small, caffeinated mom discuss the week’s essay at length, tune in to the James Golden Radio Show every Saturday morning or catch it on your favorite podcast platform.