Bubbles Astream

Graduation is probably the saddest happy time in a teacher’s year. One after another, dozens of black-robed, tassel-hatted students march across a stage and out of our lives. For 13 years, these youngsters have been capturing the hearts of their teachers. Then they’re gone, out into the big, wide world to live their lives and follow their dreams.

The thing I hate the most about teaching is that I forget my students. When they’re in my class, I love them fiercely. I can’t imagine ever forgetting them. Yet, the next year, learning 100+ new names seems to drive out the previous 100+ names. And soon, although faces may remain familiar, names fade and disappear.

I don’t understand it. They’re too precious to forget. But I forget them, anyway. I hate that!

This Ephemeral Existence

There seem to be a lot of similar, heart-wrenching situations in life. Friends and family move away, a child marries and leaves the home; a dear co-worker takes a position in another company; and, of course, death is the most painful of these occasions.

Over and over and over again, it’s “here today; gone tomorrow.”

You might say we’re like bubbles on a rain-swollen stream:

A Ballad of Bubbles

It’s a swift stream, a dingy stream, flowing smoothly in its gutter alongside the concrete street. And this new-formed river is fed by the summer rain. It’s an easy rain without turbulence, without fury - each drop slipping silently, gently into the swelling waters.

But sometimes, with a splash, a bubble forms. One moment, it does not exist, then with the thud of a raindrop a small capsule of air appears as if by magic, floating on the tide. Without a moment’s hesitation, the bubble is on its way, borne downstream on the rushing waters.

Then suddenly, almost before it has had time to exist, the bubble bursts. The thin film of its capsule sinks back into formlessness in the swirling stream. And although the shape has changed, the same mass remains. Lost in the uniformity of its companions, it still exists and plays its role in feeding the growing stream.

The rushing water continues down the street, growing larger with each raindrop, transporting its transient, airy passengers until it reaches a drain and is swallowed in the darkness.

I think God must see us much as I have seen those bubbles. Yesterday, there was ageless, endless eternity. Then God created a Stream of Life. He feeds it in a way that only He knows.

Like the bubbles, we appear, suddenly like a miracle, drifting with the tide, accompanied by our companions, coming and going on every side. Then, just as miraculously, after only a moment of time, we pass out of sight.

Bubbles pop. People die. Yet we are not gone. We are only changed in form. We become one with all those who have gone before. And the Stream of Life grows bigger and stronger from the contributions we make. Then like that river of rainwater, we, too, are carried along relentlessly toward eternity until one day this Stream of Life will cascade into the boundlessness of infinity.

And it will not seem odd, at all, that tomorrow God will go out. The light of His glory will be radiant. And the old Earth will be gone.

Sometimes, endings feel unbearable. A bride leaves the groom, waiting alone at the church. A military family moves to Okinawa, leaving Granny and Grandad on the other side of the world. Best friends argue and their fight becomes irreconcilable. A cancer diagnosis puts an end to retirement plans. A beloved husband dies after 60 years of marriage.

Can you imagine how Jesus’ followers felt when He died – when GOD died? Is a new sunrise even possible after God has died? Has anyone in the modern ever world had to deal with a more devastating blow?

Adjust the Paradigm

But we can take the apostles for our model. After they coped with the agony of loss, they gathered in an upper room and got a new lease on life. In fact, they moved into a whole new adventure, empowered by the Holy Spirit of God.

The Lord will do the same for all of us, I believe. He will comfort us through the pain. Then if we let Him, He will give us new visions, new plans, new friends, new hope.

My mother almost never used the term “graduation.” Instead, she said “commencement.” It annoyed me a little bit at the time. It seemed like she was just trying to be different, maybe a little pretentious. But now, I’m thinking – she may have been onto something.

Let’s not focus on endings. Let’s put the spotlight on new opportunities, new dreams, and new beginnings. For example, graduation truly is the end of a crucial period of life. But it’s so much more. It’s the commencement of everything our education prepared us to do and be.

So, whatever crushing loss you may be dealing with today, I hope you will lean into the Lord for solace, then let Him lead you into the new beginning – the commencement – He has planned for you.

Is it time? Are you ready? Are the tears spent?

Okay, chin up. Take a deep breath. Put your hand in His hand. Step out…

Goodbye class of 2022. Hello, class of 2023.

Photo credits: Graduation picture by krutz 27 on pixabay and Raindrops by sourabhkrishna 806 on pixabay