Anchorage Daily News

HAINES -- Baccalaureate is supposed to be a church service to bless the senior class, but this year the graduates blessed us instead.

The event, sponsored by the ministerial association and held in the Presbyterian Church, began with a welcome from Mark Jones, the pastor of the Cornerstone Foursquare Gospel Church.

Then he picked up an electric guitar, his wife, Frankie, grabbed a tambourine, the Salvation Army captain settled in behind the drum kit, and Theresa Land took her seat at the keyboard. On Sunday mornings, she plays for the Presbyterian and Assembly of God churches. (She does the first half of the service at one, then runs over and plays the second half at the other.) They rocked through a few pop Christian tunes as the lyrics were projected on an overhead screen.

Afterward, my friend Darlene said, "I thought of you as soon as I saw the drummer." She teases me about how traditional I am. At my Episcopal church, "Hail Thee Festival Day" on Easter morning is about as peppy as it gets. Still, Frankie and the band did their best to rouse us. No one danced in the pews, but at least one Presbyterian sang along.

A huge white cruise ship, illuminated by the western sun, steamed past the window behind the altar, as the Presbyterian minister gave a sermon advising the graduates to make the most of today rather than put things off until tomorrow and, if they haven't already, to begin a conversation with God. Then Bibles were given to the students, the Catholic deacon said a closing prayer and lasagnas smelled done.

Dinner was served across the street at the Alaska Native Brotherhood Hall. In the church, we had seemed a small group (there are 31 seniors) but here, we were a crowd. The food was great, the company better, but when Frankie said it was time to "share blessings," I squirmed.

Other parents jumped right up. The mother of a star on our state championship basketball team said her son had always had "that athletic strut, even with a loaded diaper."

The mother of the valedictorian, a boy who had to choose between Cornell, Stanford and Dartmouth, believes that our offspring find us before they are born. "I think your children do pick you out," she said, and then she looked at her good son and said, "Thank you for picking me."

When one dad who's about to send his youngest daughter off to college said, "A family couldn't have had a better group of kids for their child to grow up with," I wanted to add, "Or a better group of parents to help them do it." We adults may not be seeing as much of each other either, without our children's activities in common.

The dad of another graduate, whose wife was away, read a note from her, per her instructions, about how proud they are of their son. Then he put away the script and said that, as most of us know, he has a bad heart. He had his first heart attack when his son was 3. He prayed to live long enough to see him graduate from high school. "Well, I've got two days to go." Everyone laughed, but I bet I wasn't the only one who thought how right the minister was: Each day does count, and when you add them up, they make a whole life.

This class includes very smart, athletic and creative students. They are award-winning distance runners, ballplayers, actors and artists. One girl was accepted at the Navy and Coast Guard academies. A retired teacher said they remind him of his own decline. Back when he taught them second grade, he was "the best mathematician, the fastest runner, even the best basketball player. Now look at you, and look at me, I'm completely overshadowed."

Then he said, "I think we do look for meaning in our children." When he and his wife got that first picture of their infant son, who was born in Korea, the letter with it explained that his name, translated into English, meant "bright future." He started to say more about their son's plans for film school next year but couldn't.

It's so hard to articulate what you feel under pressure, and even harder when it is supposed to be a kind of goodbye. I am so glad my daughter's going to college. It's just that she has grown up so fast, and since she's the fourth of five siblings, I worry that I may have missed some things. Also, I'd like a few do-overs. Like the only family trip we took to Disneyland, when I promised she'd be able to swim outside, but the hotel pool was being tiled and had no water in it.

My friends say these new, quick tears are hormonal. I'll be 49 in June. But I think it is more than that. Some hearts harden with age, but mine has gotten softer, because of the good and the not-so-good times and especially because of my children and their classmates. As the Presbyterian minister said in the final blessing, while we held hands and closed our eyes: "Thank you for these young people that you have given us to raise." Amen.

Heather Linde lives and writes in Haines and is the author of "If You Lived Here, I'd Know Your Name. She can be reached at hlende@adnmail.com

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