Being on the faculty afforded me prime seating for graduation. I watched the young ladies in floor length dresses lift their rippling skirts as they ascended two steps. The young men strode across the stage with purpose. I was able to look into each graduate's face as she or he clasped the principal's hand. Sometimes they exchanged a few words. Then they paused and posed in the clear line of the photographer who nabbed the moment for prosperity.

 

It was fun to witness their smiles and sense of accomplishment. But there was something even dearer. 

 

Peeking at the clusters of fan clubs.

 

Moms, dads, grandparents, siblings, cousins, and aunts sat in rows of folding chairs with a crescendo of anticipation. Everyone was showered, shod, and dressed to put on the party. 

 

One tribe had staked out a premium spot, probably because as it turned out their celebrity was valedictorian. Quite a funny one, too. While he spoke under the full awareness that a thousand people were watching, his parents had no cause to dim their exuberance with a shade of self consciousness. Their joy spilled out like a fountain, as the apple of their eye delivered his speech with dry wit and perfect timing. 

 

Who was happier? 

 

There are no barometers for such things. You can't simply squeeze on a thingamajig on your finger and have a monitor calibrate the saturation of your delight. 

 

But if I had to pick, which I don't, I'd go with the parents. While it is fantastic to sail on the complete satisfaction that comes from reaching your goal, being in the wings while someone you adore steps into the limelight is another level of nirvana. This child, your child, the one who has annoyed you, mystified you, worried you, thrown their chubby arms around your neck, rebelled against you, called you names, reached for you. But all of that melts like frost in the morning sun. Underneath the uncertainty and failure, you realize that the only thing you ever wanted was their happiness. And right now, in this place, at this moment, they are. Wishing for someone you love to be joyful is even sweeter that chasing your own. 

 

Which sets me a wondering. Is it also possible, probable even, that my own Loving Parent experiences my fulfillment to an exponential degree? I am not merely speaking of the mother and father who faltered and slipped in raising me. In watching me reach the capacity of my desires, does God's heart expand to an even greater bliss?