He sat just down in front, our senior and second, a.k.a. Kid Kaboom. Sedate, standing tall, he’d taken his place on the ramp, awaiting his name, his time, his turn. Smiling again, shaking hands, he’d received the priceless paper before moving across the stage. All at once, smack dab in the middle, a fist shot high, leg cranked up, arm coming down, triumphant. “Ka-ching!!” And with a little swagger, he made his way, stage left, down front.
It was his swan call, the encore to a thrilling career on the stage at NorthWood High School. One more time, the audience laughed. One more time, he’d done it. One last time. It was vintage Kid Kaboom.
Perhaps one of the most poignant moments of the evening came, quite literally, at the end of the line. Two at a time, the rows had lined up, the best and brightest sprinkled in among the average, all awaiting that diploma. And at the end,that one…
Oh, that “one,” clearly not the best or the brightest by human standards; this “one” wasn’t even average. While his peers marched proudly across the stage, boys in sensible dress shoes, girls teetering high on heels, this one took his place in a wheelchair pushed by an aide.
Mouth open, head twisted in that way of the severely handicapped, he was clothed, like his peers, in a gown. Oh, someone had cared about him, this not-average boy, to have him dressed like that…
His hand, misshapen, was twisted and claw like. Watching his aide, handsome, respectful in suit and tie, a fond compassion shown on his features. And then it was his turn, his time, his name.
Receiving his certificate, there they went, the kind gentleman pushing his charge carefully across the stage. And then it came. That twisted, contractured hand shot up, “Ka-ching!!” His face, contorted, beamed with a 1000-watt smile, and applause, spontaneous, sustained, filled the gym.
Tears rolled (I’ll admit it) for the not-average boy who would never dance and never sing, but who, for one shining moment, knew the thrill of victory. Of accomplishment. Of “well done” and “yee-haw!”
I’m thankful today for my own bright boy. For his legs that dance and his voice that sings, all the time, everywhere, day and night, night and day. I’m thankful for the work of God in his life and for what he means in ours.
All is well, and all shall be well.
Happy Monday! FacebookTwitterGoogle+DiggPinterestBlogger Here he is, our beaming grad with a friend and former neighbor who, along with her sister, diligently TP’d the Schrock trees on multiple occasions. Little Schrock, never one to be left out, snuck, mouse like, into the corner.