Vancouver, June 17-19

As a graduation present, my parents treated me to an epic international journey commemorating their and Christian Edition's 30th anniversary. While it was quite a crunch to turn around from the graduation weekend celebrations to a ten-day journey, it was well worth it. We were privileged to have my great grandmother traveling with us, and she made a good trip a great trip.

Like usual, we started our trek with very little sleep. In the pre-dawn darkness we unloaded our suitcases at the Oakland Airport, where we discovered that our flight to Seattle was delayed. So, we ended up taking a different route to Seattle--through Reno. In both airports, the Southwest Airlines counters were festooned with balloons and streamers. It is the airline's 40th birthday, and it's still going strong. When I read that it was established on June 18, I thought, "Hm, what a coincidence." That happens to be my parents' anniversary.

The Reno airport was surprisingly beautiful; whoever designed it was clearly trying to emulate its natural surroundings. When we arrived in Sea-Tac, it felt surprisingly homey. There, we met up with a few of our friends who had also chosen to save money on this trip by flying Southwest and boarded a "Quick Shuttle." That name is a lie, for it wasn't quick at all. After four hours with Canadian customs as our only stop, we stumbled, exhausted, out of the bus at our hotel on the outskirts of Vancouver, BC.

It was surreal to see a Costco across the street, which made it hard to believe that we were, in fact, in a foreign country. Even the restaurant across the street where we had dinner betrayed little cultural different, except for the higher sales tax. The next morning on our way to church we had a chance to see more of the city, though. Many of the houses are hidden by tall hedges.

The morning service was at Oakdale Adventist Church, a charming community that loves its priase music and mentioned several times its embarrassment over the riots that broke out when the Canucks lost the Stanley Cup that week. Those of us from California found this interesting because minor sports-related riots seem to break out in Oakland and Los Angeles on a regular basis without a single blush of shame. In Vancouver, everyone from the journalists writing the paper to the leaders at church publicly expressed embarrassment, even repentance over the riot. It was kind of refreshing to run into a culture that still has a conscience about sports riots. The church leaders asked us to remember them not for the riot, but for the volunteers who cleaned up after it and in their prayers, they asked God for forgiveness.

It was actually Christian Edition's first international service, and it was kind of refreshing to see them through the eyes of a congregation that had never heard much about us before. They received us warmly and treated us to a wonderful potluck afterwards. It impressed me that they held it in a fellowship hall that had been empty and bare at 10:30 that morning. I've never seen a church turn a room that quickly.

After a brief respite at the hotel, we headed out again to a Filipino SDA church. It was a challenging venue, with seats clear back to the street entrance, but the people were friendly and hospitable. We had to put the CD tables on the front porch, it was so crowded, but that was fine because it allowed those working there to get some fresh air. Across the street, there was a beautiful clock tower that I enjoyed photographing. Before the worship service, we were surprised to hear a women's group singing an almost note-by-note transliteration of the Christian Edition arrangement of "Bow the Knee" to the track of my father playing. It was surreal, but kind of cool.

At the end of the concert, instead of playing his usual "Joy" postlude, my father tapped out a more mellow tune. Afterwards, he explained to the congregation that the piece was called "Candles," and he wrote it for my mother for their wedding at Wawona thirty years ago. Congratulations, Mom and Dad. Here's to thirty years more.

The trip back to the hotel was lengthy due to traffic, but it gave us a wonderful view of Vancouver's most beautiful bridges in the flickering twilight. The next morning, we packed our bags and boarded the Celebrity cruise ship Century, destined for Alaska. The launch was most impressive, as we passed under one of Vancouver's larger bridges.

After a sumptuous dinner, we had a meet-and-greet in a room called the Hemisphere. As a thank-you gift for filling rooms, the cruise line provided free non-alcoholic drinks to all present for an hour. Director Calvin Knipschild explained some of the mechanics of the week and introduced the guest artists: violinist Jaime Jorge, soprano Jennifer LaMountain, preacher Karl Haffner, and his own daughter, Deanne Knipschild. My parents and I watched the sun set at sea from the great windows of the Hemisphere as we caught up with some old friends.

That night, as I relaxed while listening to the ship's musicians play salsa music, I thought, "I am definitely going to enjoy this cruise more than the last one."

Indeed, I did. The adventure was just beginning.

College Graduation

The screen seemed to blur as I submitted the paper to Dropbox, PUC's electronic homework system. For a moment, I froze in shock. Was that really the last one? Was that really the last paper of college? Suddenly, the world seemed so bright and full of delicious possibilities. "Now I can write and read whatever I want at whatever pace I want," I thought with glee. I resisted the temptation to run out to the Healdsburg Bell right away, and waited until noon the next day instead. There, my friends Fallon and Tawnya watched as I rang it five times, following a custom the class of 2005 started, to ring it for each year of college. (I count my three quarters of summer school as a year.)

It was a week of lasts, some more difficult than others. A last visit to Giugni's, a last game of chess in a coffee shop, a last conversation with the outgoing Professor McDowell, a last project at the Heritage Room, a last midnight vigil at the front desk of the library, a last journal entry by the Paulin Hall fountain, a last night living in Graf Hall. Each last felt like a memorial service--joyous while tinged with sadness. The power of graduation exercises rests in the ability to celebrate the work that got you to that point without saying, "Leave and never come back."

I did not expect commencement practice to be so fun. By some miracle, I managed to get the perfect seat--second row in the middle. On the way out of practice, I ran into my old friend Alexandra, who I met at Wawona four years ago. She joined us for the aforementioned Giugni's sandwich and chess game. Coming back up the hill, we got out of the car to take a walk to where Old Howell Mountain Road had washed out. I didn't expect it to be so impressive; it stopped at a twenty-food drop quite abruptly. Walking around it, we got the most stunningly beautiful view of the lakes beyond it.

At Senior Consecration that evening, I was minding my own business, talking to my family when my friend Cristina texted me to tell me they needed someone to do the benediction. I was dressed very, very casually and not a little self-conscious about it, but I accepted anyway. I enjoyed watching Cristina's heartfelt speech, Groschel's praise band, and Loni's slideshow. That beautifully captured the grand variety of things we'll all miss at PUC, and I hope she mails us all a copy. Pastor Ice's sermon was a great reminder that God has plans for all of us, and then it was my turn, then it was all over.

After a rehearsal for a choral piece the next day, I sat in the moonlight by the fountain, writing in my journal. Although I call that a last, I would like to think it isn't.

Lining up for Baccalaureate felt like navigating the County Fair. There was definitely a contagiously cheerful mood in the air, which my Honors teachers would call "effervescence" (proving once again that a college education just gives you fancier words for things you already know exist). Marching between Annalisa (who survived all my language classes with me) and Charles (who pulled me into his film projects freshman year) was a great feeling, and we sat in front of the only other Theology major graduating this year, my friend Jose Baltodano. His children joined him halfway through the service, and they were adorable. Annalisa and I sang Beck's "Consecration" and listened attentively as Pastor Henderson gave another of his Baccalaureate addresses. I found it elegant, how he said, "Life happens" where I would say, "Stuff happens."

In the sun-lit courtyard afterwards, I met my Spencer grandparents, who had made a two- or three-day drive from the desert to watch me graduate. They were beaming with pride. Down in Napa, I devoured the picnic meal, starving after all the marching and singing, and then I was human enough to talk to the various relatives who had assembled. On my way back up the hill, I was seized with a sudden, dire impulse to go to Elmshaven, so I did. By some miracle, the tour guides were still there, and one of them let me in. I took a closer look at Ellen White's ministerial credentials, and without so many distracting people trying to say differently in my ears, the document spoke for itself. The word "Ordained" was NOT crossed out. I don't know why, but that was important for me to see before graduating.

Commencement morning, I got ready to the strains of Les Miserables and Ragtime. Whenever I'm at a crossroads in life, I like to listen to bits of these two musicals. They help me review the past and look towards the future. I savored the walk up to Commencement Grove, taking the time to stop more than I would have otherwise, appreciating the natural beauty of the walk.

Drowning in leis, I almost teared up while I watched the faculty processional, lead by my own mentor Dr. Widmer carrying the PUC banner. The library staff were equally difficult for me. The crowd was a blur as I marched to my seat, where the tortilla wars began as soon as the service did. (Before you ask me where on earth this custom came from, I don't know. Pester my now-former boss at the Heritage Room with it.) What they say about graduation is true; I honestly don't remember much about the valedictorian's speech or even the commencement address (though I remember a little more about that). I do remember seeing the check for the Irwin Hall renovation presented to President Knight. That was a big moment for those of us who supported the renovations and voted in the partnership with the Student Senate.

When it was time to present the diplomas (or rather, diploma cases), one of the last individual faces I registered was that of my department chair, Dr. Ranzolin. The view from the platform is quite impressive, and I wished I had a camera on me to photograph it. When Nancy LeCourt read my name and honors, was she slowing it down or was I imagining it? As I received my diploma from President Knight, she whispered, "We'll miss you." Sincerely, I whispered back, "I'll miss you, too."

The recessional went by quickly, and I must've spent a solid hour afterwards thanking, congratulating, or just greeting everyone I wanted to catch before they left. I have been insanely lucky to have so many wonderful people in my life, and none of the tassels which threatened to strangle me this weekend would have been possible without all those people. As I walked down the hill, I plotted to return to PUC, which may or may not happen, but hey, it's a nice thought. It was hard to check out of Graf and force myself to drive off the campus.

That blow was softened by the incredible party my family had put together for me. If the decorations had been white, I might've mistaken it for a modest wedding reception. There was even a full-color banner saying, "Congratulations, Jillian!" and the gorgeous (and delicious) red velvet graduation cake said the same. There were elaborately-placed streamers on the windows.

The food was delicious, and just what I needed after the physical exertion of walking up and down the hill, wandering around the grove, and moving heavy objects out of my room in Graf. I dug into the Caesar salad, the grilled vegetables, the Walla Walla loaf, and the bread with great alacrity. It's a sign of real hunger when I actually finish cake after all of that. They made me make the first cut in the cake, which I felt rather silly doing, but I humored them.

The gifts were generous and useful. I have already enjoyed playing with a few of them. After opening them all, I gave a brief but heartfelt speech of appreciation for everything they'd all done for me. Now, I'd like to do the same here. Each of you has had a part to play in this. I could not have done college without your help, support, listening ears, and prayer. Even though many of you have given or sent me gifts, I feel rather like I owe each of you gifts. The degree and tassels are not mine, but the product of a large community that has informed, guided, and inspired me every step of the way. Thank you.

I love you all so much.