Even 
After
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth, 
“You owe me.”
Look
What happens
With a love like that,It lights the whole sky.
~ Hafiz

Dear Springhouse community,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am just returning from celebrating our son’s college graduation in Hoboken, NJ and New York City. It was surreal to witness my son at this threshold and precious to be with him, his girlfriend, and our family. It feels good to be back in the rolling hills of Floyd County and to reflect on the lessons learned while I was away.  

It was a rainy and cold week in NYC. On the morning of graduation, we all suited up in our raincoats and ponchos, and headed to the ceremony about an hour outside of the city. After standing in some long lines, we finally made it to our seats in the covered amphitheater. My family, along with many other families, were nestled together as we awaited the opening processional where we might catch a glimpse of our graduates. Even with cold and wet weather, I could feel the excitement, and even more so, the love present in that place. 

The ceremony was three hours long and people were doing all kinds of things to pass the time–heading to the snack bar to get hot pretzels and a cup of coffee, scrolling on their phones, and whispering to each other to pass the time. When the time came for the students to process across the stage, the crowd became more still and quiet–ready and waiting for the name of their graduate to be called. 

When we heard the name of our son’s college was announced, my family and I were at attention. We moved to the edge of our seats, some of us readied our phones, and we focused. When we received a text from our son that he was still seated, we sank back in our seats, and waited. When we got the text from him that he was heading up to the stage, we were back at attention, on the edge of the seats, readying ourselves for the 3-second moment when he would cross the stage, shake the hand of the faculty chair, and receive his diploma. 

When the moment finally came, we sprang out of our seats, and screamed our lungs out with love. “Let’s go, Andrew!” “We love you!” “Woohoo!” The moment passed as quickly as it came and we wondered what we would do for the next hour as we sat in our plastic ponchos. Then came the lesson, when the guy sitting behind me leaned forward and said, “I was screaming too. I wanted to help you all.” This man did not know my son. He did not know any of us, and yet in an amphitheater in New Jersey, he was screaming his head off for him. This man’s choice to support us in showing love for our son gave me pause. I was in the presence of a different kind of love–one that was less personal, and more universal. 

As the ceremony continued, I could see families come off the edges of their seats after the name of their graduate was called, relax from a state of attention, and wait for the end of the ceremony to come. The faculty made it very clear that the graduates must stay until all graduates have crossed the stage. They said it is important that the last graduate has as much of our support as the first graduate. In other words, they asked us to care as much for the collective as we did for the individual we came there for. So, my family and I got some snacks and hot coffee, and hung in for the duration. Then it occurred to me, I didn’t need to just sit and wait it out. I could learn from the guy behind us and join in on the cheering around me. 

The family in front of us had been waiting a while for their graduate to cross the stage. It was obvious the time was coming close when they moved to the edge of their seats, primed their phones for photo-taking, and held their breath with excitement. My family and I took the position too, and moved to the edge of our seats, and waited. When the moment came, we screamed for joy with them. 

When we know and love the person we cheer for, it brings us alive as an individual person and family. When we cheer for those we do not know personally, it brings us alive as a collective. This kind of love blurs the lines and brings us together. The screaming, and even drum playing (someone broke out a djembe drum and started playing when his person crossed), is an expression of the love we feel for our person at the threshold. It felt fantastic to celebrate my son, scream at the top of my lungs and jump up and down for him. When I clapped and shouted for someone I did not know personally, it felt different. They were both important and I think one might stem from the other. 

Love is contagious. It starts close in (as close in as ourselves), and ripples out. If we let it, love can move from the personal to the universal. When the guy behind us joined in the cheering and love we have for our son, he set an example. He showed us what is possible when it comes to loving each other. His small action woke me up to the fact that we can love in ways that are a testament to how boundless love really is. 

Love is generous. It is time to let the love we naturally have for those in our personal sphere spill out beyond it. If we have not yet learned to love ourselves and families well, then that is where our work begins. The more we practice loving those close in including ourselves, the more we fill up with love. Like water in a pitcher, that love spills out in ways we could not have imagined. 

Sadly, we live in a time where love is not intentionally part of the curriculum. If it was, we would be living in a different world. We need more places that invite us to practice love–the personal and universal kind. At Springhouse, we see this practice as foundational to all that we do. We are confident in our vision, mission, values, and strategy; not just the adults, but our teens too. Here is what the teens have to say about what we are up to: 

“Springhouse teaches you to respect other people who are different from us without judging and they teach you to be yourself and create community.”

“Many schools are driven by tests and grades, but we invest in the well-being and potential of each person. Supporting our school means supporting a different kind of education–one that values connection, purpose, and the future we want to build together.”

“Every Friday morning the high school students and facilitators dance together. This creates a connection to both myself and others that I have never experienced before.”

“I’ve learned how to work with others better, how to speak up, and how to take care of myself and the people around me.”  

June is a big month for us when we hold our one and only annual fundraiser. I hope you will consider giving to a place that does not waver in its commitment to put love first.

With love and gratitude,

Jenny

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