It’s just a key.
Just a key to a little mailbox, number 524. Right next to the post office window, so that any time I wanted to check it I had to wait in the line behind everyone picking up packages.
Just a key, and not anything I have ever cared about.
But today, I turned my key in. I said goodbye to the college where I have been pushed and pulled.
Where I have grown in a million little ways. Where I said things I am proud of and things I didn’t mean. Where a foundation was laid, where I saw God. Where I met my husband and my best friend. Where I won and lost and cried and laughed and praised and cried out. Where I learned about Ghana and orphans and widows. Where I felt my call to be a missionary, wherever I am.
I stood in line one last time, and I checked my mailbox, and then I turned my key in. Severing my last tie as a student here at Campbellsville, I signed the form and got my receipt.
It’s silly the feelings turning my key in brought up, but there it was: my student days are done. I’m so thankful and blessed.
Isn’t it funny how little, insignificant things can make you stop and think? The key doesn’t matter, and I don’t care about the mailbox. But here it is, in black and white on my receipt: Graduation. Moving on.