#reckoning2016

[reckoningeverymile]

Master of Excellence, Maker of Leaders, The One Who Called Me Forward

There are teachers who teach from books,

who fill whiteboards with theories,

who measure growth in grades,

attendance sheets,

and examinations.

And then there are teachers like you—

the rare kind

who look beyond trembling hands,

beyond lowered eyes,

beyond hesitant voices,

and somehow see

the fire hidden beneath fear.

I was young then—

timid, uncertain,

more comfortable in silence

than in the sound of my own voice.

Yet you called my name.

Not because I was ready,

but because you knew

I could be.

When I shrank from recitations,

you made me stand.

When doubt whispered louder than courage,

you spoke louder still.

“You can.”

Two simple words—

but from you,

they carried the weight of destiny.

You believed in me

when I had not yet learned

how to believe in myself.

You did not make things easy.

Others were allowed excuses.

Others were given grace for lateness,

for mediocrity,

for “good enough.”

But not me.

At the time,

I wondered why your standards

felt heavier on my shoulders.

Now I understand—

you were never being hard on me.

You were being faithful

to the potential you saw in me.

You refused to let me remain

where fear found me.

You called me to excellence

when comfort was easier.

You demanded discipline

when excuses were available.

You taught me that leadership

is not found in confidence alone,

but in character forged through pressure.

And when you told me

to lead—

to stand before others,

to serve as president of the Student Body Organization

when I could barely lead myself—

I thought you were mistaken.

But mentors like you

do not look at who we are.

They look at who we can become.

You guided,

you corrected,

you challenged,

and sometimes…

you stepped back—

allowing me to struggle,

to fail,

to think,

to stand—

so I would learn

that strength cannot be borrowed forever.

Even after graduation,

your lessons did not end.

In your stories,

your counsel,

your quiet examples of excellence,

commitment,

passion,

and devotion to your calling—

I found not just a professor,

but a model

of the kind of professional,

leader,

and person

I aspire to become.

Some mentors teach skills.

Some mentors shape careers.

But a rare few—

shape lives.

Thank you

for seeing courage in a timid student,

leadership in uncertainty,

excellence in weakness,

and purpose in someone

who could not yet see her own.

Because of your faith in me,

I learned to find my own.

And for that, Dean,

I will always carry

your lessons—

not merely in my profession,

but in the person

I am still becoming.

[reckoningeverymile]

For the One Who Made the Heavy Days Light

In a year I now call beautiful,

where memories gather like warm light,

there was a door I often entered

with trembling hands and swollen eyes.

And behind that door,

there you were.

Not with judgment,

not with hurried counsel,

but with a chair gently pulled closer

and a voice that said,

“Sit. You’re safe here.”

You were more than a counselor—

you were steady ground

when my thoughts were storms.

You were a soft place to land

when my heart did not know

where else to fall.

I cried in your presence

without shame.

Words spilled out—messy,

confused, unfiltered—

and you gathered them

like they were fragile glass,

handling each piece with care.

You saw me

when I could barely see myself.

You heard what I could not yet say.

You welcomed me

on days I felt unworthy

of welcome.

When my mind was restless,

when my emotions rose and crashed

like waves I could not control,

you did not grow tired of me.

You checked in.

You followed up.

You remembered.

In hallways filled with pressure

and expectations too loud for my soul,

you became quiet assurance—

a reminder that my mental health mattered,

that my tears were not weakness,

that I was not “too much.”

Looking back at that year now,

I see how many beautiful things happened—

achievements, milestones, growth—

but hidden within all of them

was your steady kindness,

holding me together

when I felt undone.

Some people shape your résumé.

Others shape your resilience.

You shaped mine.

And though time has carried me forward,

though I now stand steadier on my own,

a part of my strength

still traces back

to the office where I learned

that vulnerability is not defeat—

it is courage.

Thank you

for mothering my fragile seasons,

for guarding my unseen battles,

for making the heavy days lighter.

I will always remember

that in one of the most formative years of my life,

God placed someone in my path

who made me feel

welcomed,

heard,

and deeply seen.

[reckoningeverymile]

He Stayed

(a poem of appreciation for a great friend. I am an introvert, but God always sends his angels to help me get through)

We met in halls of borrowed time,

with hurried steps and dreams to climb.

The days were loud, the nights were long,

and youth was fragile, fierce, and strong.

You walked beside me, calm and near,

a steady hush against my fear.

No grand advice, no need to mend—

you chose the quiet way to tend.

When shadows pressed against my chest

and gloom refused to let me rest,

you did not chase the dark away—

you simply sat with it… and stayed.

While titles weighed upon my name

and pressure burned like hidden flame,

when duties stretched past setting sun,

you lingered till the day was done.

Through midnight lamps and pages wide,

you claimed a desk right by my side.

“I’ll study too,” you’d softly say—

as if you’d planned it that same day.

You waited for the sky to pale,

for tired thoughts and strength to fail,

to walk me safely through the night

until my door was locked in light.

You heard the words I could not frame,

the doubts, the hopes without a name.

You kept them safe, you let them be—

a living vault of honesty.

We grew, we changed, we took our flight,

toward separate roads and different light.

Yet though our maps no longer blend,

I hold the chapters we once penned.

For paths may part and seasons shift,

but kindness leaves a lasting gift.

The steps you took, the time you gave,

are treasures memory will save.

And as you chase your distant skies,

with tireless heart and steady eyes,

know somewhere, quiet and sincere,

there’s one who roots for you from here.

I wish you triumph, deep and true,

the kind that fits the best of you.

May doors swing wide where you belong,

may days be kind and nights be strong.

Not every bond is meant to stay

in daily nearness, come what may.

Some live in gratitude’s embrace—

in silent thanks and gentle grace.

And looking back, my heart still knows

how rare that quiet kindness grows.

Not every gift demands display—

some shine because

they chose to stay.

You were my human diary—

a keeper of unsentences,

a vault for my fears,

a witness to my becoming.

You never rushed my words.

You let them arrive

like dawn—

slow,

honest,

inevitable.