
A reflection written for Robert Menzies College, Valedictory Dinner 2024
Remember your Creator in the days of your youth—
when light poured freely, even in early mornings,
and the world felt carved just for you,
like soft clay in young hands.
Before the hard questions come,
before the weight of wondering presses in,
find joy in laughter echoing down long halls,
in late nights where the future feels like a whisper,
almost close enough to touch.
Now, as you stand in the open air of your own becoming,
you may look back and see how you were shaped—
how each teacher, each friend, each wall you left behind,
lingers like a faint pulse, a rhythm guiding your steps.
There will be days when your spirit stirs,
when the lamps grow dim, and you are your only keeper,
when the wisdom of old books feels thin against the unknown.
But even as the windows grow dark,
and the voice calling from within is faint,
remember the One who lit each star, who forms each breath—
the hand that holds you through each unseen turn.
Let each day be a reckoning,
not in sorrow but in truth—
that seasons will pass, and the glitter of youth will fade
into something deeper, richer, and more fully known.
For there is a time for every purpose, even here—
in sleepless studies, in friendships burning bright and brief,
in the quiet dawning of who you are becoming.
So forge your way with open hands,
remembering the light that called you forth,
the Maker who sees each moment unfold,
who stands with you when shadows deepen and storms break.
You are here to learn, to question, to break, to build,
and even in the turning of each fragile season,
you are seen.
And it is good.
Based on Ecclesiastes 12:1-8
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