By Liane E. Stone, ‘88
We were a garden of blossoming, fragrant flowers
Planted in colorful clusters across the hills and valleys of Northfield Mount Hermon.
Bursting with adolescent angst and pubescent passion,
We began this journey…together.
Endless days filled with breathtaking views of picturesque mountains draped in blankets of gold, orange, red, and green hues.
Together, we took that first step toward global citizenship,
All while coming from every nook and cranny of this vastly diverse landscape called earth.
Though armed with different toolboxes gleaned from myriad upbringings, experiences, and ideas
We were open to learning about the true essence of each individual life we encountered upon these hallowed hills of Northfield Mount Hermon.
Together, we sadly dined on barely tolerable cuisine that left us running to the snack bar in search of more palatable sustenance,
Together, we cheered on fellow hogger athletes who sometimes won, and sometimes not,
But that never caused anyone to question our loyalty nor did it weaken our enthusiasm.
Together, we suffered through weekly all school meetings meant to unite and inform us,
Yet sometimes strangely felt like corralling us into sheep-like submission.
Together, we pulled all-nighters, gulping down Jolt sodas and popping No-Doze like caffeinated skittles,
Writing papers on Brothers typewriters because desktop word processors were just becoming an accessible thing during our day.
We walked the paths of Northfield and Mount Hermon, together.
Late nights lying in the cool green grass counting stars, making plans, and crafting dreams that felt so real we could touch them.
Campus-wide snowball fights, races for school-baked pies, and “dressing up” to attend formal occasions, the NMH-way.
Together we gathered in prayer as we readied ourselves to walk across that makeshift stage built on the football field,
While swallowing the melancholy tears of goodbye to this journey, and hello to the next.
We lived so much, laughed so much, fussed so much, planned so much, and played so much together that we never imagined a time when we would no longer be we, us, as a whole.
But one day, our Creator looked lovingly across this garden of blossoming, fragrant flowers planted in colorful clusters,
And knew that despite the array of incomprehensible beauty that we possessed,
Some were weakening, some were suffering, their life forces slowly ebbing away.
It was then that He lovingly reached His hand down to our garden,
Plucked nine of our most beautiful flowers,
And took them to His greenhouse filled with love, joy, peace, and healing for their souls and their spirits.
It was there, in His greenhouse, that they were separated from those crumbling shells and placed in the master’s garden
Where they will no longer suffer, wilt, nor weaken from the harsh elements in this world.
Though our garden is smaller, and our clusters are missing blossoms,
And the link that connected us as we’ve gone on this journey together is forever broken,
We have assurance in knowing that there will always be a part of those nine blossoms in our hearts,
In the air, in the soil, in the head, heart, and hand, and in the soul of Northfield Mount Hermon.