I'm delighted to share this occasion with you, the Class of 2005, and with your families and friends. Each of you has a great life ahead! I'm confident of that. But since I don't know the details of what's to come, my talk today is about what a good life I've had. Admittedly, this may seem like an odd approach to a commencement address. But by the end, I hope you'll agree that what's made my life so good will also make yours great.

Before we get into all that, though, I have a few questions for you, graduates. How many of you have completed your undergraduate degree in 4 years? Okay, quite a few. How many have taken closer to 5 years? Six years anyone? I'm not necessarily talking about uninterrupted years in the classroom, but with time off for whatever reason, how many have taken 7 years from start to finish? Eight years? Anyone longer than eight? Well, I offer you all hearty congratulations for being such speed demons! It took me 11 years to finish my BA! It's true—I have transcripts from 8 different schools over 11 years. Parents, I hope that puts into perspective whatever ways your son or daughter's college years may not have gone quite according to plan.

Now, in case you're wondering why Dr. Moffett invited someone who spent over a decade finishing college to speak to you today, let me add a caveat or two to help explain those 11 years. First of all, I finished high school when I was 16, so I had some time to spare and some growing up to do. More central to those 11 years, however, was what preceded them—my childhood.

My family was a long way from "Leave It to Beaver." My parents were not well matched, and the tensions in their marriage created a life of chaos for my brother and me. More often than not, my mom was drunk and my dad absent—a preferable scenario, really, to the violence that often erupted when both were present. My time at Principia Upper School was a refuge of sorts. But then high school ended, two quick stabs at college fizzled, my acting career fell through, my dad disowned me, and by then, my mom had sunk completely into the oblivion of alcoholism. At age 18, I hit the streets of Chicago shell-shocked.

But wait a second—this was supposed to be a story about a good life. That's right. It is the story of a good life, not an easy life, but a wonderfully rich, rewarding life, full of love. In fact, you might even call it a love story because of the many opportunities I've had both to love and be loved.

In particular, three things happened to me over the years that illustrate what a great life I've had. First of all, while I was at the Upper School, I met a young couple who took me under their wing—and have never been able to get me out from under it. They were only at Prin for a year and a half, but that was long enough to cement a mutual affection that grew over the years until I became a full-fledged member of the family. I don't look like these people, we're not related by blood, there's no legal connection between us, yet over the years they have been mom and dad, big sister and big brother, and most of all best friends. The first thing, then, that has made my life so wonderful is the family of choice God gave me when my family of origin fell through.

The second phenomenal thing that happened to me is that in my late teens, when my life imploded and I found myself suddenly on my own, God planted the seed of a desire, or dream, in my heart. That dream has steered me in the right direction ever since.

Now, if you ever doubted that God has a wicked sense of humor, doubt no more. The dream God gave me was, of all things, a burning desire to be a mom. Given the parents I had as role models, I was ill-equipped to succeed at this goal, yet somehow I knew that if I could take the love I'd been given—from my own parents and from others—and nurture and prune it, then come harvest time, I could separate it from the pain and chaos I'd experienced and wind up with no small offering for a child of my own.

As my life slowly took shape, I began setting priorities for my future with this dream in mind. I watched my friends' parenting styles like a hawk, tucking away examples I thought worth emulating. I also took stock of my aptitudes and—once I finally finished my B.A.—began pursuit of a Ph.D., figuring that teaching and parenting would make a good match. There were, of course, lots of ups and downs along the way. I took long detours and hit many dead ends, but that dream God gave me kept me going.

A few times over the years, I also fell in love. Once, I was so sure of my feelings that I proposed. In the end, we didn't marry, but I'll always be glad I felt strongly enough about someone to want to spend my life with him. Nothing can take that feeling away from me.

Over time, however, it looked less and less like marriage was in the cards, so I had to get very clear about the fact that neither my happiness nor my dream of parenting depended on a partner. I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but at some point, I allowed myself to be happily single without feeling that something was missing.

Eventually, I finished my dissertation, landed a job, and survived the sleepless nights of preparing classes my first year as an assistant professor. I wasn't married, didn't own a house, and had no money, yet the time seemed right to start a family, so I looked up adoption agencies in the phone book. Things did not go smoothly. The first agency turned me down well into the process, but I was able to find another one willing to work with me. And eventually I was matched with a birthmother, but then, at the last moment, she decided to keep her child. I spent the next several weeks bursting into tears at very inopportune times.

But then one day the call finally came: "We have a baby girl for you." I was ecstatic! I called friends, ordered announcements, decorated the house with “It's a girl!” streamers and balloons. Three days later, after holding this child in my heart for nearly 20 years, I finally cradled her in my arms. She was 3 1/2 weeks old when we met; she'll be thirteen soon. She is in every way the child of my dreams—and then some!

Now, graduates, please, please, please, don't misunderstand me. Parenting is not the point. In fact, some days I wonder what in the world I was thinking! The point is that God, divine Love, has placed a dream in each of your hearts as well. God has given you a burning desire to do something that will benefit others while it blesses you. That desire is your calling, and I mean that literally. Over the years, it will call you, beckoning you forward, guiding you around obstacles, steering you through detours, and lifting you up out of mistakes the size of black holes. I know that from experience, for through all my detours and dead ends, divine Love dangled my dream before me. It was my version of the pillar of cloud by day and fire by night that led the Children of Israel through the wilderness.

A wilderness of some sort awaits you, too. Money and prestige won't get you through it. Nor will doing what society says you should do—or what your parents want you to do. You need a calling. That's what will see you through because that mission, or life-purpose, is Christ calling you.

Some of you may not have heard your calling yet. Or you may lose sight of it along the way. That's okay. But stay tuned. God is calling you, and that call from God is what tells you, “This is the way, walk ye in it” (Isa. 30:21).

The second reason, then, that I've had such a good life is that, early on, when I was penniless, and for one night homeless, on the streets of Chicago, God was with me, planting a dream in my heart. Little did I know that as I tended and nurtured that dream, God was restoring the years the locust had eaten (see Joel 2:25). That is a good life.

Obviously, certain key people have meant the world to me over the years. In the end, though, it's not people but God who gets the credit for turning my life story into a love story. I didn't really understand this until I discovered what has become my favorite line in Mary Baker Eddy's Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures . It's only ten words—just part of a sentence—but it describes the law of divine Love that's been looking out for me—and you—and will continue to do so.

I'll read you the whole sentence and then tell you which 10 words I love most. Mrs. Eddy writes, “This is the doctrine of Christian Science: that divine Love cannot be deprived of its manifestation, or object; that joy cannot be turned into sorrow, for sorrow is not the master of joy; that good can never produce evil; that matter can never produce mind nor life result in death” (304). That is one heck of a sentence, isn't it? So far, I've made only the first item in the list my own—that “divine Love cannot be deprived of its manifestation, or object.” Those are the 10 words I'm talking about.

To be a manifestation of divine Love is to be an expression of Love. To be the object of Love is to be the recipient, or target, of Love. I was the target of divine Love when God gave me those friends who became my family. I was also the target of Love when God planted that dream in my heart. It's no coincidence, though, that finding my family of choice and pursuing that dream were as much about expressing love as receiving it.

I like the idea that we're always both giving and receiving love. I also like the emphatic tone of those 10 words. Mrs. Eddy doesn't say Love isn't usually deprived or doesn't like to be deprived. She says, “divine Love cannot be deprived of its manifestation, or object.” Taking those 10 words as my mandate, I've insisted on my right to love others and to feel divine Love loving me. Doing so has brought extraordinary opportunities into my life—and the courage to take them on. Have I always been successful? Of course not! Have I ever blown it big time? Absolutely—which brings me to the third thing that's made my life so good.

I discovered firsthand that doing things we shouldn't do makes us feel far away from God—that's the punishment—but it doesn't actually separate us from Him. I've made lots of mistakes, some of them whoppers. Once, I even blew it badly enough to convince myself that I no longer deserved God's love, but it was there nonetheless, helping me mend my ways until I felt at home again in “the great heart of Love” ( Science and Health , 448). Why didn't God give up on me when I gave up on Him? Because divine Love cannot—will not—be deprived of its manifestation or object. Love never lets us go.

So, what has made my life so good? 1) Friends who've loved me for the good they saw in me long before I saw it in myself. 2) The dream God planted in my heart that got me through the wilderness. 3) The law of divine Love that keeps me both expressing and receiving love and never lets me go.

And what will make your life so good? 1) Friends who love you for the good they see in you long before you see it in yourself. 2) The dream God has planted in your heart that will get you through the wilderness. 3) The law of divine Love that keeps you both expressing and receiving love and never lets you go.

Life is good, graduates. Not easy—but very, very good.