Loretto Academy - Laurel Yearbook (Kansas City, MO)

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A school year goes by quickly in one continuous stream of basketball cheers, May hymns, spirit-cup winners, and graduation thank-yous. Every year holds the same holidays and organized projects to be completed. Yet each year is different. Each holds new promise as last year's Freshman become this year's Sophs, the Sophomores step into Junior shoes, and the leadership of the school is taken over by the new Seniors. Every year the side door is opened, the books are toted, and the steps are mounted. Every year the Freshmen betray themselves by their nervous giggly stares. To them, upper-classmen, as the old guard, must give the traditions, old and new, that bind us together with the thin chains of love. All of us are links in that chain. Just by going to Loretto, we become the heirs apparent to an old and valued title, that of the True Loretto Woman. Loretto women can be found away at college, in the Peace corps, teaching school, or washing dishes at the Alumna Dinner. Her reign” is not limited by time; she is her own successor. Her dominion is the world. Her outlook is feminine. She is an educated woman whoenjoysthe world in which she lives, and she gives of herself to make it a better place for her children. She is as varied and complex as we are, and as those who will follow us. This is what we are. We are Loretto women. From the first smile towards someone you didn't know, with the working of each new math problem, as you babysat with your younger brother, you were giving of yourself. You stepped out of yourself to love, and in return you were given love. Even saddle shoes can't ruin the beauty

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of someone who loves like that. We are here, laughing, studying, learning, sharing and loving, together. Growing together, up and out of Loretto. The finality of it- up and out -but this is what a school is for. We come from our own separate worlds into a common world, a world physically encompassed by a red brick building, yet given unmeasurable bounds as we become part of it. Even as our numbers have out- grown the classrooms and our education has outgrown the books, so we, too, out-grow Loretto's high school environment. As a gentle and loving final handclasp, we leave— Seniors. We forget the hard words, the angry dicourage- ment. We forget the unsold chocolate bars and the undeserved detentions. We forget the petty things we did to each other. We realize how banal it is to worry over such trivialities as the indifferent teacher or homework left undone. How trivial in a world that is hungry, bleeding, and dying. How trivial in the light of God s uncompromising love for us. So some of us leave, while others are even now counting the days till September. But we go. . .bound by love, committed to love. Love of God and love of men. Leaving, we will never forget, but will re-evaluate things in a new light. The distance of years and miles will give our vision dimension, and like the Little Prince, we learn that as we are bound by it, so we are responsible for what we love. Our light is your call. Our good is your aim. Love is your spirit. Loretto is your name.