“Several years ago…”
by Elouise
This true story is at the end of Confessions of a Beginning Theologian. I referred to it in a recent post. Here’s more of the story, including the way it played out in my life a year later.
Several years ago I was in my car, on my way to the first day of spring semester classes. I felt shaky and uncertain. A year earlier, students had lodged serious complaints against me. They were reported to me anonymously at the end of the semester; several pages, single-spaced and typed. I was devastated. The seminary president requested a meeting with my dean and me. I asked one of my teaching colleagues to accompany me.
The meeting was long and difficult. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. My request to meet with concerned students was denied. Now, just one year later, several students who might have been part of that group were in the required course I was on my way to meet for the first time.
I stopped at a traffic light and waited for it to change. Two older men, perhaps in their seventies, were coming down the sidewalk, facing me. They were out for an early-morning walk. They moved along quickly, talking and laughing. The sun was up. It was a gorgeous day.
As they came closer, I noticed they were holding hands. This seemed rather unusual. But it was also wonderful. My mind turned to friendships among older men. I wondered how long these men had known each other and whether they walked together every day.
Suddenly, without any signal and without breaking their stride, they left the sidewalk and began walking through a large parking lot. They seemed to be of one will. As they angled away from the sidewalk, I saw it for the first time—the short leather strap they were holding between them. One of them was blind.
In a flash my eyes filled with tears. I saw myself walking blindly into this class. Seeing some things, but not everything. Knowing someone with sight beyond my sight was beside me. All I had to do was follow God’s lead, keep holding on to the strap and keep putting one foot in front of the other.
It looked easy when I watched those two men. Almost effortless. But God knows, as they knew, how difficult it sometimes is to keep moving and keep trusting.
____
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1998 and February 2015
Excerpt from Confessions of a Beginning Theologian (pp. 131-32)
Published by Intervarsity Press 1998
Telling the Truth 
Yes, indeed, Elouise. Thank you for reminding me of many things, but above all, to keep moving and keep trusting the One who sees – me and all else – the One who is here with me – every moment of every day – and the One who loves me beyond all measure. What a beautiful way to begin this Sunday. Thank you for the unexpected gift!
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You’re so welcome. It was great to be in church this morning–listening to the music all around me, soaking it in.
Elouise
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Reminds of something I went through recently. I have to say I disagree with the anonymity of any criticism. I know, you were their professor, but if you were to be able to address things well, you needed to meet them. The image of the sighted walking with the blind is beautiful and encouraging. A timely reminder to trust.
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Natalie, Thank you for this comment. Experiences like this can be unnerving. I’m with you about anonymity–despite all the ‘reasons’ on the other side (at least in my case). I was cheered and encouraged when more than one student came to me later to apologize. I also learned a few new classroom skills for introverts out of this–though it was a painful way to learn!
Elouise
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Beautiful!! Thank you again, Mary Glyn
Sent from my iPhone
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You’re so welcome, Mary Glyn!
Elouise
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It is a nice story. But I wonder why people who attend theological colleges can be so underhand and bitchy? The worst of all the schools I taught in in 45 years was the avowedly Christian College. _Pentecostal.
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Thanks, suchled. I’m glad you enjoyed the story. When I think about my own upbringing, pointing out flaws in other people was considered the ‘right’ thing to do. I don’t find it easier in other settings, especially as a woman. However, I do believe that theological schools often draw people who (admirably) want to ‘change the world.’ The challenge for me was seeing that I needed to ‘change the world’ inside of me. Until I did that, everyone not like me was not simply strange, but feared. It’s difficult to do what Jesus taught–take care of the log in my own eye before I go after the splinter in my brother or sister’s eye. Compassion for myself, as well as others, has a way of softening my heart. I think many of my students were as starved for compassion as I was. Thanks again for your comment.
Elouise
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