October 28, 1993 – Thursday – 6:12 p.m.

Something happened yesterday.  You’re probably thinking something happened at church.  Well, you’re wrong, this happened at school.

On March 5, 1993, a Friday, I wrote something in my first Book of Days about a woman named Mrs. Nance.  She was my chemistry teacher then.  I would not have given her that letting, sharing the gospel with her, if I did not know she was dying of cancer.  No one ever knew if she was a Christian or not.  We all just knew she was a firm believer in evolution and not creation.  She’s had cancer for a long time and during my junior year she would be out for weeks at a time.  I liked it when that happened because we didn’t actually have to do chemistry when the substitute teacher was there.  I hated chemistry with a passion; it was so confusing.

Mrs. Nance often talked about dying.  She talked about how much money and pain it was costing her just to stay alive a little longer.  Once day a student asked her if she considered quitting and not spending the money to pay for all the chemotherapy and just let it all go.

She said, “No, I will do whatever it takes to stay here as long as I can.  I’m not ready to go yet and I will stay with my husband and my song as long as I can.”

Two weeks ago, Mrs. Nance left school.  The doctor had given her two weeks left to live.  She looked so pitiful; her skin was yellow.

We got word yesterday that she passed away.

Mrs. Nance is dead.

In Spanish, Mr. Benton read this poem:

Sunset and evening star,
      And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
      When I put out to sea,
   But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
      Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
      Turns again home.
   Twilight and evening bell,
      And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
      When I embark;
   For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
      The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
      When I have crost the bar.
 
I fear this poem has a meaning I haven’t entirely grasped yet, but as I get closer to the lighthouse, I know I will.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s