Faith Journey Narrative--A Very Difficult Year (1979-1980)

Third Monday after Pentecost

Monday is faith journey narrative day. I left off in the summer of 1979 with the disaster of the Holston Conference United Methodist Women's annual meeting, a story that many of you found quite amusing. Funny now; not funny then.

The students came back to Tennessee Wesleyan in September. The Wesleyan Christian Fellowship, which as chaplain I headed, was going well. My classes were going well. I had made some good friendships with faculty and administration. One of my duties was giving invocations before sporting events. On a Thursday in November I gave an invocation for the Women's basketball game, which I then watched. We won. 

That Sunday evening four of the young women were driving back to campus after a celebratory dinner together at a nearby restaurant. They stopped for a traffic light. When the light changed, they started. They were then smashed by a speeding drunk driver who was running a red light. Three of the four were killed. Two were white; one was black. None of those was wearing a seat belt. The one who was wearing a seat belt escaped with minor injuries. 

On a campus of 425 students in a small town, everyone knows everyone. I had two of the students in class, Kathy Delaney and Beverly Beasley. Kathy was a prospective Religion major. I went to two of the funerals. I probably should have gone to the other, but the distance would have required me to miss my classes that day. The President and the Dean went. I conducted a memorial service at the large United Methodist Church adjacent to campus. The service was packed. The campus was in mourning the rest of the semester. 

In February of 1980, after Christmas vacation, another student died. She was a commuter, not well known to the other students. She died of a disease. I don't remember what. I went to a perfectly horrible Baptist funeral for her. It included the terrible funeral cliche, "God picked the most beautiful rose from his garden on earth to be with him in heaven." It ended with an altar call. A day or two later I did a small memorial service for her in the campus chapel. 

During that semester, Kim, the fourth girl in the car crash, the one who had her seat belt on, went through the survivor's guilt. I counseled her. Counseling has never been my best skill. 

In May of that year I got a call one Saturday night from the Academic Dean, Albert Dimmitt.  His 16 year old son, David,  had just been killed in an auto accident. He was not the driver.  I went immediately to Albert's house. Albert's wife, David's mother, was on a mission trip in Haiti. I'm sorry, but at the moment her name is slipping my mind. I sat with Albert through the hour and a half of his getting her on the phone in Haiti. I sat with him as he told her of their son's death. I prayed with him afterward. It was one of my hardest nights.

I did the funeral for David in Trinity Church, the large Methodist Church on the edge of campus. Several friends spoke. David was well known to the college students, even though he was in high school. There was much weeping.

Eighteen to twenty-two year olds aren't used to coping with so much death. Five deaths in one year. I did a lot of counseling. Much of that year I felt as if I were barely hanging on. I was over my head. I was also homesick for North Carolina. I was missing my daughter April, whom I got to see only about once every six weeks. I was single and lonely. I prayed, but honestly I didn't feel as close to God as I needed to be. I felt like God was pulling me through it all, but barely. I felt like God could have been doing more for me. I understand it all better now in retrospect. 

There were other difficult things during that year. There were some good things as well, some enduring friendships made. Two of those friends are readers of this blog. My remaining three years at Tennessee Wesleyan would be better, much better. 

Faithfully,

Christian