I recently returned to my home town of Owensboro, Kentucky to attend the 50th anniversary of my graduation from high school. Judy went with me. We had a good time. She is, always, up for a party, and I enjoyed introducing her to my classmates. Only one or two had I seen in fifty years! Still, it felt comfortable to me to be there with them again in the context of our youth. A psychiatrist once told me that the heart knows no time; it certainly felt that way to me. With no effort at all I was back in 1966.
I much appreciate my classmates who worked to make the reunion happen. Just being with friends from my youth was a good experience in itself, but there were highlights. I met with my debate team coach and fellow debate partners. I talked at length with several folks who shared their spiritual pilgrimages and their sharing inspired me. I went back to my home church and saw a few of the folks who made a big impact on my life of faith. I saw some of my relatives who still live in Owensboro and learned about their involvement in church mission work. But the big surprise of the weekend was a tour of my elementary school. One of my classmates arranged it through a current teacher in that school who was willing to come on a Saturday afternoon and take us through the building. Seven or eight of us made the tour. Several of us were in the first grade together. Our first grade classroom is still being used for first grade classes. I stood in that classroom and remembered an event that I have shared many times through the years.
During my first week of school my mother came to class with me. She sat by me as I worked on a assignment given by the teacher. I was copying something she had written on the chalk board. My mother pointed out a mistake I had made. I erased the mistake and tried again, but I still got it wrong. In fact, I had to erase three times, and on the third erasure the paper which had gotten black with smudges from my attempts to erase, tore. The paper was ruined, and I was devastated. In my childish imagination I thought that the teacher would probably not allow me to return to school. My mother tried to console me, but I was unconsolable. Miss Dobson walked to the back of the classroom where I was sitting and asked what was wrong. Through my tears I pointed at the paper and explained between sobs what had happened. Then she did what was remarkable to me. Miss Dobson had a big tablet of paper, and she tore out a clean sheet of paper and put it on the desk in front me, and she picked up the sheet that I had ruined. It seemed miraculous to me.
More than six decades later I stood on the spot in the same classroom where Miss Dobson had worked her miracle. I never went back and told Miss Dodson how much her intervention meant to me, but I’ve told people around the world in sermons and talks about that moment of grace in my young life. She is now living in a nursing home in Owensboro; she was not available for a visit. Heaven will provide a time to talk with people who blessed our lives, a time to say thank you. Miss Dobson is on my list of folks I want to see.
Romans 5:20 is a passage of Scripture meant for adults. It reads, “. . .where sin abounded, grace did much more abound.” As a first grader I had not sinned when I tried to erase the paper and tore it. Still, that experience is a picture for me of how gracious God has been in my life. Again and again a clean sheet of paper has been placed in front of me, and the ruined has been removed.
