The Wandering Eye
Stories
Shining Moments
Visions Of The Holy In Ordinary Lives
Paul Calkin
I remember a teacher. We first called her Mrs. Lofton. She taught us Sunday school in the basement of the church. She used these flannelgraphs: They were flannel boards that she placed objects on, and moved them around, to teach us Bible stories. I was in the third grade at the time. We had a large class, probably twenty kids, so she had the corner of the basement because it had the most room. She always had a beautiful smile and a wonderful hug for everyone. One morning, she seemed a bit sad, however, and one of my classmates said to her just a few minutes into the lesson, "Mrs. Lofton, my mom said we should pray for you today."
So we gathered in a circle as Mrs. Lofton had taught us to do, and we held hands, and we prayed for her. Tears streamed down her face, and because she cried, we cried. We didn't find out until a few minutes later why we prayed for her. Her husband, Woody, had died Saturday afternoon. Yet Mrs. Lofton came to be with us that Sunday morning. Her children, and most of her family, attended that church. She got her best care there. That morning she needed to be there.
Over the next few months, we noticed a change in Mrs. Lofton. She was sad. The smile was gone. The hugs weren't as frequent. We wanted to help, but we just didn't know what to do. We decided, as a class, that we would pray for her, and so we did. After a few months, her spirits began to brighten a bit, and we thought that it was our prayers. We felt pretty good about that. Time went by.
Then, one day, an announcement was made in church that she was getting married. I heard the gentleman sitting beside me say it was "too soon ... wasn't a proper length of time." I didn't know what that meant. All I knew was that I wanted her to be happy.
After worship, some of us children overheard the adults say something about the man that she was going to marry. They said that he had a "wandering eye." When we met him, we decided that the left one did float a bit to the left. Why that could possibly worry someone, we didn't know. We just knew that she seemed happy.
They had been married about a year. Suddenly, one Sunday morning, her new husband, Leonard, walked down the aisle of the church, made his profession of faith, and was baptized. Those of us who had been in her Sunday school class stood up in the back of the church and cheered.
They say his eye never wandered again. I still think it drifted to the left. Leonard became one of the best workers in that church, and one of the most committed Christians that I have ever met.
I remember a teacher. We first called her Mrs. Lofton. She taught us Sunday school in the basement of the church. She used these flannelgraphs: They were flannel boards that she placed objects on, and moved them around, to teach us Bible stories. I was in the third grade at the time. We had a large class, probably twenty kids, so she had the corner of the basement because it had the most room. She always had a beautiful smile and a wonderful hug for everyone. One morning, she seemed a bit sad, however, and one of my classmates said to her just a few minutes into the lesson, "Mrs. Lofton, my mom said we should pray for you today."
So we gathered in a circle as Mrs. Lofton had taught us to do, and we held hands, and we prayed for her. Tears streamed down her face, and because she cried, we cried. We didn't find out until a few minutes later why we prayed for her. Her husband, Woody, had died Saturday afternoon. Yet Mrs. Lofton came to be with us that Sunday morning. Her children, and most of her family, attended that church. She got her best care there. That morning she needed to be there.
Over the next few months, we noticed a change in Mrs. Lofton. She was sad. The smile was gone. The hugs weren't as frequent. We wanted to help, but we just didn't know what to do. We decided, as a class, that we would pray for her, and so we did. After a few months, her spirits began to brighten a bit, and we thought that it was our prayers. We felt pretty good about that. Time went by.
Then, one day, an announcement was made in church that she was getting married. I heard the gentleman sitting beside me say it was "too soon ... wasn't a proper length of time." I didn't know what that meant. All I knew was that I wanted her to be happy.
After worship, some of us children overheard the adults say something about the man that she was going to marry. They said that he had a "wandering eye." When we met him, we decided that the left one did float a bit to the left. Why that could possibly worry someone, we didn't know. We just knew that she seemed happy.
They had been married about a year. Suddenly, one Sunday morning, her new husband, Leonard, walked down the aisle of the church, made his profession of faith, and was baptized. Those of us who had been in her Sunday school class stood up in the back of the church and cheered.
They say his eye never wandered again. I still think it drifted to the left. Leonard became one of the best workers in that church, and one of the most committed Christians that I have ever met.
