I Was Just Thinking…
…about Molly Dauster. I received word this week that she died after a rather challenging struggle with liver disease. Molly was unsinkable—she was one of my professors in the history program at Webster University. She was a tough, no-nonsense PhD from Lubbock who had an incredible twang, pocket full of “Mollyisms” (doesn’t that just take the rag off the bush?) and a love for Rowan Atkinson, Monty Python and subversive British humor. She was one of my recommenders for divinity school, though she refused to write one for TCU, as she felt no one should go to Texas. (She also gave me her Greek New Testament, telling me, “I have no use for Ancient Greek or the New Testament anymore.” She was feisty—and she did love Texas, I think.)
When I found out, the first thing I did was get in touch with my friend Rachelle, who was in her classes with me. And we traded Molly stories, remembered more of her lines (“crazier than a rat in a coffee can”), talked about Lubbock, and what an impact she had on us. Neither Rachelle nor I are historians, or have degrees after our bachelor’s in that field. I have yet to again crack open any of the books on Rome and the Barbarians or Medieval England that I bought for her classes. While I’ve stolen some of her lines, and found her on Facebook, she and I weren’t meant to see each other again in this life. But she had an incredible impact on me, and Rachelle, and countless others, by being herself, doing what she loved, and giving herself away.
I had two classes with Molly, and she made a huge impact in my life. I’ll tell you more stories if you want to hear them, and I want to hear your stories this Sunday as we celebrate the saints who have gone before us—Carl, Meda, George, Ralph and Carl, and the others, too, who are now part of that great cloud of witnesses. I hope you will come and worship with us as we engage in multi-sensory stations and together share in the remembrance feast of Christ. This Sunday will be one of celebration and anticipation for the life that is yet to come, as well as one of celebration and thanksgiving for the lives that have come before. I hope to see you then.