The letters I came across stirred me deeply. Eleven of them, written to me by the teacher I'd had in the Christian Science Sunday School just before I had gone away to college. The letters spanned those college years, responding in a special way to the things I'd written her about. Each was one typed page (the ribbon was new only once in those four years), on gray stationery, always signed "Much love."
She approached difficulties in a different way,
with almost a warrior's delight at being presented
with the challenge. When I was at home on
holidays, I'd sometimes visit her and pour out
my heart. "What fun!" she'd say. "We'll find
the answer!"
This dear teacher approached difficulties in a different way, with almost a warrior's delight at being presented with the challenge. From her comments I can see what I must have written her about: decisions, a boyfriend, academic difficulties, and other pangs of growing up. But in her letters she'd soar beyond me, seeing in each issue a universal truth. Did she ever guess that I was not yet on her plane of thought? If so, she didn't let it stop her. She so obviously loved what she taught, and somehow this made me want to love it too.
