If Rose Harris, protagonist in my Sunday by Sunday series, were a real person, she would have gloried in being with a classroom full of seminarians yesterday. She would have, I believe, enjoyed the laughter when I read one of her phone conversations with granddaughter Stephanie Rose from book one–the conversation where the pregnant and emotionally fragile Stephanie had fixed herself a vegan delight Dagwood sandwich and set it on the patio for a minute and a raccoon ate it.
She would have also understood the change of mood in the classroom to sober silence upon the recounting of her Sunday afternoon in Sam Benshaw’s room in the nursing center from book three. Rose was totally unprepared for Sam’s stunning confessions. How could this kind and dignified 100-year-old friend and poet ever have done those things? And then, Rose would have been deeply gratified by the students delving into that story based in the lessons for the third Sunday of Easter and connecting her and Sam’s encounter with suffering and joy and resurrection.
As the author, I was surprised and delighted by the students’ discoveries. Some of their insights I had never considered, so their obersvations were great examples of the writing coming to the writer from beyond. Yes, ’twas a precious and sparkling time. I fiercely admire the courage of these seminarians, these people of faith willing to pray and do their best to proclaim the Word of God for and with the people of God.