Last night I got home from a quick trip to Iowa. There to celebrate the life of Mrs. Jean Belz, a friend, former teacher, former dorm mother. Yet, those descriptions don't seem to really describe the impact she had on my life. I kept saying over and over again, so much of who I am is because of her. Her directions for the right way to clean the bathroom to how to greet a guest. To the use of proper subject/object agreement in an English sentence or the proper mood of a Latin sentence. Her encouragement to make ordinary things orderly and beautiful. And above all obedience to Christ, living the gospel in faith.
She was my parents' high school teacher, my high school teacher, and I lived with her my last two years of high school.
She scared me and encouraged me. Her Midwestern candor and gumption.
Every morning when we left for school, she said "Goodbye, girls, be good!" One day she followed this with "and don't talk to strangers!" (which is hilarious when you consider that our school was in the middle of nowhere in Iowa and there simply were no strangers and if there were, we should probably talk to them, because they were probably visitors.
One day I came in and she said to me, "Do you want to follow in your parents' footsteps?" yea, what am I going to say to that? Next thing I knew I was picking flowers for all the dinner tables for the evening meal for all the boarding students.
Once I came in and noticed she was making kolaches, and I was feeling chipper and said "Oh, are you making kolaches?" and she said "now you just shut your mouth!" Freaked me out! Later it turned out that she was making them as a surprise for one of her English classes since they were studying Willa Cather and some members of that English class were in the room at the time.
Oh, and here's one I even blogged about. A letter I received about seven years after I graduated from high school:
Dear Jeannette, Thanks for all your emails. I read them with interest...[blah, blah, newsy bits, etc.]...When I read your letter, I immediately thought I should correct all the uses of apostrophes. I was going to ask you first. Now as I re-read it, it doesn't seems so bad. As your old teacher, I felt responsible.... etc.
I loved coming in and seeing her read. She always read her Bible and the Wall Street Journal every day. And if she went away and came back, she read every single WSJ in order when she came back in order to get caught up. That was my favorite place to find her, in her chair reading. If she were in the kitchen, I might get a job. If she were in bed already (at night), she might be cranky (because I was probably out too late). But if she were reading in her chair, she might just leave me alone (ha!) or sit and just chat with me. And I liked that.
She was 91 when she died. I was surprised at how deeply I felt when I heard the news. I am so glad I made the effort to go to Iowa from Philadelphia, and for the many people who helped me get there, rides from the airport, shared meals, the use of sheets and a blanket, a corner in an empty dorm.
I loved seeing my dear friends again. Jane and Esther are her granddaughters and my good friends since we were in 9th (them) and 10th (me) grade. I lived with Jane at her grandma's, and Esther and I were in the same class and major in college. It's been so long since I've seen them. It was so wonderful to hug and to laugh again.
The funeral was preceded with an hour of singing and reading. Then the service, then we walked over the graveside, words were said, more singing, and then she was buried. Grandsons grabbing a shovel, others just throwing in a clod. How often does anyone get to bury their own dead anymore?
I loved the singing.
And then Iowa. Beautiful, wonderful, huge, expansive Iowa!!
Undulating fields, the wind that clears your heads, the azure sky against the shimmering sound of drying cornfields. Iowa is part of what makes it all special.
*photo credit to Adam Belz for the one of Mrs. Belz at the top.
