AN EASTER STORY

Easter is happening all around us every day. In this post I'll share an excerpt from my book Faces of Easter. An Easter story that truly needs to be told.

As soon as Walter walks through the door as a freshman, it’s obvious that he’s staggering under some heavy emotional burdens. He can’t look anyone in the eye, preferring to stare at the floor instead, and if asked a question he might not respond at all, or might mumble a monosyllable; he plods through each day, hiding behind the protective barriers he’s set up and avoiding human contact as much as possible. Even shaking someone’s hand seems to be an ordeal. 

So, we convince him to live in our student residence hall, where he’s assigned to be a member of a group of ten other kids who, like him, are dealing with serious emotional and psychological issues. The eleven have their own separate hallway in the dorm and follow a strict schedule that includes a common study hall, frequent group therapy sessions and an individual conference once a week with one of our counselors. By accumulating “hours” of good behavior and acceptable grades—Walter isn’t particularly good at either—a student in this group can earn certain privileges, such as right to study in his room instead of in the study hall, and, eventually, to go home for a weekend visit.

The school year quickly shifts into high gear, and I have almost no contact with Walter for weeks at a time. I do hear an occasional comment from a teacher, however, that Walter is aloof and uncommunicative. The gold light of September cools over the weeks into the grayness of December, and suddenly it’s time for Christmas break, which means that Walter will be going home for the first time since the beginning of the fall semester. 

As all the students are charging out the door toward a two-week break, I notice Walter standing outside on the top step in front of the school, with a suitcase and a big laundry bag at his feet, peering nervously up the street. Having no idea if he’ll consent to shake my hand or even acknowledge my greeting, I step out of the door and offer him my hand, saying “Have a great vacation, Walt.” He ignores my hand (Had I made a mistake by offering it?), and stares at me. Then, appearing half confused, and half insulted, he looks me in the eye and asks: “What, no hug?” I stand there for a second, dumbfounded.

The moment is so full of mystery and grace and love that I won’t even try to reduce it to words. But you can be sure that Walter got his hug.

HAPPY EASTER!