The Voice of Dr. Mattie Hart

(Fair warning: I write this story purely unable to do her justice. I will not be able to convey to you the fierce love I have for this woman who walked me through Old Testament, New Testament, Pauline epistles, Pneumatology, Greek, Hermeneutics and my life for four years in a way that simply defies words. But write, I must. Even though it will fall short.)

Dr. Mattie E. Hart could have been a professor any where she wanted. She chose an obscure school in an historic town that would draw students, (and surfers) from every state to walk her halls and ride her waves. She chose small. She chose intimate. She chose to draw her classroom desks into a circle as often as space allowed and there we would sit and study together. It was her way to be eye to eye with her students.

Dr. Hart and I were immediately on opposite sides of many issues that face the modern age - but it didn't keep us from a close bond. On the contrary, our opposite views pushed us harder to defend and hold fast to our beliefs. She was kind and soft spoken, supremely intelligent, and so full of grace and understanding that I just wanted to be close to her. And sweetly, I got this chance.

I took every course she offered. She didn't give out her "A's" very willingly and I had to work harder for them than in any other class. She expected excellence from me that I didn't know I had to give. This made me angry at times, because I knew I was doing good work - she knew I could do better work. She made me see that I could demand more of myself: a rare gift. During those four years I visited her office often and was offered the sweetest most thoughtful guidance. She understood me like few had before and was able to speak love and wisdom to me during the years that I needed it most.

After graduation I did not return to the area until almost a decade later. I was able to see her at a Flager Alumni Weekend Dinner. The joy I felt upon reconnecting was so sweet - I was so sorry I had waited so long.

At that point I began to make frequent visits to St. Augustine. I would often stop in to in to see Dr. Hart. Occasionally at her home, other times sneaking into Memorial Presbyterian Church on a Sunday morning to slip in beside her on her regular pew and we would enjoy a quiet reunion together in worship of the God we had studied.

Dr. Hart loved her church there in St. Augustine, and introduced me to her pastor whom she adored. She also had continued theological studies, reading scholarly books long after she retired from teaching.

I brought my son to meet her at her home one time, weeping as I shared family struggles. She introduced David Paul to her cat, "Tommy 2", I believe, and she comforted me as I talked. On another occasion - years later, I would swing by with several family members so they could lay eyes on the woman I had talked about for years.

On one of our last long conversations she mused very candidly about her life: her sadness over never having had a family of her own, (and I reminded her of all "her children" - her students through decades of teaching.) She wondered aloud whether her mother would be proud of her - I assured her she most definitely would be. I asked her if she had another sermon to preach, what would it be. She never hesitated."Grace," she said. "I would preach about God's grace." And that was no surprise. She loved Paul's writings about the grace of God in Jesus Christ, "reconcliing the world unto Himself." Always reminding us this beautiful truth.

Our last visit at the assited living home was a quiet moment of loving her amidst few words. She asked for my address and remembered that I was her student. I held her hand and wept in thankfulness for who she was and all she had been to so many. I was so thankful for all those visits to see her and that we share an eternity ahead of us.

These beautiful hands; they wrote the tiniest, slanted, most elegant script you have ever seen, I'm so glad I got to hold them, and thankful to hold them in my heart still. I write weeping still, something about our connection always had me crying so hard.

I shared briefly at the gathering after her funeral. Choked up so so badly I may not have been intelligible, but I shared her words after Easter one year during my time at Flagler. We had met at a tiny vespers area behind the college. She asked us "What does Easter mean today?" And the next week, she asked "And what does Easter mean today?" She was insistent that we must carry the resurrection life every day - that the grace of God shown in Jesus Christ is what makes Easter real to us. Every. Single. Day. And today? Easter also means that the funeral was not final. That I will see her again. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Weeping, but thankful,