Making the World a Better Place

I met Dr. Durrant a couple of weeks ago when I visited her home to pick up some papers that she had for me. For Alumni Weekend, we award several of our alums and this year, Dr. Durrant is one of our honorees. As we do write-ups for the honorees, Dr. Durrant called to see if I could come by and pick up her paperwork for the write-up.

Why, of course I can!

And so I headed over to her house late in the morning for what I assumed would be a quick, five minute visit. I mean, how long does it take to get a few papers, right?

"Come in, Dear," she said as I walked through the door that day. "Please, sit down. What can I get for you. Are you hungry? Would you like a muffin? A candy bar? How about some juice. Orange or grape. It's organic."

She wouldn't take no for an answer and so, I accepted the orange juice and had a seat at her table. She wanted to explain the paperwork to me to make sure I understood everything she had written. And so, I sat there, stunned, as she walked me through her life. Born in Egypt and raised in a Catholic home, Dr. Durrant kept me fascinated with her stories of how she eventually ended up in Texas back in the '70's after receiving her doctorate in Nursing Education. Southwestern asked her to build a nursing program from the ground up, and so, Dr. Durrant applied for a private grant of $790,000. Her application was accepted and she began the laborious process of creating a nursing program, presented it to the state and proceeded to teach and oversee the program that she herself built. During many of her years here, 100% of the nursing students passed their boards. She told me of how her husband teased her one evening when she returned home late from work: "Do I know you?" He asked.

"You must take a candy bar," Dr. Durrant insisted as I left well over an hour later. She picked up an Almond Joy. "Here, Honey, take this," she said, tucking it into my purse. "It has almonds and chocolate. You'll like it."

Yesterday I headed back over to Dr. Durrant's home because she wanted a copy of the paperwork she gave me. It reflected hours of her time as she tediously wrote the title of articles she published, positions she held, charitable work she participated in.

"Come in, Dear," she said as I knocked on the door. "I am cooking muffins. I am so sorry that my house is a mess. Please excuse my house. I wish I had time to make it look neater for you."

(Let me just say, her house was spotless.)

"Please, sit down. What can I get for you? Are you hungry? Would you like a muffin? A candy bar? How about some juice..."

And so, once again she poured me a glass of orange juice while she busily made her muffins and talked a mile a minute. She told me how she is making the muffins for the shut-ins that she visits weekly. This particular day she was also taking two friends to lunch in Cleburne. And every Tuesday she hosts Game Day at her home with a circle of friends who get together to play Rumikub or Golf.

Now let me just say, Dr. Durrant is 89 years old.

Please, God...please let me be like Dr. Durrant when I am 89 years old.

While her muffins were baking in the oven, we sat together in her living room and chatted. She asked about me, what my life is like, about my children, do I like my job...she listened with soft eyes while I explained what brought me to Texas and what my husband does now for a career.

"Oh Honey, God brought you here. God is leading in your life. I am so glad that when God says go, you follow. That's the way to live, Dear," she said.

The timer went off and Dr. Durrant got up to pull her muffins from the oven. I sat on her couch and looked out her back window at the barren yard, the tree arching up to the sky. It reminded me of time, as it always does -- how leaves come and go, how the wind blows and yet those trees bend towards the sky, their limbs ever upward.

When Dr. Durrant came back, she told me how she recently lost her best friend of over 40 years: Eva Sicher. She told me the story of how she learned of Eva's death, at how she threw down the phone and screamed when she heard the news, at how still her heart hurts from missing her friend.

When I was young, I mistakenly thought that older people accepted the death of their spouses or their close friends with complacency. It's the circle of life, for pete's sake.

I know better now. As time creeps up on me, death becomes more commonplace. And yet... I now realize that one is never prepared for the loss of a loved one. Not really.

"Take a muffin, Dear," Dr. Durrant said as I finally got up to leave.

"Dr. Durrant," I laughed. "You are going to make me fatter!"

"Oh, look at you -- going here, going there, going here, going there. You need energy for all of that going! Now here--take a muffin," she insisted, tucking one into my purse.

When I got back to the office, an email from Dr. Durrant was in my Inbox. She had a program from Union College that she wanted to share with me. And at the end of her email, she wrote, "Love you."

Sometimes people come into our lives that make us stop for a minute. If I had to write a list of all of my accomplishments, it would be a short one. (Sometimes I think I enjoy playing cards and watching sunsets from my porch far more than I should.)

But Dr. Durrant? She is that tall tree, arching upwards. The winds may blow but she keeps standing, keeps reaching.

Love you too, Dr. Durrant.

You make this world a better place.