My Jerry Falwell story

I was a student at L.U. . Back then,(and to a degree, still) L.U. was pretty strict as colleges go. I had been in trouble before. Not BIG trouble, but let's just say that I was really pushing the limits of my "freedoms" at that time. The Dean of Women already knew me by name, and when she looked at me.......she saw a bad egg.
Now, honestly....I wasn't BAD. Terribly shallow and vain, yes. But not BAD.

For instance:

You were not supposed to have a car on campus till after your freshman year. Well...when I saw how far I was going to be trekking EVERY DAY from my dorm to my fashion classes in my little black leather pumps......wehehelll...you better believe I was bringing my car! SO. There set my little mustang, parked in all the WRONG places, (but miraculously close to whereever I needed to be). The floorboard was piled ankle-high with unpaid parking tickets. No lie. (PLEASE do not bring this up to my father!)

There was also a little run in w/ the dean of women about supposedly seeing MY car over at Race's off campus apartment, at some ungodly hours.After curfew. Honestly....I don't remember a thing about all that. Or about falsifying a permission slip...Threatened expulsion.....I don't remember. Don't ask me, anymore.

O.K, so you get the picture: They KNEW me down at the Dean of Women.

Jump to my 3rd year:
I desperately wanted to move off campus. And my dad, being the businessman that he is, saw this as a golden opportunity to save some money. No more room and board, no more unpaid parking tickets, etc, etc. So, he bought a townhouse. Myself and a good friend moved in immediately. WOO-HOO!! FREEDOM! Well, apparently there were rules and such about all this.(picture me looking innocently at my dad, asking "what? what rules??") Right away,I get a handy note from the same Dean of Women, saying that I, in fact COULD NOT live off campus yet, and that I'd better have all my stuff back w/in the week, as well as a butt load of paper work signed and brought to her office, or I was EXPELLED!

So there I was. I had dragged my dad into this. HE had PURCHASED the townhouse. My roommate also, was COUNTING on this. SHe had nowhere else to go. The pressure was on. I cried. Then I went to see the Dean, and I cried some more. I made my case. She gleefully stood her ground. (My GOODNESS she was an unhappy woman). I figured I'd better head straight to the top.

Dr. Falwell had a studio on campus. I was desperate. I had exhausted all other options. I found out when he would be taping. I parked myself in front of that door early that day. (O,K, thinking back, it was probably like 10:00 am. Bu that was EARLY for me...) But, BLASTED! He was already in there! (sigh) He had to come out some time. I waited. For 4 hours,...4HOURS! I waited.

And then- some scrawny, media kid who was helping with the set, emerged from the room. I woke myself from my half-dazed state. "PLEASE, please, you have to let me in to see Dr. Falwell! You HAVE to! I've GOT TO GET in there! HE's the only one that can help me....PLEASE!" I pleaded, tearing at his sleeve and choking back the tears. He stuck his head back in and then in a monotone voice said, "Yeah, go ahead...their on a break".

I stepped into the studio. It looked just like a ......studio. There were cameras and bright lights and a set crew. There were fake bookshelves and fake books. And there, behind the desk of his fake study sat Dr. F@lwell. (He had a real study too, of course, but this was what they taped in.) He quickly motioned me over.

He was one of those people who was larger than life. I immediately forgot about the rest of the set crew, as he kindly said, "Now, now...what's so bad? What I can I do for you?"

Well. I'll tell ya. I broke down. I started bawling, and sputtering the most incomprehensible string of nonsense you have ever heard. I was going to hell and I knew it. I was TRULY sorry for what I had done, but now other people were going to have to PAY for it.I was a miserable wretch.

I don't know what he heard. Probably alot of crying, sniffling, and the words "off-campus", "dad paid", and "so sorry". But mid-blubbering he picked up the phone, dialed the deans office, and said, "Melissa M has my permission to live off campus." *click* Then he patted my hand and said, "Now, now....try not to be too hard on the dean. She's just trying to do her job. You just go on and do your best in school. Is there anything else that I can help you with?" *sniff, sniff. blink blink* "Um, no sir. Thank-you so much sir". (red faced, teary eyed smile, as I realized that my young life had been spared, and life would, in fact. go on.) As I turned to go, I realized that about 10 other people had also witnessed me spilling my guts and wailing in despair. But I didn't care.

Within 5 minutes, I was on the other side of the door again. A new girl. A girl determined to live right. To put her black-hearted past behind her, and live right.

I can honestly say, that I have NEVER seen the man turn down helping ANYONE. EVER.

He was a man of unflinching character.Therefore, you either love him or you hate him. And he was o.k. with that. He stood for what he believed in, no matter what. ANd THAT's pretty tough to find these days.

I did live off campus that year.
ANd it was that very same townhouse that Race and I moved into after we were married.
Dr. Falwell led us and prayed with us as we dedicated all 3 of our children to Christ when each one was a baby.

Austin was baptized by him.

So, that's my story.

What an enormous impact one person can make on the world. Race is sitting in the middle of the dessert on the other side of the world. He has no phone and no email. He had already heard the news. Amazing.

G'night