Read My Story

Every time we tell our story, we reveal and conceal.

Read Diana's Story

I grew up in a trailer park on the banks of Lake Erie in Ohio. My parents had immigrated while still in their teens, and I was born in America, just barely. Being the first generation in this country meant I had to work hard to negotiate a bewildering set of expectations and cultural norms: no matter where I was, I always felt a little lost.

So I spent a lot of time reading stories that nourished my imagination, and almost as soon as I started reading, I started writing.

It never occurred to me that I couldn’t write.

When I went away to college, I couldn’t decide on my major, so I chose Art and English and Education. When I graduated, I taught high school (Art and English) during the week, and I worked on the weekend interviewing Christian musicians, going to concerts, and writing music reviews. One day, I visited North Park University in Chicago to ask if they had an opening for someone who loved to teach. I was interviewed and hired on the spot to teach writing and direct their Writing Center.

Once again, someone had thrown open a door and made room for me.

I sat at Ely Cathedral waiting for the worship service to start. I don’t know that I had ever been in a place so majestic and so full of history: stained glass windows, marble sculptures, soaring ceilings, and the tombs of great saints. It was minutes before the service was to start when the organizer walked over to me and asked if I would be willing to read the scripture passage from the pulpit.

“Willing?” I asked.  “Willing? Oh, yes. But I grew up in a trailer park. I’m willing, but not worthy.”

He laughed and handed me his Bible. I doubt I had ever been so scared or so very grateful. Someone had thrown open a door and made room for me.

Years later, I find myself teaching in the Honors College at Azusa Pacific University. It’s a four-year Great Books program. We explore life’s questions together, and we read books that represent the widest possible variety of authors, perspectives, time periods, and genres. Each one opens the door wider to greater understanding and insight. Each one builds a bridge, a vital connection, between cultures, people, times, and places.

Teaching is my happy place. I love the classroom, and Monday is the best day of the week.

I love my home—a little yellow house in Southern California with an unkempt garden and an old oak tree.

And I share it all with two scruffy rescues: Jackson McCatterson (mostly miniature schnauzer) is high-energy and loves everybody. Angelica Schuyler (we call her Jelly or Jellybean) is one big lovebug.

I still make art occasionally. I work on the potter’s wheel, but it’s mostly watercolor these days, and I like taking pictures.

“Like Lewis, I love long hikes, and like Tolkien, I love trees.  Despite the advice of my betters, “I still write about everything and anything—mostly because I can’t make up my mind.”

At the end of the day, I’m endlessly fascinated with C.S. Lewis and his friendship with J.R.R. Tolkien. It turns out that my two favorite authors were friends who worked together, argued with each other, met often, and brought out the best in each other. I am still learning all I can about them because the more I know, the more they inspire me with their lives, books, and transforming faith.

“Studying them—and meeting with people who love them too—always brings out the best in me.”

 

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