I have not posted here since last August. I just re-read what I wrote then. It was an upbeat description of my activities last summer and my plans for fall. Since then, my life has been turned upside down.
At the same time that I was writing that blog post, Trinity Christian College, where I work, was careening towards crisis. New student enrollment for the fall semester was down sharply. Like many small, private colleges, Trinity had a not insignificant amount of debt. In the middle of August, the President announced he was leaving. In the middle of September, the Vice President of Academic Affairs also left. I become an Associate Vice President of Academic Affairs while keeping my roles as Dean of Faculty and Professor of History. Cost-savings plans were implemented. Uncertainty about the future of the institution reached a fever pitch by the middle of the semester. At the beginning of November, Trinity’s Board of Trustees voted to close the school in May 2026.
During November and December, the Trinity community worked came to grips with this new reality. It was much like grieving the death of a family member, except that normally when someone’s family member dies, coworkers tell them to take some time off and come back when they’re ready. This was a death that affected everyone at the same time, no one could take time off, and everyone’s work became harder. Faculty and staff members also suddenly had to spend hours every evening pursuing new employment. The emotional toll was great. The loss was also different for different people – for students, for staff members, for faculty members, for alumni, and for members of surrounding communities. Individuals worked through the stages of grief in different ways and at different rates. I attempted to serve the community in my new role even as I was applying for positions at other colleges and universities.
Because the decision to close in May was made by the Board in November, our students were put in an excellent position to explore their options moving forward. Multiple institutions offered to be teach-out schools; they promised that Trinity students could finish their degree in the same amount of time and with the same amount of financial aid. Making that decision in the fall, however, also meant that students could transfer in January, which would further endanger Trinity’s financial position. Faculty members, staff members, and administrators worked to encourage students to return for their final semester at Trinity. We learned in January that we had met our goal of having 85% of eligible students continue in the spring.
This semester, the experience of working at an institution that is closing has felt less like dealing with a death and more like caring for a family member who is on hospice. There are good days and bad days. There are constant reminders of the coming loss. Faculty and staff members have been going for interviews at other institutions. Some have secured positions. Many have not.
I’m sorry for the weight of this post so far. Writing gives me an opportunity to process the events of the last six months. I am working at the desk in the upstairs back corner of Trinity’s library. This is where I started the project in January of 2016, and this is where I read many books and wrote most of my blog posts. For more than ten years, I have come here once a week so that I can work for several hours without being interrupted by visitors or phone calls.
My own personal and family situation is somewhat brighter. I applied for twenty-five jobs at other colleges and universities, some teaching positions and some administrative positions. I received many rejection letters, had seven zoom interviews, and did three on-campus interviews. At the beginning of February, I accepted an offer to be Professor of History and Humanities and the Chair of the Department of History, Political Science, and Sociology at Geneva College in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania. I begin work there in August. Geneva is my alma mater. I grew up about an hour away from the school. I met my wife Paula at Geneva. Our three sons have attended Geneva; our youngest will be graduating in May. So after living for twenty-nine years in the Midwest—six years in Iowa and twenty-three here in Chicagoland—I will be going home. I am incredibly thankful to God for His goodness.
Accepting a position has enabled me to concentrate on serving the needs of the Trinity community in as many ways as I can. There are now twelve teach-out schools for Trinity students, so underclassmen have a variety of options. Unfortunately, there are no teach-outs for faculty and staff members. I serve on the Faculty Development Committee, and we have done several workshops on the job search. I have worked to find openings at other schools that faculty members might apply for and have been reaching out to contacts with recommendations of Trinity faculty members. In addition, everything that we do this semester is “the last time that we do x,” so I’m both working to continue good traditions and to mark their end in a meaningful way. There will be a celebration of Trinity’s legacy the evening of May 7, the day before the last commencement service. There will also be a last reunion of History students, faculty members and alumni the afternoon of May 8, before commencement that evening.
At home, my wife and I have been working to prepare our house for sale. Weeks of painting and decluttering will climax this weekend when all of our children and our two grandchildren will be home for Easter. My sons will help me take metal to the recycling center and furniture to the thrift store. We have a pile of things for our children to sort through. We have made one trip to western PA to look at houses and will probably make another once our house is on the market, Lord-willing in the middle of April.
Obviously, these activities have meant that promotion of A Prairie Faith has been limited. I did participate in a panel of alumni authors and a book signing at Geneva College’s Homecoming at the end of last October. This month I received a royalty statement from Eerdmans and learned that the book has sold over 1400 copies in the two years since its release. Depending on what source you consult, something like 90% of books published sell fewer than 1000 copies (some say 96% of books sell fewer than 1k), so I feel very fortunate. To readers who have promoted the book to your family and friends: my deepest thanks.
This blog post feels like a bundle of endings. The school where I have taught for twenty-three years is closing. Trinity was founded in 1959, so it was in existence for sixty-six years, and I have worked here for a third of its history. My time in the Midwest is also ending.
The first entry on this blog was posted on January 4, 2016. At that point, my hope was to write an article about Laura Ingalls Widler’s faith, and that spring I set out to read one of the Little House books each week and blog about how it engaged faith, the church, and Christianity. The project spawned a book proposal that was accepted in 2017. It took me five years to complete the manuscript, which I submitted after a sabbatical in 2022. Revisions, editing, and indexing took another two years, and A Prairie Faith was released in February 2024. It has been reviewed positively by publications with both large and small circulations. It has won two awards. I did a number of appearances, both in-person and online, to promote the book in 2024 and 2025. Now it appears that all of this work is coming to an end. I will likely pursue a new research project once I have settled in at Geneva. It seems fitting if this is the end of this blog as well.
I’m not quite ready to completely close the door on this project, this blog, or the Faith of Laura Ingalls Wilder website. I may post again if I have Wilder-related news. This is the ninety-eighth post I have done. Perhaps I can get to one hundred. I’ve put links to some of the milestones of the project at the end.
Multiple times in the Little House books, and in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s life, the ending of an adventure in one location led to new hope in a new place. Some have noted that there are no accounts of a person dying in the Little House books – the only death of a character is that of Jack the bulldog at the beginning of By the Shores of Silver Lake. Confronting death and failure is always difficult, and broader American culture celebrates life and success. In some ways, the Little House books reject that emphasis by providing multiple examples of the Ingalls family facing failure head-on and remaining optimistic. I myself have seen glimpses of God’s goodness even in the broader loss of a future for Trinity. As Ma said, “there’s no great loss without some small gain.”
Thanks for going with me on this journey. I have been carried along by your emails and encouragement. Speaking of emails, in the future, you can reach me at johnjfry@proton.me.
Goodbye for now.
Links
Foreword Reviews INDIES Book of the Year Award
The Book – Includes a brief rundown of the road to publication
Launch – January 4, 2025
The Faith of Laura Ingalls Wilder 