Chapter 21 - Christmas Trees and Candles

Reflecting back, I realize what large decisions I was making during this time—confirmation of calling, whom to marry, what stream of the body of Christ I will flow in. These choices affect the direction of my whole life.

The summer after my first year of nurses training Zach joins a mission trip to Ecuador where he lives among tribal people, assisting with a building project. I miss him desperately but am glad for the grassroots experience he is having. Eagerly looking for letters during our five-week summer break, I continue to work shifts at the hospital.

But I’m not excited about hospital nursing…I come to dread these eight-hour stints. Finally, I ask God whether I should continue nurses training! “Lord, I want to do your will. But I don’t enjoy taking care of people in a hospital. Is this really your purpose—and will I feel satisfied ministering medically among a tribe for the rest of my life? Is this the best way you can use me?

In time I have peace to continue. I am in God’s will…this is the training He has for me now.

Later in the summer Zach flies to Anchorage to assist in a building project with Alaska Village Missions. He extends the trip to work in salmon fishing for a couple of weeks, earning good wages. When he returns after visiting his parents in Arizona our reunion is sweet. “I missed you so much,” I whisper as he hugs me tight.

Zach proposes that fall and together we look at diamonds in downtown Minneapolis. He has the ring designed with a curve where the diamond would be set. One evening after an elegant dinner he slips the ring on my finger and kisses me. “I love you…we’ll have our whole lives together!”

“No more long months apart,” I agree.

Back in the dorm Cyndie Rydholm rejoices with me, laughing. Later that night I hold my ring up to the light and watch its flashing rainbow fire. “Thank you, Lord, thank you.” Zach had written my parents and asked for my hand…they gave permission. We plan to be married in a year and a half, after I graduate, and they are home on furlough.

The following summer I am alone again, making more money as a student nurse, but desperate for closeness and family. Zach is in Scottsdale, Arizona with his parents, and most classmates are home with family. I reach out to my friend Cyndie, who is living in the dorm also. We sometimes pray together, and I sense that she has more spiritual strength than I. Cyndie comes from a Pentecostal background, and one evening she invites me to a prayer meeting at North Central Bible College. I walk with her across the park to the college, hungry for more of God.

I remember back to my senior high school year in Michigan when Dad and I once attended a Catholic charismatic service. Nuns and priests and others were worshipping, singing in the Spirit. God’s presence was so strong! I had wanted to press into what they had but didn’t know how.

So, at the meeting I ask for prayer…I want the filling, the baptism in the Holy Spirit. Students lay hands on my shoulders and pray. I confess any sin, unforgiveness, any dealing with the occult in my past. They pray. I pray. I want all I can get from God!

Nothing seems to change—I don’t feel anything or speak in tongues. The leader encourages me, “Some will receive when they’re alone and not self-conscious. But there is a choice to receiving in faith. It’s like Peter getting out of the boat when he wanted to walk to Jesus on the water. He had to swing his legs out and walk. So—just open your mouth and speak!”

I thank him, and Cyndie and I walk home. Later, alone in my pink-curtained bedroom I pray again. “Alright, Jesus. I asked you for the baptism in the Holy Spirit, and you promised to give Him. So I receive.” And I open my mouth and begin speaking in slow syllables. I realize I am saying “All el u ia” very slowly. And then the prayer language comes. A slow rushing of unknown words, like a flowing river. And I feel very peaceful, full of joy. I am full—of Him!

I run down to Cyndie’s room to give her the good news. “He answered! I’m speaking in tongues!” She hugs me, we pray in the Spirit together, and then I go to bed.

This peace and joy fill me for days and weeks as I continue to seek the Lord. But it slowly tapers off. Not realizing how much I need fellowship and worship to keep momentum, fullness in God, I slow down. And have less power to obey wholeheartedly.

When Zach returns for fall semester to St. Paul Bible we see each other every weekend. Campfires by the Mississippi River walks in Minnehaha Park near the statue of Hiawatha and Minnehaha, a hike at Taylor Falls. We attend Rosedale Alliance Church on Sundays, enjoying Rev. Hall’s sincere preaching and pastoral care.

The fall of my senior year I also have one family member near me. Romaine has decided to become a nurse also, so she is a freshman in a nearby dorm at Swedish Hospital. We each have long blond hair with bangs and wear the same style glasses. And we look so much alike that when on the same hospital floor for clinicals a nursing instructor mixes us up. “Oh—I thought you were Romaine,” she apologizes, laughing.

By this fall Zach and I have been dating for almost three years. We are close emotionally, spiritually, and too close physically. We are sowing bad seed into our relationship, though not actually sleeping together. Should we get married before next summer? Mom and Dad would miss the wedding—a profound loss. There have been so many sacrifices of time, of celebrations missed through the years. I would be adding another loss.

We consider, pray, communicate with our parents, and finally set the date for Dec. 19, before Christmas. I don’t fully realize the deep cost to Mom and Dad until later.

Perusing bridal dresses, I find an exquisite ivory gown on sale with a princess waist and longer train. Romaine likes it...I am excited as I carry it back to the dorm. The bridesmaids will wear cranberry red velvet dresses, carry white fur muffs. The wedding will be elegant!

On December 19th Zach’s parents help decorate Rosedale Alliance Church. Three Christmas trees glow on each side of the altar, with lighted candles in front. Snow has begun to fall the night before—big thick flakes that drift and pile high. So, on the night of the wedding, of the 300 invited, only around 100 are able to attend. Dr. Conley the missionary from Indonesia walks me down the aisle to Zachary, handsome in his tuxedo, brown hair freshly cut. St Francis Assisi’s song rings out, “Let Me be an Instrument of Thy Peace,” and at the end “So Send I You to Labor Unrewarded,” a mission song of commitment. Rev. Hall officiates as Zach and I say our vows.

I am so happy.

But I miss Mom and Dad. From my side of the family there is only Romaine, standing next to me as the Maid of Honor, encouraging, supportive.

After the reception we greet guests and celebrate with cake until most have driven away through the snowdrifts. Then we step lightly through the powdered sugar sidewalk to Zach’s car. “We’re really married!” he exclaims.

“I can hardly believe it!” I laugh. “A dream is come true.”