Chapter 26 - Dancing Sunlight

We fly back to New York City, pick up our motorcycle from the docks and ride it to Buffalo, where Uncle Dewey and Aunt Petey welcome us with a great meal, snug bedroom, and an openness to hear our tales of travel. Next we drive on to Mom and Dad’s university apartment in Ann Arbor, Michigan where Dad is fervently working on his PhD program. Dan and David are 14 and 12 now…they listen to our adventures and tell their own.

“We were so worried about you after you crossed the Channel into France, Mom exclaims. “Several postcards arrived from England, and then nothing for weeks! We were praying a lot!

Finally, postcards began coming again. Mail from the Continent must be slower.”

“I’m sorry you all were worried, Mom. But so glad letters started coming through.”

After a few days we hug them goodbye and cycle on to Minnesota, arriving soon before fall semester begins. St. Paul Bible College is now west of the Twin Cities on a former Jesuit campus near St. Bonifacius and is now named Crown College! We find a one-bedroom upstairs apartment next to a small lake in Excelsior, ten miles from the campus. There are large trees and rippling waves right outside our windows! I wake to dancing sunlight on the ceiling, waves reflecting the golden light, and my spirit soars.

We sell the trusty Bonneville cycle to pay for tuition, then both look for work to pay living expenses—Zachary in construction, me in nursing. We have only Zach’s white truck for transportation, so my work needs to be close to the apartment. And incredibly, I am hired part time at a doctors’ office right across the street!

I am elated to be a married student with no dorm rules. Dr. Conley our mentor-friend is still part of the faculty…I take his missions class, other Bible courses. Flowing into my calling I have confidence, purpose, even delight in life. For a while I’m rising early to meet with the Lord, even though I’m a night owl! Zach’s carpentry work is erratic, so we pray earnestly for more remodeling jobs. And I try to show God’s love at the clinic, to be consistent.

The year passes quickly. One afternoon second semester we interview with Dr. LeRoy Johnston as missionary candidates with the Christian and Missionary Alliance (C&MA). I am curious about the process and expectations. Dr. Johnston is young and full bearded—even though it’s against our college rules to have a beard. He is warm, interested in us…but it becomes clear from the interview that he is more interested in Zachary’s credentials and application than mine. I am the wife who will follow along and support Zach’s ministry.

Each senior is given an opportunity to share their testimony during morning chapel…and I am gratified to relate my journey. The Lord has been so faithful to lead me from spiritual babyhood in Homejo to this point where I can launch with Zach into ministry. I share wholeheartedly—it seems people are moved.

My family, Zach’s family are all there as we receive diplomas at graduation. Grandma and Grandpa Hofer host a sumptuous reception for us afterwards…and Zach and I pray over our next step. The Alliance requires two years of home service before we are sent into missions—where can we serve?

I had mentioned to Zachary one evening, “There’s a small card on the campus bulletin board to recruit workers for Child Evangelism Crusade in Kingman, Arizona. Your parents would love to have us near them in Arizona for a while. Maybe we should call the number and check it out.”

“Sure, why don’t you call them!”

The lady who answers sounds older. “Yes, I would love to have a young couple working with me. Let me know when you can come and visit.”

Again, we decide to motorcycle…it is so much cheaper, and more fun! Browsing, looking at different makes and models we settle on a 950cc Harley Sportster, load it with a banana seat, a chopped front end, and a tail light shaped like a Jerusalem cross. It is hot! And it comes with a monthly payment.

The road trip to Arizona is both exhilarating and tiring. We have engine trouble south of Denver and spread sleeping bags in a piney rest area near Larkspur. The next morning we rumble into Colorado Springs where a friendly young mechanic named Jim lets Zach borrow tools to work on the cycle himself. The work takes hours, and Jim extends more kind hospitality. “You guys can stay with my wife and me. We live nearby and have a spare bedroom.”

“Wow,” Zach replies, “Thanks so much!”

We walk to their white painted home where four dogs share the fenced front yard. Jim and Julie look like a hippy Romeo and Juliet! Julie is six months pregnant—pretty, with long dark hair. She manages well, with limited resources.

“We want to find 10 acres out east on the plains, where we can have room for our dogs to run,” Jim confides over supper.

“That’s great,” I answer. “The view of the mountains is beautiful. Our dream is to assist with a ministry here in the States for two years, and then live overseas. I grew up among the tribespeople in New Guinea, so we’ll probably end up there.”

“Yeah, Marti’s a nurse and I’m a builder, so we can give practical help, Zachary adds. “And we’ll also teach people about Jesus.”

“Are you guys Christians?” I ask. “Do you know the Lord in your hearts?”

“Not really,” Jim answers. “We’re not church goers, but we like to help people.”

“Well, you’ve sure helped us,” Zach declares. “We’re really grateful. You should read the Bible sometimes, check out a good church.”

“We’ll pray you find one…and that you get your 10 acres on the plains!” I add.

“Thank you,” Julie says, smiling at me.

The next day, while Zach and Jim are at the cycle shop I wander downtown Colorado Springs, walk around the big square, and in front of the courthouse. In 1971 the population is over 200,000. The city seems solid and friendly, frontier-like, with Pikes Peak rising to 14,000 feet behind it. I little dream that someday this area will be my long-term home.

After two nights the Sportster is repaired. We hug Jim and Julie goodbye and roar off to Scottsdale, a suburb of Phoenix, where Zachary’s parents are expecting us. Their home on the winding canal has a distant view of purple-blue mountains, even a swimming pool in which to relax.

“Welcome!” Dad greets us. They are excited for us to check out the ministry in Kingman, 40 miles north. It would be so special to live near family since my parents are heading back to their mission work in Irian Jaya.

Our few days in Kingman prove interesting as we get to know spry Miss Harvey in charge of Child Evangelism. She has two large mobile homes, one full of supplies, the other in which she lives. That weekend she wants to reach out to children at the county fair.

“Would you two be willing to dress up like clowns and bring the children in?” she queries. “I have the costumes and face paint.”

“Sure,” Zach laughs. I’m more hesitant. I’ve never been a clown before!

It’s quite an experience. Bright garbed, and with our faces painted we wander through the fairgrounds inviting children to our tent where Miss Harvey shares Bible stories and encourages each child to accept Jesus into their heart. About 15-20 children listen, and some accept the Lord.

We cycle back to Phoenix, somewhat dubious about the adventure. Who will disciple these children? Would it be better to reach the parents with the Bible truth first? Mom and Dad Smith appreciate our reasoning, and after prayer Zachary and I decide to head back to Minnesota and interview for church openings with the district superintendent in St. Paul. The choices of our lives lead us in unexpected ways. I have no idea that the next open door I pass through will change the whole course of my life.

Rev. Leo Bereth in St. Paul does have a church opening for us. “It’s on the edge of White Earth Indian Reservation up north, west of Bemidji,” he explains. “Rather like a missions outreach, really. An older man has renovated the church in the hamlet of Ebro, and a Bible school student is filling in on Sundays…there’s just a handful of people attending. The parsonage nearby needs renovation—are you interested in checking it out?”

“Sure!” Zach replies. “It sounds like a good opportunity.”

So on clear fall day Zach and I, Mom and Dad, and Grandpa Hofer drive north to Ebro to attend a morning service. I am excited that morning as we pass forest and fields from Bagley to Ebro. What will this hamlet be like? The roadside sorrel bushes have turned red. Gold and green meadows roll out on either side of the road as we turn south. We pass scattered trees, turn left…and there is Ebro! A few houses, a tiny post office, a railroad track we bump over.

“Is that it?” I ask, surprised.

“It must be. We’ll have to cross back and turn south after the railroad track,” Zach murmurs. We do that, then crunch slowly up a graveled road, past a few houses. There on the right is a neat brown church, and further up the hill a parsonage with peeling paint, backed up to green forest.

We park in the grassy field near the church and walk in. The whitewashed sanctuary has rich brown beams crisscrossing the raised ceiling, and rows of wooden pews on either side of an aisle. Up front there are five women and children, with the visiting Bible school student in the pulpit. He welcomes us cheerfully and continues the service as we slide into pews.

I breathe deeply. Is this our new home? An outpost among whites and Ojibwe (Chippewa) native Americans, next to old railroad tracks? I do like frontiers…and tribespeople. It would be adventurous! Perhaps I could find a small hospital to work in.

We drive back to the Twin Cities, pray more, and accept the assignment. Zach and I commit to two years of pastoring the church in Ebro, building up God’s little flock.

When we pack our belongings at the Excelsior apartment, the sunlight shimmers on the ceiling. It dances, cavorts, bounces, and laughs, reflecting the dancing waves. “I’m going to miss this special home,” I confess to Zachary. “I loved our last year of college and living near my family this summer as they moved here from Michigan.”

“Yeah, it’s been special. But we’ll have adventures up north. It’ll be good too.”