Chapter 3 - Beginnings

Every kid wants to hear of their origin, their genesis… “How did you and Mom meet, Dad?”

February of 1946 Dad is playing clarinet in the Washington D.C. army band. Mom works at the Pentagon as a secretary, and attends evening classes at the Washington Bible Institute. She was raised on a Kentucky farm, was the first in her family to give her life to the Lord. She feels called to be a missionary.

Dad, the son of a grocer in Jamestown, New York, has had two years of college, majoring in music. He begins to attend the evening Bible classes at the Institute, and Gordon meets Peggy O'neil at a party for the students! He is struck by this honey brown beauty, walks her home several times, stopping at a donut shop for coffee.

They start dating, discuss mission work, attend church together…Dad begins to feel God’s call to spread the Gospel “to the regions beyond.” In May he proposes on the back steps of the Capitol where his band usually plays. They marry in August, and after he is discharged from the army they attend Nyack Missionary Training Institute the fall of 1946.

What dovetailing of temperament, interest, gifting, and calling take place for two to know they should walk through life together? Is it conscious or more subconscious? Is this “knowing” a deep peace from God in one’s spirit?

Peggy O’neil was stylish and articulate, organized and efficient. She had a quick tongue, was decisive. Gordon was more thoughtful, serious, with an avid interest in music, books, teaching. He looked like a young professor with his glasses and clean cut brown hair. He could be absent minded, but had an openness that drew people out.

By the time I was born in September of 1947 they had transferred to Houghton College in upstate New York, and Mom had stopped studies to care for me. Romaine, my cute baby sister was born two years later, and by the time I was four Mom and Dad had been assigned by the Christian and Missionary Alliance to Dutch New Guinea (now Papua, Indonesia).

Since there are many tribal languages in New Guinea Mom and Dad are required to take two summers of training at the Institute of Linguistics in Oklahoma. The second summer Romaine and I stay six weeks with each set of grandparents. I am five then, and adjust fairly well to Grandma and Grandpa Larson’s home in Jamestown, New York. I am told Mom and Dad will be back after their trip, which to me is vaguely in the future.

I love exploring their square framed house—painted light green, with dark paneling in the living and dining rooms. The center stairs can be reached through two swinging doors…I sit in the dark at the base of the stairs, and listen to grownups talk. Upstairs Ro and I sleep in Dad and Uncle Dewey’s twin beds and listen to cars whoosh by on the bricked street below.

One morning I sit on the front screened porch, Romaine and I sipping milk-coffee with homemade buttered rye bread. So delicious! I ask for refills, more bread—and Grandma is gracious, spoiling us between bouts of energetic cleaning. Later we explore the gabled attic where trunks, boxes, and old toys are kept.

But our transition to the other grandparents in Kentucky is somewhat traumatic. We drive for hours, are transferred to the Bowman’s car, and I howl in pain, not understanding our summer must be split between relatives.

Life smooths into rhythm, however, and I adjust. Ro and I explore the Kentucky farm near Glasgow, swing on the front porch, enjoy playing with cousins Brenda and Martha. Grandma has many chores, so mostly Aunt Christine and Aunt Sue care for us. But Grandma sews beautiful dresses for us—she’s a great seamstress. Sundays after church we have fried chicken, rolls, salad, watermelon as uncles and aunts gather. Clan life is relaxed, whole. In the evenings we have Bible reading and prayer in the front living room.

We reunite with Mom and Dad joyfully in August…eventually drive back to New York where metal drums are packed with clothes and household goods to last four years, passports obtained, and there are final interviews with the mission leaders of the Christian and Missionary Alliance.

Snowy December is when we will board a Dutch freighter to cross the ocean. I am five years old, and excited.