Chapter 38 - Kitchen Table Prayer
The alarm jangles and I open my eyes. Five-fifteen—still dark. But I am slowly adjusting to the day shift at MMC hospital. I dress quickly and drink strong tea. Nick (now two) is sleepy as I change his clothes and carry him downstairs to the babysitter. Kissing him, I leave sadly. Working full time I see so little of Nick, but he does have other children to play with at Lori’s.
Sunrise is reflecting from tall skyscrapers as I speed west on the freeway to Minneapolis. Soon I’m changing into blue scrubs, pulling a bright patterned cap over my hair. Peggy greets me at the nurses’ station. “We’re assigned to the same room, scrubbing together,” she says, smiling. “A hysterectomy.”
“Great.” Peggy is fun to work with—quick at surgery, circulating or scrubbed in. She’s friendly with the doctors…and she’s a Christian. We scrub in together, gown and glove, then cover the patient with sterile drapes before the doctor incises. Then there are two more cases to scrub for, and by the end of the shift I’m picking packs for operations the next day. With three floors of surgical suites, MMC is a hustling department!
In late afternoon when I carry Nicky upstairs to my apartment, I am tired and ready for a nap. But Nick is lively, talkative, so we take a stroll down the street and look for bunnies. After supper he plays in the bathtub as I wash dishes. Bible story and prayer together, a blessing on his head as I tuck him in. Then I settle on the sofa and reflect.
How long can I sustain this schedule? I barely catch up on sleep each weekend, and my paychecks are hardly covering expenses. It’s more costly to live in the Twin Cities than up north.
Saturday, I drive the five miles to my parents’ apartment. Nick begins playing with Tonka cars in the living room, lining them up in a long row. I sit with Mom and Dad at the kitchen table, sip tea, and share my heart.
“You know, I’m just making it financially. And sometimes I’m so lonely…I feel more vulnerable here in the city. I’m trying to find a church that has a singles group, that will help me grow. But I need you now. Do you think you could stay in the States another year before heading back to Irian Jaya?
My youngest brother David is in the living room watching a football game. “Oh no, Marlene,” he blurts out. “I don’t want to stay in the States any longer than I have to. I miss Dalat, and I want to graduate from high school there!”
Mom and Dad look sympathetically at me, then at David. “Well, Danny will be here, a freshman at Bethel College,” Mom reflects slowly. “He could help you some.”
I nod. “That would encourage me. But I’m thinking more of a spiritual covering, and emotional security. I don’t want to slide backwards spiritually.”
“Let’s pray about this,” Dad says. “The Lord has a plan for all of us, one that will work well.”
“Let’s ask God to send me a husband before you leave,” I suggest. “Then David can graduate from Dalat in Malaysia, and your work can still continue in Irian Jaya.”
We all bow our heads. “Lord, you see our predicament,” Dad says. “We’re leaving for the Ilaga Valley, and Marlene needs a good Christian husband to take care of her and Nick. We’re asking you to send one before we leave in June. A good provider.”
“Yes, one who will really love Marlene,” Mom adds.
“One who will love you, God, more than me!” I pray.
A week or so later Peggy and I are again at the large sinks, scrubbing in for surgery. “How are you lately?” Peggy inquires.
“Well, I’ve been lonely. I’m busy enough with work and my son, but I need good friends. I’m looking for a single parent group that meets at a church somewhere.”
“There’s one that just started at my church Souls Harbor,” Peggy exclaims. There’s this guy Larry Anderson who just began a Sunday school class for singles. Larry’s wife left him about seven years ago and he prayed for her to come back, but she remarried about five years ago. He has a daughter named Rhonda who lives with her mom.”
“Amazing…”
“In fact, I’m going over to the church after this shift ends. I could take you to meet Larry if you like. Our church just bought this old Nicollet Hotel in downtown Minneapolis, and since Larry’s a builder he’s working there to renovate rooms. We’re going to use the old hotel as a senior citizen residence.”
After work Peggy and I walk into the dining room of Souls Harbor. I wait and sip coffee as she leaves to find Larry. I am in jeans, my hair in two ponytails, with ribbons. I am curious and nervous.
Peggy and Larry appear across the large room, and I take a deep breath. This man is rugged, sandy haired, and spray painted white, like a ghostly cowboy. A stranger, yet somehow familiar. “Someone I could love,” I think to myself.
Peggy introduces us and Larry shares over coffee about the class. “It’s to help single parents grow in their faith. We’ve all been through tough times, and this group is to keep our focus on the Lord, where our help really comes from.”
I am impressed by Larry’s genuine warmth. Larry tells me later he is struck by my youthfulness. “With those ponytails you looked about 17 years old!”
I drive home slightly dazed. How can I meet someone who is committed to God and so handsome—so soon?
I begin driving to Nicollet Mall in downtown Minneapolis on Sundays to attend Larry’s class, followed by the large church service. In 1974 Souls Harbor has around 2,000 in attendance, with multiple Sunday school classes for children and adults. The worship is excellent, the sermons strong and fiery with Rev. Gordon Peterson, a nationally known radio/television evangelist.
This singles group starts small. Larry leads well, but an older lady teaches on biblical prophecy, and it doesn’t seem to meet my needs. However, in a few weeks Mrs. Prophecy becomes ill and Larry is forced to teach. He is tentative at first, beginning in Philippians and covering a few verses each week, with discussion at the end. But his practical application on rejoicing in our sufferings is applicable, and the class begins to grow.
One Sunday after class Larry and I keep talking. We wander into the service and sit together. After the sermon Gordon Peterson Jr. has us all stand, then hold hands in agreement while he prays the benediction. Larry takes my hand. It is strong, comforting. And afterwards he inquires, “Would you like to go out to lunch together?”
“That’d be great! I’ll pick up Nick from Sunday school."
The restaurant is subdued, elegant. “Lord, help Nick not to be rowdy,” I pray silently, as I feed him ice chips and crackers before the meal arrives.
“I have a daughter named Rhonda,” Larry shares. “She’s nine years old, and I often have her on weekends. I’m living at the church now, but I have a townhouse south in Bloomington. I’ll have to show it to you sometime.”
“I’d like to see it. My apartment in Roseville is a few miles from my parents. It’s so good to be near them, now that they’re back from the mission field. Growing up I felt called to be a missionary nurse, but it’s hard to imagine how that would work out now.”
“I’m interested in missions also. I helped build an airplane hangar at the Wycliffe training center in Colombia a few years ago. And visited mission work in Alaska.”
“Really!” I exclaim. I worked in Homer and the Aleutians with a mission one summer, when I was married to Zach.”
One weekend Zachary drives down from Ebro to the Twin Cities to see Nick. He takes him to visit his grandparents, and when he drops him off, we chat. “I want you to know I’m dating a guy, and it could turn serious,” I tell him. “If there’s any way you want to get back together, you should let me know. I feel the Lord wants to give you this opportunity. If I remarry, Nick will be raised by someone else who will be ‘Dad.’ You would be more like an uncle, because you won’t be able to see him as much.”
Zach pauses thoughtfully. “Thanks for letting me know. No, I’m not interested in getting back together.” He hugs Nick and kisses him. “Goodbye,” he says huskily.
I begin to see Larry more frequently. Every conversation with him is easy, open. We both have been hurt in our marriages, and now want to serve God wholeheartedly. He invites me to go skiing, but due to the bitter cold we end up talking by a blazing fire at the ski lodge. Another night we share on and on at Uncle John’s Pancake House. His tanned face glows under sandy hair, as we discuss missions, prayer, his boyhood on the farm, the single parent group.
One night I invite Larry to dinner and serve pork chops with potatoes and rich brown gravy. He loves it. And then he proposes…with me on his lap by the kitchen table, after Nick is in bed. He writes it out on a sheet of paper, “Will you marry me, Marti?”
“Yes,” I reply, looking into his blue eyes. “I will marry you!” After a kiss, I draw back. “We haven’t known each other very long, you know. This is a big decision.”
“That’s true, but we’re older—hopefully wiser—as I’m 34, you’re 27. We’re both committed to God and want to live for Him and do missions. I’ll ask your parents for permission, and I want you to meet my parents out in Monticello. They’ll love you!”
Dad is on a preaching tour with Alliance churches and won’t be back for several weeks. Larry writes him a letter asking for my hand. Meanwhile we visit his parents’ home. They’re in their 80’s, old enough to be my grandparents. Since Larry is the youngest of nine, some of his siblings there that day are my parents’ age. The family gathering is quiet, special, down home…I feel welcomed, appreciated.
“I’ve been alone for seven years,” Larry later informs me.“The family is so glad I’m marrying a good Christian girl. And one who was raised on the mission field!”
My dad answers Larry’s letter with his blessing, and we celebrate when he arrives home. Then we meet with our pastor Gordon Peterson, and his son Gordon, Jr., who agrees to marry us. The date is set for May 2, 1975.
Larry and I see each other every weekend, and he telephones every night. We talk late…I’m exhilarated and exhausted from lack of sleep. I am getting married! How is it possible God is giving me so much joy after all those long months of pain?
Our challenge is to keep the wedding simple, and the bills paid. I find a long ivory dress with a laced bodice and high back collar. Romaine will be the maid of honor, another friend the bridesmaid….we will carry bouquets of gold and white daisies.
The banquet hall at Souls Harbor is candlelit, and this time Dad walks me down the aisle. Having my parents at the wedding is so precious. For me the highlight is when we say our vows—traditional ones, slowly repeated after the pastor. Ones that will last till one of us goes to Heaven.
Jacque and Brian Lother sing, new friends on staff. And as Gordon Peterson Jr. officiates, I feel lovingly placed into a new enlarged family—Larry’s clan and his church. Nick is then dedicated to the Lord, and nine-year-old Rhonda receives a blessing. She is shy and pretty with auburn hair, in a long white dress.
“How can we be so happy!” I exclaim as we drive to our downtown hotel. “I hope Nick will cooperate with Mom and Dad these next five days—they’re not used to watching him that long.”
“You and I are one now.” Larry hugs me. “We have five whole days to enjoy each other after all the busyness of life!”
“Even if we can’t afford the ocean beach honeymoon right now, we can enjoy driving up north,” I laugh.
“Someday we’ll go to the beach…we have a whole lifetime together!”
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