Epilogue

I sit by the glittering tree late this Christmas Eve and count the years since I trimmed a small Charlie Brown tree as a single parent.

Fifty years…can it be? I was a pastor’s wife, separated from Zachary because of his unfaithfulness. Chubby Nick was sleeping in his crib in the next room. Christmas day I was scheduled as charge nurse at the Fosston Hospital on the swing shift. I gazed somberly at the twinkling lights, astonished at my circumstances.

Mom and Dad were a world away, among the Dani tribe in Irian Jaya, Indonesia. I missed them desperately—and my beloved Ilaga Valley, with the tribal Christmas festivities. What did my future hold, I wondered. Could I ever become a mission worker, as I planned?

I gazed past the wooden rocking chair to the tree beyond, and my breath caught. Someone was sitting in the chair. I looked carefully. Jesus—regal, compassionate, in a white robe—looking at me with loving eyes. “It’s going to be alright,” He assured me.

I believed Him. The room was filled with His presence. He was Christmas.

Every year since then (except while traveling), I have met with Jesus by the Christmas tree. My center point North Star in this revolving world. Life—security. Larry and I have now been married 48 years. Nick and Jared are mature men. Fifteen unique grandchildren!

We have visited Irian Jaya (now Papua, Indonesia) twice, lived in Malaysia, India, and Cairo (Egypt), ministering with Youth With A Mission. Endured trials, celebrated victories. We continue to take mission/teaching trips.

Nothing quite compares to the deep pain of 1973. But through every tumult or crisis there runs through the deep coal mine of my subconscious this River of unexplainable joy. Eternal perspective. Everything will be alright.

He is here.