My mind’s eye viewed the dense chorus of blooming shasta daisies growing happily next to our front porch from spring through late summer. The foliage was thick and the white tops stood tall, but in the front row a half dozen bowed their white heads into the grass.  I understood. “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever” (Isaiah 40:8). My thoughts hold memories of the past, awareness of the present, and anticipation of the future.

 

Our little, white, cape cod styled house had no dormers, but it sat high on a large, corner lot. This was my childhood home for my first ten years. A long driveway angled up and ended at a detached, one car garage which my father turned into a playhouse for his daughters.  Dad’s homemade swing set lined the driveway. He painted a hopscotch on the asphalt, and hung a basketball hoop above the garage door. A teeter totter and tether ball on a tall pole in the backyard gave more playing experience. Behind them a carefully tended vegetable garden completed the view.  My parent’s intention was to make our property the playground of our neighborhood, located in the north end of Findlay, Ohio. And so it was.

 

My father claimed that everyone under 103 is a child. He loved people and loved to share the gospel, the good news. So, he became a pastor, and I loved being a pastor’s kid (PK). Dad was a church planting pastor. He was an evangelist. For years he also taught religious education in public schools in Ohio. At church he loved to organize and lead Vacation Bible School in the summers. Dad’s personality was vibrant. Mom quietly supported him with her reserved reasonableness. 

 

If this is supposed to be about me, it first must be about my precious parents. I miss them so much. From both my parents, I imbibed their love of beauty, order, our Creator-Savior, and people so loved by God (John 3:16). I would like to draw from my father’s love of writing poetry, a penning of prose pointing people to the Lord . From my mother, I would like to draw her steadfast kindness and interest in people. 

 

I am now 70 years old. I remember when my parents were 70. I suppose you’ve read my little bio paragraph on the front page of this website. My parents sent my sister and me to our church college, Grace College in Winona Lake, Indiana. From there I moved to California to teach at a Christian high school. This is a big saga I could tell you sometime. The bottom line is that no part of me wanted to move to California. No one in my family wanted me to move to California. My parents and sister supported me in making this decision because we all recognized that the Lord was leading me there, so I must go. There, I met Paul Olsen, a San Jose State University aeronautics student.  Two years later, he followed me to Ohio where we married. That was 44 years ago. God blessed my obedience with a fairy tale story life in California, culminating in the gift of a God-tailored husband, just right for me. And we were a God-tailored midwestern family, just right for this California boy.

 

Paul and I have danced many dances together. Within the first year of marriage, we faced Paul’s first round of cancer, which returned five years later. Miraculously, God gave us two beautiful girls. Since we only have two, God decided to give us the greatest diversity by not repeating much in the way of personality, interests, and even looks. One has dark hair and eyes and the other is a blue eyed blond. Both are capable, talented leaders. Now, we have four beautiful grandchildren who are taught God’s Word and are loved in their home. Daily, we pray for them. 

 

Now, I’m praying for you. God has given me a new adventure in my retirement years. As long as my heart is beating, I need a ministry — a way of contributing. God gave me the love of study. Especially in the last twenty-two years, He has narrowed my physical activity range. God leads us in many ways, but one way is through the “Yes’s” and “No’s” of life. The more “No’s”, the more obvious the “Yes’s” become. My new adventure is through the publication of this book and the development of this website. I hope to add audio or video recordings (maybe a podcast) and free material (articles and printable handouts) to go along with the book and possibly subsequent publications or books. We’ll see.

 

As the Gaithers’ have prayed, “Gentle Shepherd, come and lead us, for we need you to help us find our way. Gentle Shepherd, come and feed us for we need your strength from day to day. There’s no other we can turn to who can help us face another day! Gentle Shepherd, come and lead us, for we need you to help us find our way.”

The foliage was thick and the white tops stood tall, but in the front row a half dozen bowed their white heads into the grass.