So eager to begin our family, I completed the last three months of teaching with morning sickness. At the same time, Conrad developed an excruciating pain and weakness in his left arm. A week in the hospital for tests, biopsy, and spinal tap, yielded a diagnoses of Idiopathic Brachial Plexitis. The pain finally abated by graduation, and he received his Master’s of Divinity. That summer of ’73, Conrad’s parents’ church in San Mateo, California, called us to join Conrad’s dad as co-pastor. We marveled at God’s timely provision!

We left for California in a moving truck, towing our blue ’65 Ford pick-up. Michael, breaking in his new Volkswagen, followed us on his way back to BIOLA. We sang and praised God mile after mile for taking us through school and calling us to serve him. When we stopped for gas, Michael told us our little dog, Cupie, had jumped out of the back of our capped and loaded pickup bed fifty miles back. We brought her puppies into the cab and didn’t feel like singing anymore.

A few days after we arrived in San Mateo, Conrad sat up in bed with his head in his hands while irrational fear gripped his heart and mind. We prayed. . . and it passed. In spite of this panic attack, he loved teaching the young married class and preaching Sunday nights. We helped start an AWANA kids’ program and Calvary Christian School, did chalk-talks and sang together.

Our “gift of God,” Jonathan Conrad, arrived December 5, ’73 at 9 lbs. 10 oz.. The hard delivery and 24/7 demands of a new baby came harder than I imagined. Most evenings, Conrad remained at the church. My German heritage said we needed to eat dinner on time and together. This ministry was not what I signed up for. My marriage also was not turning out as I thought. One night after an argument, I took off in the car not knowing where I was going. With geographical dyslexia, my fear of getting lost kept me from going too far for too long, but the rage within me to leave scared me even more. One day I desperately scrawled across two pages of my journal, “I give up!!” God’s Holy Spirit breathed softly, “Yes, My child, give UP to Me.” I wept in brokenness. . . releasing my hopes, dreams, and expectations UP to “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort. . . .” (2 Cor. 1:3). His quiet peace followed.

The next year the church ordained Conrad to the ministry. By then another baby was on the way. Our landlords sold the duplex, but thankfully, we found a three-bedroom house to rent before Jamison Lee arrived June 29, ‘75. What a precious baby boy! He was so good, slept all the time, and none of his brother’s loud noises woke him up. I felt some concern. Mom came from Fresno to help with the baby and one evening encouraged us to go for a drive with Jonathan. The next day every little noise woke Jami up. I said to Mom, “There’s sure nothing wrong with his hearing!”

A year later, Mom told us what happened the night we went for a drive. Jami lay asleep while she slammed the door as hard as she could, banged pans over his cradle, and clapped her hands. He slept through it all. Then she gently touched him and he instantly awoke. She had called my dad, told him Jami was deaf, and they prayed together over the phone. The next day was when everything woke him up. Not wanting to submit this precious miracle to Conrad’s typical skepticism, they waited a whole year before telling us.

Between AWANA club, singing, Christmas programs, puppet shows, chalk talks, choir practices, Easter cantatas, the young married class, the church building project, teaching art at the new School, and caring for two babies. . . I was not doing well.

One evening after Conrad left for AWANA, I tried to get Jonathan to go to sleep, but he refused. Fed, dry, and comfortable, he continued to scream. At nearly two-years-old, I figured he needed discipline. I went into his room with a wooden spoon, tried again to get him to lie down, but he screamed louder. Mindlessly, I raised the spoon and came down with several hard whacks on his bottom, but as I raised the spoon again, it suddenly flew backwards out of my hand (his guardian angel grabbed it). I ran out of the room screaming, “God help me!!!”

I managed to phone Conrad. When he came, he held us until I calmed and Jonathan slept. We talked and cried and prayed. . . and realized we had crossed a line. My recipe for disaster: Mix a polio compromised nervous system with over achievement and add one part old nature. Thinking we can do everything all the time, can cross a line where we cannot handle life anymore. How much better to make wise choices before we get to that point! Conrad, certified to give TJTA Tests, gave it to me shortly after that incident. My test results— “suicidal.” Although not aware of that idea, it did reveal my neurological limit.

I remember lying in bed at night visualizing and weeping over my sin. God met me and reminded me that He had taken my punishment, and by His wounds I was healed (Isa. 53:5). He breathed these words into my heart and mind, “. . . though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool (Isa. 1:18).

Oh what a Savior!!! Jesus came to rescue us from ourselves. He rescued me, forgave me, and cleansed me. . . white as snow. I did not know it then, but another life-changing provision was on the way. . . .