In June of ’87, the phone rang and after Conrad answered it, he just kept saying, “No. No. No!” The call came from his brother-in-law to tell us Conrad’s dad passed away of a heart aneurism in Austria, where he served as a PTL missionary. Mother would come home and we would hold his memorial service in Fresno, California.

Somehow it never seemed like Daddy really died—he just never came home from Europe. I believe God purposed to illustrate His love for the world with earthly father/son relationships. Therefore, the relationship between fathers and sons powerfully impacts sons and their sons for generations. Some sons suffer what should not have been, but was; Others suffer what should have been, but was not. As every son, Conrad wanted to meet his dad’s expectations, so much so, that in his compliant nature, he negated his own unique and God-given identity.

Both Conrad and his dad loved the Lord and preached His Word, but the personalities of these two polar opposite men created a relational vacuum. Basically, one thrived on studying truth as a student of theology, the other thrived on the joy of relationships and presenting truth. When Conrad lost his Daddy, he also lost this pseudo identity. This loss was immense, but we did not realize how much at the time. That same year, as a father himself, Conrad did experience the joy of baptizing his oldest son, Jonathan, and leading his youngest son, Joel, to Jesus.

Our church looked forward to soon celebrate its 100th Anniversary, yet it seemed a lack of vision persisted. Hope filled Conrad’s heart when he hired the Pastor of Adult Ministries. Having a relationship with someone to share the ministry exhilarated him, and God strengthened us by that joy. However, an undercurrent against the new pastoral addition grew. Our hearts broke and we prayed and fasted. Some people threatened to leave the church. I couldn’t bear that though and felt it may be better if we left instead. We consulted with the CBA director who advised us to resign quickly. Though we respected and took his advice, hindsight revealed that was not such a wise idea.

The director had suggested another available CBA church on the coast, but we declined, hoping for another kind of ministry other than a pastorate—perhaps even some wonderful multimedia ministry. . . but it didn’t happen. We moved into a 900 sq. ft., dilapidated bungalow on Haley Road with our four children to remain in the same school district. Conrad stood in the unemployment line with a very colorful group of other people.

At first he tried to sell health insurance, but ended up working at a warehouse for $5.50 an hour. Sometimes he awoke at night, either from hearing rats in the walls of that old house, or with panic attacks. I felt angry to have to take food stamps; I wanted God to take care of us, not the government! Had God forsaken us? We felt an acute identity crisis and our faith sorely tested.

One night Conrad came home from work and said, “Now I know why people jump off bridges. I just feel so lost!” We wept, we prayed, and wept some more. As the months passed we sought a Christian counselor. He told Conrad his foundations were being shaken—the foundations and ideologies of the fundamentalist churches in which both of us were born and raised.

For three years our foundations shook. We started “Peters’ Painting” and painted apartments and a warehouse. Conrad sold Rainbow vacuums. My teaching credentials had expired so I cleaned houses. Three Christmas seasons came and went. Two of them brought charitable loads of food and gifts. We were grateful… and humbled. Our kids developed a work ethic by acquiring jobs to pay for their clothes. Jonathan worked on a neighbor’s horse ranch cleaning stalls. Jami worked for a cocker spaniel breeder cleaning pens. Charissa babysat and cleaned houses. Joel kept me smiling. Part of two summers, my parents took Jonathan to Canada to ease our expenses—something I always deeply regretted! He already was growing up way too fast!

Conrad did rejoice to baptize Charissa at Gateway Baptist church in ’90. He also baptized Jami, now fifteen years old, at a Riverside Church retreat. That year my Dad bought us an ’86 white Buick. We counted our blessings in spite of dark days!

Every day I went to the mailbox hoping against hope for a miracle, and every day my heart sank. We were running out of wood, even green wood, for the old coal burning stove that squatted in the living room. Mold grew in the corners of the rooms and crawled up the legs of our furniture. Could this possibly be the “belly of a fish”? One dark October night Conrad and I took a drive. We ended up in the Boring Post Office parking lot to pray and weep before the LORD.

Years before, the Lord had given me Romans 1:1,5 as a life verse —a seemingly strange passage. What I saw was, Conrad and MarJean, servants of Christ Jesus, called and set apart for the gospel of God. . . Through Him and for His name’s sake receive grace and mercy to call all people to the obedience that comes from faith. That was our assignment. We felt broken and helpless, but we told the Lord that night we were willing to go back into ministry. How quickly He answered our prayer! But not without a battle. . . .

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to HIS purpose. For those God foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brothers.”
Romans 8:28-29