LIFE-CHANGING CHOICES

LIFE CHANGING CHOICES!
It seemed good, in the spring of 1951, to be returning to Billings and the northwest. This is not to say that we hadn't enjoyed our stay in Nebraska. While living there it had been much easier to get to Jane's home for visits, and the work had been interesting. But I am a devoted Montanan, and wanted to live in my home state again.
The government picked up the tab for our move, which was again officially "for the convenience of the government." The Bureau of Reclamation crew at Indianola did most of our packing and loading. All we had to do was take our personal things needed for the trip. Off we went.
We had been forewarned that there would be no Bureau housing available for us. So we went to a motel, a very small and simple one, just a few blocks from the Region 6 office where I would be working. We lived in that motel two or three weeks, and then learned of a family that was looking for reliable house-sitters. We went to see them, and arranged to live in their very nice house for a couple months. We were to take care of the lawn and yard, keep the house clean, and, of course, pay for our own utilities.
While we were living in that fine home, David was learning to ride a bicycle. A little neighbor boy of about his age was willing to let David learn on his bike. David was not quite five years old, but fearless. He had a lot of help from me, trotting along behind him, holding onto the seat to keep him from tumbling. As soon as he had learned to balance fairly well, he took off on his own. He took many falls, but kept on trying.
Meanwhile, we were house-hunting. The new position I had paid well, and we were sure we could afford to buy a house. We found one, partially completed, and signed the contract for it. It was a bit small, only 970 square feet, or something like that, but we thought it would do us for the moment. The cost: $12,500! That was for the lot, and a brand-new house with attached single garage. Of course, we had to put in the lawn and trees, and fence the back yard. The land had formerly been part of an alfalfa field, and the soil was rich. Oh--something quite new to us--the gas furnace was in the attic; there was no basement. We bought the house under the provisions of the GI bill, so the monthly payments were low, less than $100 per month.
We moved into the new house in June, and I put in a garden, and lawn. The house was about two miles from the office, so I had to drive back and forth. Other Bureau people lived near us, so I sometimes shared rides with them. Most of our neighbors were very civil and friendly people.
In those days power lawn mowers were almost unheard of, so I bought a new push type reel mower. We had a dandy lawn all the time we lived there. I put in a strawberry bed, too, which did well, and planted some rhubarb out near the alley. A little honeysuckle shoot set out by our bed-room window grew quickly into a fine bush. When in bloom, the fragrance was great. We lived in that house, at 1611 West Yellowstone, until 1955, just a little over four years. Of course, while we were getting settled down, I was busy at my new job. At first I worked as assistant to the Regional Classification Officer, Betty McDonald, the lady who had asked for my transfer. She was a good instructor, and I learned a lot from her. I worked both on the classification of positions (deciding what title, grade, and pay rate was appropriate, based on the duties) and on the preparation of wage scales for our "bluecollar" construction and maintenance workers in Montana, Wyoming, and the Dakotas..
That part of the job was the most interesting, as I made many road trips, collecting wage data from contractors and large operating and maintenance organizations. We developed a wage scale accepted by all the federal agencies, and also some state and county agencies in our four-state region. That wage scale had to be reviewed at least annually, and was always a touchy matter.
The work took me out to the construction sites and maintenance operations of the region--clear over into the Dakotas, and down into Wyoming. The Bureau had many operating projects in all four states, and was also building a small dam near Devil's Tower, Wyoming--a very remote site. Much of my travel was with Bill Snyder, the Bureau pilot, in either the single-engined, or twin-engined planes he flew.
Only a few months after I came into the job, Betty left as she had planned to do, and I was promoted to her position, that of Regional Position Classifier, at GS-11. This was a middle management rank in the Federal civil service at that time. Journeyman level for engineers, economists, geologists, and other professional fields was GS-9. I was very fortunate!
With the new job, I made several visits to the district offices and to the field jobs, and quickly became acquainted with many fine men, specialists in all sorts of work. I got along as well as one could expect with such a wide variety of people. My boss, Howard Watts, was good to work for, and we men in the personnel office had many good fishing and hunting trips together. Also, now being close to my sister Jean's home, we frequently went there to visit, at Christmas and other times. We also saw my parents more frequently, though that was a considerable drive from Billings to Glasgow--about 350 miles.
As I have already mentioned in an earlier chapter, during the years while we lived in Nebraska, and now in Billings, my sister Jean wrote frequent and long letters, urging us to become Christians. We thought we were--weren’t we active in the Methodist church? I was very self-righteous, and thought I didn't need anything at all.
As I described previously, on the Friday after Labor Day, 1952, I made the life-changing decision to trust in Jesus Christ as my personal savior. We continued to attend the Methodist Church for a time, thinking that we could change things there, and bring people around to trusting in Jesus. However, after the pastor publicly belittled the blood of Jesus one Sunday, we began to attend the Church of the Air, an independent church with a daily radio broadcast. We learned a great deal about the Bible and Christianity there and in the home Bible study group. Our leaving the Methodist Church disappointed my mother. I think she never really understood our action. That winter I directed the choir in a little independent church in Laurel, 16 miles west of Billings. I also helped with daily services at the Salvation Army mission for transients in Billings. I sometimes went to the mission alone, though I was very green at the business of preaching. I often sang an old hymn or two, before speaking, trying to get the men to respond to the Gospel.
Those first attempts at leading a service were doubly difficult because of the horrible atmosphere provided for the services. The Salvation Army made no attempt to conduct evangelistic services. The many transients were housed in a damp, dark basement, equipped with double bunk beds. The latrine had a wide, open door, and the lighting was very weak. I stood in the doorway of the latrine to sing and speak, with men coming and going past me, often walking right in front of me. The men who cared to listen sat on a bench about ten feet away, facing me.
Because I felt that music was important--and partly because I was very much interested in sound recording at that time--we invested in one of the earliest tape recorders placed on the market. It was a Pentron, using the large reels of tape. I had Jeannette Sedlak, a fine pianist and member of our Friday Bible study group, help me record the piano accompaniment for several hymns and some solos, and used that machine to provide the background music. That helped a little bit, though not much. More of the men showed some interest in listening to the service. I did see a few decisions made, some of them very firm, with men's lives changed completely.
When the Salvation Army saw what success we were having down in the basement, they made a little chapel available to us, and even provided a piano. At the Church of the Air Jane and I enjoyed the fine Bible teaching and preaching.
Biggest event of early fall of 1953 was the birth of our daughter, Martha, on September 23rd. Everything went well with her birth. Jane's mother came up and helped again. Again we had a fine little one in our household.
In the fall of 1953 I was invited to join the radio choir, at the church, helping with the music for daily half-hour radio broadcasts over a local station. That was good, and I was intensely interested in the work. We rehearsed and recorded the broadcasts on two afternoons a week. I had to leave work early, and the recording took until six or later in the evening. Also we often formed groups from the church to go to nursing homes, and to the local jail to sing and speak. Both Jane and I passed out many tracts in those days.
Early in the fall of 1953, Jean's husband, Wayne, decided he would like to go deer hunting with me. He came down to the area near Harlowton, Montana, and met me on a ranch there. We had a good camping and hunting expedition, though Wayne didn't get a deer. Just a couple weeks later, Jean called one morning, saying that Wayne had fallen from a ladder while painting their barn, and was in a coma at the hospital in Havre. Two days later she called again--Wayne had died!
We went up to their town of Big Sandy for the funeral, leaving the older children in Billings with a friend. On the way we wondered what in the world we could say to Jean. She was now left alone with a big wheat farm and five children, one a baby just a few weeks older than our Martha. We hadn't decided when we arrived. Then on our way into the house we saw on the blackboard in their back porch the words Jean had written: "Rejoice in the Lord, always, and again I say, rejoice." Jean demonstrated the life of a true Christian during those very difficult days.
The big funeral was held in the high school auditorium in Big Sandy, because of the large crowd that was expected. It was a very sad time for all of us. Because of my mother's serious condition, she was not told of Wayne's death. We knew that it could only hurt her.
I haven't mentioned before that Jane's father passed away in 1947 or 48. Now it was my turn to lose a parent. My mother had been suffering from cancer for two or three years. She had a series of operations, the last one done in Great Falls. The last time I saw her was there, in midsummer, in the hospital. She went back home, dreadfully ill. Aunt Eckie, one of her sisters who lived in Wisconsin, came out and helped take care of her in her last days. Mom asked that we children not come to visit her, because of the condition she was in, so none of us went. How often since I've wished that we had gone, despite her request!
About three weeks after Wayne left us, Dad called one morning to tell us it was all over--Mother was gone. Again we set off, going by way of Jean's to take her and her baby, Faith, with us to Glasgow to the funeral. Robert came, too. Our sister Mary, ill with multiple sclerosis, and living at Jean's, was unable to make the trip. The big funeral was held in the old Methodist Church, where Mom and Dad had been so active for many years. It was a cold, miserable day, as I recall, and the time at the graveside was especially difficult. I was shivering so hard I could scarcely stand.
Afterward we went back to the church for a dinner provided by the women of the church. Several of our former school teachers and old neighbors from the homestead years were there, and that helped a lot. Dad was greatly distressed, naturally. A short time later he sold their little house, and went to live at Jean's. There he was a big help to her, raising chickens, and taking care of the livestock. We went back home to Billings, and then came back to spend Christmas with Jean and the children. We went again in 1954. We still have some photos I took that Christmas of 1953, and a fine stockman's pocket knife that Jean's boys gave me as a gift.
Another special event took place in late 1953. The Regional Administrative Officer asked me to move out of Personnel, and become a part of the Regional Director's staff. My new job title was "Organization and Methods Examiner," still at GS-11. Earlier I had passed up an offer to move to Washington, D.C., as a GS-12 in personnel work, simply because I didn't want to leave Montana. My new work was more difficult in some ways. I attended all regional staff meetings, and wrote up the minutes of those meetings, and the instructions given by the Regional Director to his district administrators and staff people. I shared an office with the Regional Information Officer, and we became good friends. Also, I now was assigned a secretary. I worked very closely with the Regional Administrative Officer and the Assistant Regional Director. One of my jobs was to go to the district offices and construction projects to advise on staffing patterns and organizations. One study I made was in the District Office in Bismarck, North Dakota, overhauling their whole central filing system. It was good experience!
Not all my recommendations were popular, of course, and in some ways I missed the work in personnel. Howard Watts, my former supervisor, moved to Washington, D.C., to the Postal Department, in 1954. I still fished and hunted with the men in personnel. Those were good years! I won't try to tell of my hobby of shooting and other activities! I know now that I spent an unreasonable time in those matters, not helping with the family as I should have done. In the spring of 1955, while much involved in work at the church, at the Salvation Army mission, and taking courses at the new Billings Bible Institute, a new thing entered my life. I was enjoying helping with the preaching at the mission, and on one occasion, had preached at a small Free Methodist Church in Billings.
On Easter morning, while helping with the dishes, I had tuned in the local Christian radio station. It was then I heard, for the very first time, a reference to Fuller Theological Seminary, founded by Dr. Charles Fuller of the Old Fashioned Revival Hour. We often listened to that radio broadcast. Later that morning, at our church worship service, a retired missionary, Mr. Huber, said to me suddenly: "John, I think you should go to seminary." We didn't discuss it, but that was the second time that day I had heard the word "seminary."
We had a guest for dinner some weeks later, Dick Gustafson, the American Sunday School Union Missionary for central Montana, a good friend of my sister, Jean. Dick suddenly said: "John, I think you should go to Fuller Seminary." After he had gone, we talked about it, and I did a lot of praying. After a few days I came to the conclusion that God wanted me to go to school, to prepare for missionary service.
Accordingly, I wrote to Fuller Seminary, received their literature, and began to make plans to leave my job and go to Pasadena in the fall. When I applied to the school, a condition was laid down for my acceptance. I must study widely in the field of philosophy, as I had very little background in that area in my college studies. All summer I read heavy books about the different schools of philosophy, and philosophical theory. I don't think it helped very much, but I boned up on it, anyway.
In August I announced at the office my decision to resign and go back to school. Many with whom I worked thought I had really flipped! It was beyond their experience that anyone would give up a good job like mine, to become a missionary. It gave me a great opportunity to talk about my faith in Christ with my supervisor, Bill, who was a faithful Catholic.
The time passed quickly. We advertised our home for sale, and at the last minute sold it, though at a considerable loss. We paid off the mortgage, leaving us only a small remainder, much less than we had counted on having. I also withdrew all my retirement savings, a good sum. As difficult as anything for me was selling my precious Mauser rifle that had given me so much pleasure. We sold many precious things. Then we rented a U-Haul trailer actually larger than our little old Chevy car, and loaded up for our big move.
This was a tremendous change for us. It was not a mere mid-life crisis, but a completely new start, seeking to be obedient to God. I knew that the way would not be easy, and that I would have to work while going to school, but didn't mind that. I had worked hard while going to school in the past, though then I didn't have a family to support. In early September of 1955 we were on our way to Pasadena California, so I could attend Fuller Theological Seminary. Three difficult and wonderful years lay ahead of us! We fully trusted that God would see us through.