TableTalk

I lived at the Mission Home while I attended classes in St. Paul at Luther-Northwestern Seminary in preparation for my work among the church leaders in Ecuador. I ate my meals at the Mission Home when Margaret was the housekeeper. She put me in the room on the first floor next to the entrance. At times, I felt as though I was the “bouncer” should there be any trouble with any unsavory fellow that might wander in from the street. That never happened but I always felt as though I was there, ready to do the task if need be.

I recall with fondness the times when I would help Margaret wash the dishes after supper. There was always some topic to be discussed and Margaret would tell me stories about her father in China, about Paul and the trip that they had made overland to Nepal, about the life and work of Paul’s father and his death to disease in the 1920’s, about the lives of missionaries that had gone before. But most of all I recall the words about her own life and the married life that she had in the mission. Margaret is a woman of stern stuff, the kind of dedication that reflects a profound trust in the Lord.

Near the end of my year at Luther, an official from the synod offices back home came. He had come to visit me and inquire as to how my studies were going and what the outlook was for my future. He asked me who it was that had the greatest impact on my education while I was in seminary. Without hesitation I told him that it was the woman who was in charge of the Mission Home where I’d lived. The example of Margaret Lindell was the best thing that had happened to me in Minneapolis.

Several years later I got into a discussion with a man about the pros and cons of seminary education. The question was posed to me, “If you were to have a seminary, what kind of curricula would you have?”

“The first thing I would do would be to have Margaret Lindell on the faculty.”

“Aha! You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t take her out of the Mission Home and put her into a classroom. That would negate her skills.”

To which I replied, “Who said anything about putting her into a classroom? Put the students in the kitchen and let them wash dishes with her everyday and then they would open their eyes to the world in different ways.”

The Prayer League has had a wonderful perspective of what it means to understand the service of Jesus and putting it to work in effective and functional ways. I shall always be grateful for the way that I was trained by one of the best teachers I’ve known and in one of the most attractive settings I’ve had the privilege to live in, the house at 228 Clifton Avenue.

I was thrilled when I arrived at the Mission Home because I have always loved “old” things. It was the greatest house I’d ever seen. I loved the way the rooms were so cozy with old furniture, just like in my grandparent’s home. I also loved the dining room where everyone came together to eat their meals and share the days events. I thought, “This must have been what it was like in times past, families sitting together and sharing.” I was delighted beyond belief.

Darwin and I and our daughter, Jeanette, were given the third floor apartment, the one facing Clifton Avenue. We were tired after the long car trip from Washington and a bit overwhelmed by the fact that in the morning a group of men and women would decide our future at the directorate meeting. I remember sitting in a rocking chair in the bedroom thinking of all the missionaries that had sat in that very chair before me and a sense of awe came over me that I will never forget.

The next morning we woke up at 6:14am. We were due next door in the Map Room at 6:30am. How could we have overslept? No time to think, just throw on clothes and go! Maybe it was better that way.

I don’t remember anything that happened during the interview, only that we were accepted. We were on our way. How excited we were! We were officially part of the WMPL family. However, we had two years of studies before leaving for Mexico.

One of those years we spent in an apartment in the Coach House. We home schooled Jeanette who was in 11th grade. She found her first job on Nicolet Avenue at Bruegger’s Bagels. The Paul Hagen’s were in the Mission Home for a year as well so Jeanette became friends with their children. Darwin and I attended the seminary and Bible School in Plymouth with the Association of Free Lutherans and we assisted St. Paul’s Lutheran at 1901 Portland Avenue. What a year it was for all of us! Friends, work, a great church family, living at the mission and helping in the office, briefing course, and Hunky Dory.

During this time we were privileged to get to know so many members of the WMPL family. We were given lots of good counsel. One that sticks in my mind came from a chat we had in the livingroom of the Mission Home with Joyce Ruohomiemi who was hostess at that time. She told us that when you get to the mission field all the crud floats to the top. If you have any problems that aren’t worked out before you go, be assured that they will surface after your arrival on foreign ground. We prayed that the Lord would bring the crud to the surface before we left and He answered that prayer. It was a hard time for us but we had the WMPL family and many helped us through it. We give thanks to God for being a part of his family and for being a part of the WMPL family.

One wintry day in December 1972, I walked up to the Mission Office. My pastor, Carl Johannson had advised me to talk with Paul Lindell after I told him of my missionary call. Judy Peterson welcomed me in for Morning Prayers where I met Paul Lindell and the rest of the staff before talking with Paul. It was a holy moment as I heard these people pray for missionaries and the people they served all over the world. It was also a fun bunch of women with names like Dixie, Bunny, Inky, and Violet. I felt called to Ecuador but Arun Manaen would ply me with cookies before morning prayers as she looked up into my face and said with a serious expression, “They need nurses in Afghanistan.”

After I was accepted as a missionary, I lived in the Blue Room on the second floor. The first night, I wondered if I had done the right thing and worried about being alone in a foreign country. Then the Lord assured me as he tenderly held me in his arms that if He could be with me in the States, he could certainly be with me in Ecuador. These reassurances continued as I got to know Judy Peterson and Char Sunde who lived on the third floor; our midnight chats on the floor of their cozy kitchen in front of the fake fireplace are warm memories for me.

I loved the stairway in the Mission Home and thought it would be a great place to play as a child or to come down as a bride. I also loved the big old bathtub with claw feet in the main bathroom on the second floor. And I remember summer evenings sitting in the “new” rocking chair in the living room feeling the breeze flutter through the sheer curtains.

They didn’t have briefing courses when I was getting ready to go overseas but briefing was accomplished nonetheless as I chatted with Inky Thompson in the kitchen as she ate her cereal at 10pm every night, or as I helped Dixie or Theodore with some project in the office or attended daily prayers in the Map Room with the staff and furloughing missionaries.

I knew I was doing the right thing when the mission celebrated my going to Ecuador at a party in the Mission Home. My Mom and Dad got to see first hand what a supportive group of people I was attached to. When I left Hunky Dory that summer, I said good-by to Paul Lindell he wasn’t feeling well and I hated to bother him but I knew that I probably would not see him again on this earth. And I didn’t.

After my five years in Ecuador, I returned to the Mission Home and Office to live and work until the Lord led me to the next step. Margaret said I could have the large room above the dining room since Lillian Bangs had just retired. First, she wanted to paint and refinish the floor. She rented a machine to sand the floors, then applied several coats of polyurethane. It was beautiful! She did this in between running up and down the stairs doing laundry, sorting donated food from farmer’s harvests and running to the grocery store for staples in her little orange VW bug.

I worked in the Mail Room with Mona Wendler and saw first hand how the Lord provided for the Mission. Part of my job was to write a personal note of thanks to the donors. The days the volunteers came to assemble and send off the newsletter or Fellow Worker magazine were loads of fun. Watching Mona troubleshoot the cantankerous labeling machine was a hoot, too.

What a privilege to live in the Mission Home where I could see everyone relax and feel so at home as Margaret welcomed them at the front door! “Five more for supper? No problem.”