When we weren’t on the road, Dad sometimes rented a conference hall at the local hotel in Bradley. Dad would bring in his recording equipment, his briefcase, a large leather bag with straps, the silver bendy stand microphone, and his visual aids: large posters depicting the End Times, and everything Christ paid for on the cross. 

At the far end, in front of a mirrored partition, Dad created the platform area: a chalkboard easel defined one side, while Dad’s notes and Bible on a skinny hotel pulpit pulpit marked the center. Mom, Dan and I helped. There was much to do, from plugging in extension cords, to arranging the chairs in golden naugahide rows facing the platform. We shouted “Testing, testing! One, two, three,” into the microphone. Dad plugged in the reel-to-reel tape recorder, and clicked the tapes in place. We drank ice water from clear plastic cups stacked on a fancy table against the back wall.

We got all dressed up and prayed for people to come in response to Dad’s advertising. Dad wore a dark suit jacket, plaid dress pants, a western buckle at his waist, a western tie under the collar of his dress shirt (it was really not a tie- just braided leather cords fastened with a semiprecious stone clasp), and shiny dress shoes. Mom and I wore long dresses: prairie-style for me, and an African dress with a spangled cap for Mom. Dan was copy of Dad, except for the shoes. When Mike was a baby, he was dressed up in a t-shirt and pants with shoulder straps.

As people trickled in, the scent of cologne would hang in the air. Mom often played some familiar choruses on a shiny black piano with wheels in the corner. Sometimes Uncle Joe, Aunt Kathy, and Aunt Rebecca joined their voices , tambourine, and accordion in leading worship. I may have been entrusted with the tambourine a time or two. 

As we sang, the chandeliers sparkled in the mirrored partition.

Dad preached about the various Arks in the Bible, and related them to the promise of God’s protection for the present day. 

I doodled on scrap paper. Dan sketched in the inside of the tape case, and looked after the tape recording machine. I thought we were being very good, when we were allowed to sit on the front row with the grownups. Sometimes Mom had me sit in the back with her while she tended the baby in a crib or on a blanket. At times she would get up to deliver a powerful word.

After Dad preached, he offered to pray the prayer of faith for anyone who had a need.

One unforgettable time, a man in the back by the open door wanted to be made well. He couldn’t come to the front because of his wheelchair. Dad went over to the man. He laid his hands on him and prayed loudly, with authority. Along with everyone else, I watched in excitement as a change came over the man. His hands shot up, his feet came down. And before we knew it, the man jumped out of his wheelchair! He ran right out the door, and around the pool, yelling the whole time! 

Dad was tearing up and laughing at the same time. We were all shouting and praising the Lord that day. 

Dad’s Enthusiasm and Generosity 

  Enthusiasm was Dad’s middle name. Throughout Dad’s life, there was always something he felt strongly about and something fascinating that he enjoyed doing. He loved to share his interests.

Mom and Dad opened our home to everyone. Over the years, our home has been the space for Sunday services, cookouts, Bible studies, prayer groups, a wedding, deliverance sessions. 

We would often host ministry friends from other states and other countries, relatives from France, and people in need. They would comment on two things: the peace in our home, and how crazy Dad was about his children.

He played peekaboo with the littles, gave horsey rides, and often carried a child on his shoulders during our Sunday walks. He and Mom took us to crazy events like Cornerstone Music Fest.

Dad included us in his activities and interests, from publishing, repairing and building, to travel and evangelism.

In 1979, Mom and Dad asked me to make a cartoon for their Pillar magazine, and I took that very seriously. That year, Dad taught us how to operate two kinds of printing presses right out of our living room! We were so excited to publish unique Christian material. We passed out so many hand press bookmarks, and scripture cards to our neighbors, and included them in our snail mail for years to come!

That first year before Dad could fulfill his dream of designing and building his own house, he was studying engineering so he could design blueprints to code, collecting salvageable materials from his demolition job with C.M. Ford to build “The Addition.”  Once the blueprints were approved, he started digging. I remember him patiently gathering funds each year to renew the permit to begin construction, and letting us kids and our friends begin digging the foundation. Renting the front-loader was a huge help.

He let us take whatever scrap two-bis, nails, and plywood we wanted to cobble together treehouse after tree house. We gained so much confidence, and later, he encouraged us to add on, making it safe for the younger children.

Dad would often be hard at work when we came home from school, surrounded by reel-to-reels, and cassettes, transferring and editing audio to fulfill the orders which came pouring in from all across the world. We begged to hear our voices echo in the stand microphone, and we were fairly sure he would say yes, because we knew Dad enjoyed us amusing ourselves with sound effects. We learned how to splice tape, and to appreciate A.A. Allen, Brother Branham and Brother Hall’s preaching as well.

As children got old enough, we were included in Mom and Dad’s practice of fasting on Saturdays, giving that day over to seeking God, and relaxing. At times, kids were included in whatever Dad was doing, whether that was staying in Chicago while he worked for the Indians, or taking apart copiers, disassembling and rebuilding new computers, or mopping the kitchen with “the Machine” (an electrical industrial floor cleaner with two rotating scrubbers), or roto-tilling gardens, mowing, pulling nails for lumber, laying tile, pouring concrete, hanging plasterboard, laying bricks, painting, shopping, chopping wood, sorting, or salvaging.

Sundays were given over to church, eating afterwards. We had seasons of being the Pastor’s kids or the evangelist’s kids, seasons of going to mega churches, visiting churches of various denominations and having a home church.

Our neighborhood friends will remember Dad’s Sunday popcorn tradition. He filled a huge container with enough of his signature curried popcorn to feed an army!  Many Sundays you could find us at the State Park, having a picnic or taking a walk, exploring in nature. We invited friends and family, because for us, “the more the merrier.” Dad taught us to throw, to catch, and how to make a frisbee fly.

He and Mom were energetic and athletic and took us everywhere they went. They took us on bike rides, went sledding with us, took us hiking in the mountains, swimming at the lake, or exploring as a family in the big city; we tramped for hours through museums, fished on the pier, and walked miles to hotels and arenas for conferences and meetings in our best clothes. I am grateful that they took me to hear Morris Cerullo and others.

We spent time with Dad in the darkroom. He was excited to teach us, and his enthusiasm knew no bounds. We learned, without realizing it, what red light, silver, and proofs were used for. It was thrilling to watch exposed paper develop.

Dad also taught us how the timer on a manual camera worked, and we sometimes got to press the button when we took a family photo that included everyone.

When Dad got a telescope, we got to see the craters on the moon from our yard.

Dad encouraged and supported our desires to learn, to travel, to go missions.

Dad found ways to make sure we had vacations, even if it meant collecting tin cans, or working odd jobs while we camped.

He was supportive and proud of his children’s achievements. He drove me wherever I needed to be, whether it was a softball game at Open Bible, or to the store for emergency items.

Dad and Mom celebrated us, and inspired us to celebrate all the special days.

Every single birthday there was cake and ice cream or its healthier equivalent.

Our parents were the ones who made sure I had a party for my homeschool high school graduation, a ride, and snacks and treats for my art show at ONU, drove on fumes to bring the family for my graduation from GSU.

Dad was the inspiration for much of my artwork. He let me take anything from his scrap pile that I needed for my projects.

If a grown child needed assistance,  Dad was willing to help in any way he could. He would drive, send a little money, or fix whatever was fixable.

He was always ready to brag on his wife, children and grandchildren and often told us he loved us.