Cool Ranch
At times I find myself dwelling on my earlier years. Not that my childhood was amazing or even remarkable in many ways. I grew up the firstborn of two young missionaries. They were newly married and just setting out on their own away from family and friends. They had left the comforts of home to seek God’s will for them in ministry to children through backyard bible clubs and other various gospel sharing venues in the great land of Grand Rapids, Michigan. They were in love and living life to its full purpose. At times I feel like I interrupted their lives when I came on the scene almost immediately. Some people call us surprises or accidents, but the quickness of my birth is only a testament to my parents love for each other and to their calling of influencing the next generation. The winter of ’81 was a harsh one and my parents, poor in every material sense, made it through that blizzard clinging to one another for warmth and comfort. And that is how babies should be made. Moving forw