The Mandate

When our daughter Sonja was attending Pepperdine University, she came to visit us in Santa Barbara. She had met a young man from Malibu and was eager for us to meet her new boyfriend. Our beautiful daughter walked in with this stranger — tattooed from head to toe, with piercings in his nose, eyebrows, tongue, and ears. He wore a heavy chain attached to his wallet, and bell bottoms wide enough to qualify as a small tent. The experience left visible scars.

From that day forward, a sense of maternal urgency set in — a self-declared mandate to find Sonja a husband. This mission, however noble in motive, would get me into a great deal of trouble.

The Interview

Years later, Mike and I found ourselves at the St. Regis, a swanky Dana Point resort, attending a wedding. Rather than simply enjoying the celebration, the mission resumed. Purposely sitting next to a young, tall, handsome man in his thirties who seemed like a promising prospect, the plan was set. Sonja was called and invited to the reception.

The sound of her voice threw everything off. “You want me to crash a wedding to meet a stranger?!” Dead silence followed. She was livid.

That didn’t slow things down one bit — if anything, it was motivation to try harder.

God’s Help

The mission was far from over. On a missionary trip to the Czech Republic, a priest was tracked down specifically to receive one prayer request: find the right husband for Sonja. This was not an isolated incident. Wherever travel took the family — another city, another country — that prayer request went with it.

The operation had also expanded. Mike was recruited into the effort, and arrangements were made for a blind date with one of his younger golfing buddies. It was, by every honest measure, the biggest disaster ever.

And still — not a single lesson was learned. The meddling continued, diligent and undeterred.

There is no gentle way to open this chapter. What happened at the second wedding was, by any honest accounting, a step too far — but it did not stop me from interfering.

The scheme unfolded like this: a young man’s phone number was retrieved from Sonja’s cell phone bill. I placed the call and the opening line involved a dog with a hip problem — a creative fiction designed to reach a physical therapist with plausible cover. Once the conversation was established, it pivoted smoothly to the real agenda: how were things progressing between this young man and Sonja?

The young man, understandably, never called Sonja again.

Sonja found out. She was furious. And somehow, in the moment, the fury was genuinely puzzling. The intention, after all, was only to help.

The Message From God

The meddling continued — until it didn’t.

While traveling in the Holy Land, God stepped in. Not with a lecture. Not with a rebuke delivered through another person. With a dream — quiet, precise, and devastating in its clarity.

In the dream, Sonja was being fitted for her wedding dress. She stood on a riser in a bridal shop, radiant and happy. From the background, unseen, I watched — glad to witness the joy without being the cause of it. The dress was extraordinary. The bottom especially: intricate beading, beautiful detailing, the kind of craftsmanship that takes time and cannot be rushed.

When Sonja and the seamstress stepped out, I entered the room. Needle and thread in hand. And began to hem the dress.

Footsteps returned. A quick retreat into hiding.

Then Sonja’s voice — not angry, but broken: “Who would do this terrible thing? The most beautiful part of my dress is missing.”

The dreamer woke up in tears. And prayed for forgiveness.

Minding My Own Business

The dream did not fade with morning. It landed — and it changed everything.

Looking back honestly at the years of scheming — the priest in the Czech Republic, the St. Regis scouting mission, the golfing buddy disaster, the phone call with the fictional hip problem — one word surfaced to describe it all: witchcraft. Not in the dramatic sense, but in the truest sense. Not spells or incantations, but something just as spiritually disordered: attempting to bend reality to a desired outcome through means that bypassed genuine trust in God. The prayers had not been prayers of surrender. They had been prayers of instruction. God was not being invited to work in Sonja’s life. He was being lobbied — given specific assignments, pressed for particular results, recruited into a plan that had already been decided.

God, mercifully, set the record straight.

The young man from Malibu turned out to be a sweet gentleman, but remember this was almost 25 years ago when piercings and tattoos were still frowned upon. I promise I will have nothing negative to say about people who choose to express themselves with tattoos but back then it was taboo.

Russ to the Rescue

The mission came to an end — not because the strategy finally worked, but because God did what He had always planned to do, entirely without assistance.

It happened at the annual Tamale Party. Sonja walked in with Russ.

The first impression was not promising. The judgmental eye that had already survived tattoos, piercings, bell bottoms, and a golfing buddy catastrophe now landed on Russ — and found his hair too long. Some habits, it seems, die slowly.

After a few dates, Sonja invited Russ over for breakfast. Seated across from him, the question came out — sarcastic, pointed, and barely disguised as small talk: “So, do you even go to church?”

Russ looked up. “I’m Catholic.”

The interior reaction was immediate and total. Harps. Trumpets. A choir of angels. I knew, in an instant, that this was the man God had chosen for her daughter. And I had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Russ fit the family perfectly. He is loved dearly — and rightly so.

My Prayer

Prayer for unmarried children: Heavenly Father, I know You have a perfect plan for our sons’ and daughters’ future. I am asking that You bring the right person into their lives who is going to care and love them for who they are. Lord, You are in control of their lives.  All I’m asking is that they find the right helpmate and that this marriage be sanctified by You. Amen!

Mothers of the world, this is not your burden to carry.

The choosing belongs to God — and it always has. Long before a mother ever laid eyes on a tattooed young man from Malibu, or scanned a resort wedding reception for viable candidates, or dialed a physical therapist under the cover of a dog with a hip problem, God already knew. He already had a plan. He already had a person.

I am a Baby Boomer.

Boomer’s Rule

Do you know that Baby Boomers represent the largest population in the United States? We were born directly after World War II; our birth was a celebration, not a planned pregnancy. Our parents did not use birth control.  Being born to a family of seven like mine was common. My mother had nine siblings, and each of them had more than four children. We populated the world.

eLearn Industry

According to eLearn Industry, these are the characteristics of Baby Boomers:

• Strong work ethic;
• Self-assured, we are independent;
• We like competition
• We are goal oriented;
• Resourceful;
• Mentally focused;
• Team oriented; and
• Disciplined.

Lynda

For as long as I can remember, work was part of my life. We lived in Brawley, a farming town that grew all types of vegetables and fruits. My first job was picking tomatoes. So at the ripe age of 12 I understood that working brought many benefits. The wages were paid in cash, ranging from $12-$15 per day. I will never forget the great reward of purchasing a pair of white shorts and a turquoise top; nothing was more satisfying. We gave most of our earnings to our mother to help out with our daily needs.

In addition at the age of 15 I worked for a family-owned fast food company. The owner trusted me to run her business because I was honest. Sometimes we would run short of meat for the burritos, so I would add more juice or beans. Learning to become resourceful was part of my little job.

In college I continued to work at the fast food establishment but also had a job working in the Spanish language lab. I never had a car so I’d walk or take public transportation. This was the norm in my life, until our older sister Jo, who worked, purchased a vehicle. The two-seater convertible, that Jo purchased was the pride of our youth.

Mike

My husband Mike has been working since he was 12 years old. His family owned a tortilla factory, so Mike’s father would take him to collect cardboard boxes from liquor and grocery stores. These boxes were recycled and used for packing tortillas for delivery. Mike received five cents per cardboard box. He remembers going to work with his dad on a regular basis. When he turned 16 he was given the responsibility of a local route driver. Mike also took over the vacation routes of the company drivers. In addition Mike had a part-time job as a janitor at a convalescent hospital.

Mike was attending San Diego State when his father had a stroke. He came home to help run the factory and enrolled at Cal Poly Pomona to finish his education. Logistically Cal Poly was closer to home; however, when his father suffered a second stroke, Mike took over the tortilla factory and had to work full-time. So he transferred to the University of Riverside.

Our Union

By the age of twenty Mike had purchased a home. We met and shortly after this were married. Working in the front office of the factory was my new job. Checking in the drivers and taking phone orders were just a small part of what was required.

Miguel, Mike’s Dad

Mike had a special relationship with his father and, on many occasions, his father shared with him that he had changed his will. He told Mike that he made him the executor of the new will. Mike was too young to understand the ramifications of this conversation. So when his father passed away, his older sister from a previous marriage took over the business. She was the executrix of the original will. She did not waste any time in eliminating our positions. By trade she was a realtor and did not have any attachment to the company. She did not care how this would affect all the employees, including her brother. She was ruthless and quickly liquidated the company.

Boomers Bounce Back

What we have endured as a couple is living proof of how resilient Boomers are. Mike did not miss a beat. We packed up and moved to Santa Barbara to become part owners of a new tortilla factory. You can read about the venture in my other Blogs.

The 70’s Birthday Party

Our friend Hazel was celebrating her 70th birthday where we had to dress like we did in the seventies. Both Mike and I were borderline hippies, so this was a no brainer. I loved the freedom of this era: bellbottoms, leather vests with fringe, flowers in your hair. I did not have to go out looking for an outfit to wear because in my heart I’m still  a hippie. This was a wonderful gathering filled with love.

Free Love

This was a period of time that changed the world. When you developed the mentality of free love, it takes on a whole new meaning. Many of our acquaintances and co-workers in Santa Barbara were actual hippies. They lived a life of drugs and sex, so we watched their lives unravel before our eyes. This type of free love was self-serving and destructive. Thank the good Lord that He spared us from  this lifestyle.  As lost as I was during this time of my life, I never lost sight of God.

God’s Free Love

The love that God demonstrates for us is so fulfilling, nothing can compare to it! We will never fully understand God’s love because what He asks of us is so simple that we get lost trying to figure it out. As Christians we are to be living examples of love. This is a massive undertaking: what is required of us during these tumultuous times is to receive everyone in the love of God.

My Prayer

Dear Lord, as we Baby Boomers enter into our last chapter of life, give us godly wisdom to walk in Your shadow. Give us good health and guidance. And teach us to operate in Your perfect love.  Amen.