When I was three years old we moved in this van from New Mexico to Minnesota. My parents wish was to study under Francis Schaefer in Rochester, where he was being seen at the Mayo Clinic. Francis was dying of cancer and his wife Edith wanting him to have a home away from home opened a L'abri house there.
It was winter in Minnesota and the van had no heat. My parents rigged a space heater with hot glowing coils and a temperament that caused it to shut down every time it was bumped even slightly. The usual culprit was me. My mother had made me a bed on the floor of the van and I found it nearly impossible to keep from hitting that heater with my feet. From this vantage point I could watch my brother, sister, and mother jump up every time my dad yelled "SEMI" and hang onto the roof to keep the air draft from popping up the broken camper top. Much to my dismay I was too young to participate.
When my father tried to sell it my brother and I stood on the lawn watching a potential buyer start the engine. Not knowing any better my brother and I imediately started yelling about all the smoke coming out of the back. My dad was not happy, but the man called back to buy it anyway.
My husband and I wish that it was still in the family, but life changes so quick. I see my son Kaiden's face in this picture of me, and I think of him being my age with hair on his face and a deep voice. I keep waiting to be grown up, but I'm starting to think that it might not happen in the way I think it should.
