A Tree of Life

(Written en route from Mexico City to Minneapolis, June 7)

Today is My Linh’s 16^th birthday.  Somewhat unexpectedly, I am traveling home this evening (my passport is full and I need an extra week in the States to add pages).  I am very excited to see My Linh on her birthday, even if I won’t arrive until 10:00 PM.

Our life with My Linh really pre-dates our knowledge of her, to a conversation I had with a friend during the winter of 1998-1999.  I was riding from Duluth to Minneapolis with my good friend, Brian Hess.  Both of us had recently become fathers and we were talking about life with children.  I remember telling Brian that as thrilled as I was to have a son, I was secretly jealous that he had a daughter.  At the time, Carrie and I had talked about adopting from Vietnam again.  Adopting from Vietnam without designating a gender preference meant that you would in all likelihood be referred a baby boy.  There were boys waiting to be adopted and a waiting line to adopt girls, and I never really could bring myself to check the box indicating gender preference when there were children waiting for homes.  So somehow, I always thought we would have a family of boys. 

I don’t really need to write about fathers and sons, or to say again how incredibly blessed I am to have Hudson as my son.  There is a special bond between fathers and sons – it is often misunderstood and often less than optimal – but it is uniquely special.  Still, there is something mystical in a healthy father-daughter relationship.  I’m sure daughters understand this, but young men are only able to observe this with awe.  For any young man who has fallen in love with a young woman, I think the father-daughter relationship achieves this mythic status.  You see this woman whom you adore, and your longing for her is heightened by the true affection, love and respect she has for her father.  Something deep inside honors this relationship with a purity of admiration and wonder.  You understand the father’s protective role and the way that his love heightens her beauty.  The day of your wedding you see your bride, escorted down the aisle by a man of noble character who will become your father-in-law.  You are humbled again as he gives her away, literally transferring his protective role to you.  You understand with sobriety that you are called now to lay down your life for her, just as her father had made so many sacrifices on her behalf to that point.  You pray and hope that you will be able to serve her as well as he has.

All this to say that on that cold winter night, driving with my friend Brian, I knew that his daughter, Livia, would become a beautiful woman of exceptional character and that Brian would enjoy this special relationship that I could only admire.  

In the spring of 1999, I was finishing graduate school and was searching for my first job as a plant breeder.  At the time, I most wanted to apply for a post-doc position with CIMMYT as a maize breeder, but Carrie and I were recovering from a difficult stretch, and it was clear that for us to leave the country then would have been unwise, if not impossible.  I had an application out for a post-doc at Cornell, and another one out with a small seed company in Harlan, Iowa.  I had to search to find Harlan on the map when I went to interview with Wilson Genetics.  I had been through a phone interview with Cornell, and I was very interested in the post-doc there.  Meanwhile, things progressed with Wilson, and time went by without hearing from Cornell.  I was invited for a second interview.  Carrie and I went to Harlan to explore this option, not really sure about moving to western Iowa. 

We stayed at the 59er Hotel just north of town. The hotel sign had been twisted by straight-line winds.  We drove through the town, looking at houses, wondering if this was the place for us.  On the morning of our second day, I had to make a decision on an offer.  I woke up that morning and read from Proverbs:

“Hope deferred makes the heart grow sick,

But a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."  Proverbs 13:12

 

I stared at the page and wondered what God was telling me.  For 10 years I had been hoping to return to Africa to serve.  Six years of graduate school…  Hope deferred.  My heart sank as I meditated on this verse.  But then God spoke to me again… Longing fulfilled – we would not be able to adopt again on a post-doc salary.  My heart revived.  At that time, with the state of our marriage, I could barely begin to hope that we might adopt again, but this job as an industry corn breeder could provide the means.  Maybe God would open a door of opportunity to adopt again.  And maybe, just maybe, He would give us a daughter.

Seven months later, Carrie gave me an adoption application as a Christmas present.  The following summer I was working at my desk on a sunny afternoon when I received an email forwarded from Carrie.  It was a posting from an adoption list-serve Carrie subscribed to describing a little girl with special medical needs at an orphanage in Ham Tan, Vietnam.  I remember gazing out my office window the rest of the afternoon wondering if this might be, if it could be.  Who was this little girl, and what wouldn’t I give to be her Dad.

We inquired, and waited.  Another family was considering adopting My Linh, but would we be willing to stay on a waiting list.  Of course.  The home study moved forward without a referral and then in late summer, the news that I could hardly believe could be arrived – would we consider adopting My Linh.

There was never a moment’s hesitation for me, but there were several ancillary considerations (see Eternal Unseen Things).  A two inch thick binder of medical records, visits with specialists and surgeons, questions about medical insurance, questions we couldn’t answer but had to entrust to God. Sleepless nights, and hours in prayer, and all the while a growing affection for this wonderful little girl, far away in Vietnam.

For twelve and a half years now, My Linh Yvonne has been our daughter.  Every day with her is a testament to the faithfulness of God in my life.  His promises are true.  She is to me a tree of life.  Fortunately, I do not have to imagine life without My Linh because I am no longer capable of conceptualizing it.  She defines me as much as having green eyes, or being right-handed.  I am convinced now that I am more glad being My Linh’s Dad than being Mike Olsen and the former makes the latter more humane and more loving.  She is kind, courageous, beautiful, bright, thoughtful, diligent and resilient.  She is everything that a father could hope for in a daughter.  I watch her with her friends and I see the calm, stabilizing influence she has, the faithfulness and goodness she represents, and I know she is a gift to them as she is to me.  She is a gift to everyone she interacts with.

A few rows in front of me on the plane just now, a grandfather lifted up his two year old grand-daughter and kissed her on the forehead.  It made me smile.  I used to wonder at the beautiful relationship between father and daughter.  To this day I hardly believe that I am experiencing it.  But I do know that in a few hours, I will walk through the door of our house in Minneapolis, and she will give me a warm embrace that will leave me with a joy incomparable.  Happy Birthday, My Linh.  I love you more than I can express and I will always be grateful to be your Dad.

Rivendell

This past week was spent back in the US, listening, learning and re-connecting.  It is difficult to express how blessed I am by the amazing people God has brought into my life – people on every side and from various backgrounds and perspectives who understand my calling and encourage me in such profound and unimaginable ways.  I had not anticipated the generosity and support of so many.

This, of course, begins with my family.  I’ve written previously about my immediate family, and I will again from time to time.  But the kind support of my extended family was really beyond my expectation.  We shared the decision making process with John and Maxine over the holidays, and I was so encouraged by their support.  Likewise, my parents also gave us their blessing and committed to pray. 



Tim and Emily

Last weekend, we were together with the Olsen family at Perrot State Park near Trempeleau, Wisconsin.  For fifteen years, we have gathered at Perrot on Memorial Day weekend – my parents and the families of their three children.  It is an anticipated tradition with so many wonderful memories tied to these gatherings.  The park was beautiful as always.  The lush green of spring, the swelling river, the crisp morning air, a gentle rain during the night.  My oldest niece, Emily, was engaged to be married at Perrot this year, and we celebrated with her and her fiancé, Tim.  We recognized and honored my parents’ upcoming 50^th wedding anniversary.  Deb and Jeff organized another fantastic race with challenges, and clues, and competitive banter.  A sporting football game with Jeff, Hudson, Nathan, Matthias and neighboring kids from another campsite.  A seven mile run at dawn with Ron and Josh.  A family hike to the top of Brady’s Bluff and a slow descent with Josh and Marni as we stopped to listen to wood thrushes and rose-breasted grosbeaks.  Card games with My Linh.  Saturday morning pancake breakfast.  A long walk with Carrie. 

It was sad breaking down tents on Monday, knowing that we will miss Perrot in the coming years… it felt a little like leaving the Shire.

Tuesday and Wednesday I visited Pioneer in Johnston, Iowa.  My graduate school colleague, Tabare Abadie hosted the visit.  I am fortunate to have very supportive contacts in the seed industry.  We are, at CIMMYT, continually trying to improve our breeding programs and I am very grateful to have the opportunity to learn from the experiences of private sector colleagues who have implemented constructive changes.  Tabare at Pioneer and Walter Trevisan at Monsanto embody this type of collegial support for CIMMYT and what we are trying to achieve.  Both of them are very accomplished professionals with extensive experience managing teams of scientists working on maize improvement internationally.  Both are also very helpful, generous, and constructive.

Thursday and Friday I visited the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.  I was invited to share some thoughts on technology implementation in maize breeding by Brian Love, a friend and former colleague who is currently a program officer at the Gates Foundation.  The Gates Foundation visit was impressive.  So many talented professionals focused on improving the lives of the impoverished and vulnerable.  It was humbling to meet experienced scientists and economists with a sharp focus on improving the livelihoods of small holder farmers.  I left with a clear understanding of the commitment and support of the people at the Gates Foundation.  They not only invest in what we do, they think critically and strategize about how to help us become more effective.

Friday afternoon, I drove south to Tacoma to visit my college friends Nils and Julie Luckman.  It was so refreshing to see Nils and Julie.  They have such a vibrant relationship and a beautiful family.  There is a wonderful simplicity and practicality about their lives.  They serve and love their family and their community with joy and laughter.  It was an oasis of kindness to visit them again after so many years.  We drove up into the mountains, had dinner together, and walked through the town of Puyallup at dusk.  All of the best qualities of these two dear friends have only intensified with time.

I also stumbled unexpectedly into the hospitality and kindness of Stewart and Marilyn Luckman, Nils’ parents.  Stewart and Marilyn live just around the corner from Nils and Julie, and they opened their home to me and offered me their spare room for the weekend.  I remembered Stewart Luckman from my time at Bethel College as an imposing figure, strong-willed and quite unique, a free-thinking sculptor and art professor, and I had no remembrance of Marilyn.  I had no prior context for the exceedingly warm welcome I received.

As I was describing my vocation and the journey that my family is upon, I met with the most sincere and enthusiastic support from the Luckmans.  The Luckman home sits on a steep hillside, surrounded closely by beautiful spruce trees on three sides.  Stewart and I talked for several hours on the deck outside their kitchen, sunshine filtering through the trees while towhees and kinglets were singing nearby.  Stewart talked about his experiences and perspectives on reconciliation and calling.  Marilyn shared wisdom from her long experience as a school administrator – insights into focusing and motivating teams toward a common goal.  I was so blessed and strengthened by these two saints as I enjoyed the tranquility of their home.  Marilyn gave me a book to help me find points of connection with people of other faiths as I traveled. 

Several years ago, my genetics professor and mentor, Weldon Jones, died unexpectedly at age 51.  I remember reflecting upon Weldon and writing that there is no greater honor or accolade than the affirmation of someone you deeply admire and respect.  Dr. Jones gave me confidence to do things I likely would not have tried.  He inspired me in a simple and profound way.  Meeting the Luckmans this past weekend reminded me again of the power of blessing, how the affirmation of those you admire inspires you to new heights.  It was providential to come into fellowship with Stewart and Marilyn and to reconnect with Nils and Julie at this juncture in life.  The challenges ahead seem less significant than the joy of the path forward.

 “I smiled on them when they had no confidence, and the light of my countenance they did not cast down.”  Job 29:24

Hey, Hudson. I know what we’re going to do today...






Hudson turns 16 tomorrow.  THAT went by fast.  One word comes to mind to describe 16 years of life with Hudson:  FUN. 

“F is for friends who do stuff together, U is for u and me… N is for aNywhere, aNytime at all, under the deep blue sea…” Sponge Bob.

Children bring joy to their parents and to their loved ones.  That is a providential gift.  But Hudson is blessed with an unusual ability to bring laughter and smiles to everyone he meets, and I have had the unbelievable honor of having him in my family every day since 1997. I wish everyone were allocated as many smiles in their lifetime as I’ve had the past 16 years with H.  If you know Hudson, you’ll know that I’m not exaggerating.

Hudson and Carrie at Dominguez Mexican Restaurant

It’s hard to write this, I’m laughing while I sit here thinking about it. 

About to get his waggon fixed...

Hiking with My Linh at Fish Creek Falls near Steamboat

So Hudson, I miss you and wish I could be there on your birthday.  I’d ask you what you would like to do and we’d come up with some sort of plan that would involve the driving range, a few games of pool at Parkway, Mario Kart, Star Trek, hanging out at Chris and Rob’s, a trip to Barnes and Noble, a game of Risk and maybe an episode of Phineas and Ferb… yeah, the mini-golf episode... “You must not be seduced by the coolness!”  - Candace

You’re FABULOUS, Pal, and I’m lucky to be your Dad.  Happy Birthday!

Skype antics



WhatChaDooooin???? -- Shelling popcorn with H.

Tomorrow Is Gonna Be Better

I’m writing from the air just now, somewhere over Greenland.  On my way home for a few days before going to Mexico for a month.  My laptop is almost out of battery life and I am burned out thinking about backcrossing schemes and cost analysis.  A while ago, I was listening to Joshua Radin on the in-flight system singing “Tomorrow is gonna be better”.  The song made me think of Carrie and of how grateful I am for her.  It is impossible to explain how inextricably tied Carrie is to my peace of mind and stability.  Going home to my closest friend and spending time with her -- no pretention, no anxiety over who I am. Being away makes being home so much more healing.  Something on the order of the calm that comes from exhaustion when you lie in the grass at the finish line of a marathon and drink in the cool air and feel the muscles in your legs twitching and tired.  You can feel your heart beat begin to slow.  I hold her hand and the same thing happens.

Ten years ago Carrie and I were at a very low point in our marriage.  2003 was a very hard year.  By the grace of God we emerged from that season stronger.  We moved to Minneapolis that summer.  At the end of the summer, Carrie gave me a card with a letter.  The letter was too personal to share, but the card represented something far beyond, something I needed to know and understand, something I had missed for ten years – not entirely, but mostly.  Something I had unintentionally neglected. 

Lovers Walking -- Pellizza da Volpede (1868-1907)

The picture on the front of the card depicts a couple walking in a sunny garden, talking with one another.  For Carrie, the picture represented two people sharing their dreams and hopes.  It helped me to understand.  I’ve carried the card with me for ten years in my computer case.  It reminds me of the precious gift Carrie is to me, it reminds me to listen, and it enables me to dream.  Not so much to dream about the future as to dream about our future.

 

The intervening years have been so beautiful.  Not without challenge - but always full of hope and grounded in love.  Vivid memories of hiking Hallett’s Peak with her.  Sitting peacefully outside a busy café in Santiago.  Walking in the rain to Lake Nokomis.  Holding hands through her cancer treatment or standing at my beloved Grandfather’s grave.  Watching our two children grow and flourish.  Witnessing the faithfulness of God and experiencing His grace through this exceptional woman, my dear friend and one true Love.  I hope to dream together for as long as God grants us life.

_____________________________________________________________

Let the rain fall,

    Let the rain fall,

Till the day is new and all that’s left

   Is me and you

Tomorrow is Gonna Be Better

                Joshua Radin

Urban Trail Running -- Harare

Urban Trail Running -- Harare

Two times this week I was able to get out running in Harare, Zimbabwe.  Early Sunday morning I ran from the hotel out and back – just over 10 miles.  It was a beautiful, cool morning.  There are well worn paths along the streets of Harare.  Some streets have sidewalks in various states of disrepair. Where the sidewalks end, there are foot paths through the brick-red soil.  You need to watch your step while running in Harare – roots and stones on the foot paths or uneven sidewalks and potholes in the pavement keep you from daydreaming.

It might have been confounded with the exhilaration of running outside on a beautiful morning, but it seemed to me that the people of Harare were uncommonly cordial and personable.  Right at the five mile mark, there was a small grocery store.  I bought a bottle of water for a dollar.  The water was actually $0.65, but the cashier had no coins.  He asked if I would like a second bottle, but one was really all I wanted to carry.  So many people greeted me on the run.

It was certainly memorable for me – my first 10 mile run in Africa. 

 

My shoes enjoying life in Zimbabwe.

Uncle Tom and Evangeline

It is difficult for me to say how I reached the age of forty-two years having grown in my love for literature and having been inspired from my youth by the writings of Dr. Martin Luther King - how I might have taken this long to begin reading Uncle Tom’s Cabin.  I pretend to have no excuse and will only move forward with gratitude for what this story is speaking to me now.  I am just over half way through the book and I don’t know what is yet to come in the story, nor, sadly, do I know anything about the author, Harriet Beecher Stowe.  For these reasons, I hesitate to comment on the entire book, knowing the importance of the story not only to American literature, but also to American society. 

Nonetheless, on this particular morning, I encountered in the middle of this tragic, painful tale, the most beautiful description of an unlikely friendship between a patient, humble sufferer and an innocent, loving child.  A slave sold away from his family and a young girl, the daughter of the slave owner who had purchased him.  The redemptive impact of the friendship with Evangeline on the lost years of Tom’s life is exchanged for a profound spiritual growth and depth of compassion growing in Evangeline as a result of her close association with this gracious, kind saint.  I can’t begin to describe the impact of this interaction on me, so I will just share some of the text directly from Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

From CHAPTER XXII – “The Grass Withereth – the Flower Fadeth”

Life passes, with us all, a day at a time; so it passed with our friend Tom, till two years were gone.  Though parted from all his soul held dear, and though often yearning for what lay beyond, still was he never positively and consciously miserable…

Tom read, in his only literary cabinet, of one who had “learned in whatsoever state he was, therewith to be content.”  It seemed to him good and reasonable doctrine, and accorded well with the settled and thoughtful habit which he had acquired from the reading of that same book.

His letter homeward was in due time answered by Master George.  It contained various refreshing items of home intelligence… The style of the letter was decidedly concise and terse; but Tom thought it the most wonderful specimen of composition that had appeared in modern times.  He was never tired of looking at it, and even held a council with Eva on the expediency of getting it framed, to hang up in his room.  Nothing but the difficulty of arranging it so that both sides of the page would show at once stood in the way of this undertaking.

The friendship between Tom and Eva had grown with the child’s growth.  It would be hard to say what place she held in the soft, impressible heart of her faithful attendant.  He loved her as something frail and earthly, yet almost worshipped her as something heavenly and divine… and to humor her graceful fancies, and meet those thousand simple wants which invest childhood like a many-colored rainbow, was Tom’s chief delight.

Nor was Eva less zealous in kind offices, in return.  Though a child, she was a beautiful reader; - a fine musical ear, a quick poetic fancy, and an instinctive sympathy with what’s grand and noble, made her such a reader of the Bible as Tom had never before heard.  At first, she read to please her humble friend; but soon her own earnest nature threw out its tendrils, and wound itself around the majestic book; and Eva loved it, because it woke in her strange yearnings, and strong, dim emotions, such as impassioned, imaginative children love to feel.

The parts that pleased her most were the Revelations and the Prophecies, - parts whose dim and wondrous imagery, and fervent language, impressed her the more, that she questioned vainly of their meaning; - and she and her simple friend, the old child and the young one, felt just alike about it.  All that they knew was, that they spoke of a glory to be revealed, - a wondrous something yet to come, wherein their soul rejoiced, yet knew not why; and though it be not so in the physical, yet in moral science that which cannot be understood is not always profitless.  For the soul awakes, a trembling stranger, between two dim eternities, - the eternal past, the eternal future.  The light shines only on a small space around her; therefore, she needs must yearn towards the unknown.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin.  Harriet Beecher Stowe

The story brought to mind my young friends Claire and Carly - their beautiful innocence and disarming kindness warm the hearts of so many haggard saints whose lives have seen trouble and pain and injustice.  They sit together with old children in a sanctuary in South Minneapolis on Sundays listening to Pastor Walt expound the book of Revelation while his own heart longs together with many of us that these precious young ones will one day take refuge in God when they meet with suffering - that like Hannah, they will pour out their soul before the Lord in that day (I Samuel 1:15).  The story reminded me also of the old children who shared the Word with me in the innocence of my own youth and who prayed for me from nursing homes and hospital beds that I myself might find grace to help in my own hour of need.  I am grateful for them, and humbled to be the beneficiary of their patient faith and kindness.  And together with these dear friends past and present, I yearn toward the unknown, the glory yet to be revealed, the wondrous something yet to come.

Come, everyone who thirsts

“Come, everyone who thirsts,

come to the waters;

and he who has no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without price.” Isaiah 55:1

Since leaving home in late January, I’ve been in a different city every Sunday.  I have not taken the opportunity to gather with others for worship while I’ve been traveling, and I have not yet looked for a church home here in Mexico.  God is faithful and I’ve been very blessed to be able to listen to sermons online and to meditate on His word.  Still, something deep in my soul longs to worship with the people of God, to draw encouragement from the saints, and to serve and edify my brothers and sisters in the Lord.

Being home in Minneapolis last Sunday for the first time in six weeks, I looked forward to Sunday morning worship with a greater than usual anticipation. I was thirsting for the presence of God in the midst of His people.  “I rejoiced when they said to me, let us go to the house of the Lord.” Psalm 122:1.  It is an inexpressible honor and blessing to be able to gather with the local body of Christ.

 

We arrived at the beginning of the worship time.  “I was created to make Your name glorious.”  To lose my voice in the song of the congregation was water to a thirsting soul.  Before and after the service and during the worship time, the people of God stopped to welcome me and encourage me and to pray for me.  Brothers and sisters who partner with me in ministry and who care for my family in my absence.  Brothers and sisters who know my weaknesses and my faults, who understand my temptations and who forbear with me, forgiving and praying for me.  Brothers and sisters I’ve known for 20 years and brothers and sisters I’ve known for a few months.  The kinship of the family of God draws us together as a people dependent on grace.  It was good to be home.

 

 

“Seek the LORD while he may be found;

Call upon him while he is near” Isaiah 55:6