In 1968, I went to college at Biola College in La Mirada, California, a suburb of Los Angeles. I only attended for two weeks and then quit, returning to the college I had attended as a Freshman, Cascade College in Portland, Oregon. The reason I went to Biola was that Cascade had decided to close after my first year due to financial and accreditation problems. After I arrived at Biola, the leadership of Cascade decided to try to keep the school open. I received a phone call from one of the professors informing me of the change and asking if I would return. I was on a Greyhound bus the next morning. I loved Cascade, and I hated Los Angeles. One of the reasons was my job. I needed a reasonably well-paying job to stay in school, so, given my farming background, I applied for a position at a large veterinary clinic a few blocks from the college. They were overjoyed to get me. I was surprised and honored by their enthusiasm to have me come to work there. After my first day, I understood why. My job was to administer enemas to large dogs before their surgeries. I would put a muzzle on them, trying not to get bitten in the process, carry them to a bathtub, and lash them to the rails that were constructed on both sides of the tub to try and keep them from jumping all over the place, and then give them an enema with a garden hose with the end cut at an angle. After the enema was finished, I bathed them and dried them off with a hair dryer, then carried them to the dog operating room. My part was done, and I went off to get the next dog on my list. I could usually get six dogs done in a four-hour shift. It was a great blessing to return to Cascade for many different reasons. The major blessing was Patty. It was my sophomore year at Cascade that I met, dated, and got engaged to Patty. The school only stayed open for one last year. We got married at the end of it, and then went back to my parents’ dairy farm for five years before we came down to Salem to attend college at Western Baptist Bible College, now known as Corban. It was during our time there that we helped start Jefferson Baptist Church. From the time I graduated from High School in 1967 until I became the Pastor of Jefferson Baptist Church in 1976, it seemed like there were a dozen major decisions and changes made in my life. At this point in my life, 50 years later, it is easy to see that God was orchestrating the entire journey. I recall being extremely anxious and uptight over every decision I made, fearing that I would ruin my whole life with a wrong choice. I can’t imagine my life being any more blessed than it has been. Every decision was perfect, especially the one to quit that job. I left without telling them, and I never got paid for the most miserable two weeks of my life.