The year is 1519. A dapper captain of low Spanish nobility struts from his ship and commandingly marches onto the shores of eastern Mexico, claiming the land for Spain.
They’re not so different from you or me. They’re just everyday people.
They don’t have specialized training. They’re not necessarily spiritual giants. They work, play, laugh, and cry. So what is it that makes them different?
They’re busy preparing for Hope for the Homeland.
High-schooler Patricia was miserable at home, physically, mentally, and verbally abused by her step-father. Her grades were dropping, and life at home had become unbearable.
“I doubted that I would live to see adulthood,” she remembers, “and at times I even contemplated ending my own life in order to escape our home.”
By most counts, the '50s was a great time to be alive. World War II was over. Europe was emerging from ruins. The economy was booming. Jobs were plentiful.
But it wasn't all roses. Perhaps the greatest fear for Pacific Northwesterners was that the Russians might send planes over the North Pole to launch a nuclear attack.
Ten graduating seniors were recipients of the Caring Heart Award, given annually to academy students who exhibit leadership qualities in their churches and communities.
No student who really wants to attend this Adventist school and is willing to work hard to be here will be turned away for financial reasons. No one.
Hard times. Skidding stock markets. Flat sales. Threatened layoffs. Unemployment. The temptation to retrench—to play it very, very safe financially—strikes the stoutest hearts.