After a happy few years in California, my wife, our three little girls, and I were called to the mission field. In a responsible position I was supposed to expand the medical care there. First we went to New Guinea for three to four years. Then the General Conference sent us to Australia, which also had a large mission area. It was customary in those days that after about seven years of service in the mission, you would be given nine months of home leave.
A year before we were due to begin our nine-month vacation, I prayerfully began preparations. We were looking for a quiet place to live in the USA. In addition, there should be further training opportunities for me nearby and a job where I could earn good money, since the wages in the mission field were very modest. I wrote to my friend who worked at the University of California on this matter. In his reply he assured me that he had an interesting and well-paid research job in store for me. I was to contact him as soon as I arrived in the US. That seemed like an answer to prayer!
Then came the day we left Sydney for San Francisco. We looked to the future with confidence. Our voyage lasted 31 days. I found the crossing unbearably long, but my wife and our three girls enjoyed the carefree time on board.
Bad news
When I finally arrived in California, I immediately called my friend and discussed a number of details with him. I was supposed to check in with him on the first day of work before I left the house. Everything seemed to be going well. But God had a different plan for me. Sometimes what we have prepared so well, so that God can fulfill his intentions for us, goes wrong. When I called my boyfriend on the morning of the first day at work, as agreed, he had bad news for me. Shortly after our last conversation, he explained to me in dismay, a lawsuit against the university had come to light. The university then imposed a two-month hiring freeze, which of course also affected me. My friend tried verbosely to console me for the time afterwards; then I could definitely get the promised research contract. But nothing could be done at the moment.
I understood but was deeply disappointed. We finally agreed that I would contact him again in two months if I hadn't found another job by then. To be on the safe side, I gave him our current address and private telephone number.
Looking for a job
Now I had to look for another opportunity to earn money. I figured it wouldn't be bad to try Sacramento, the capital of California. There I asked the first passer-by where I could find work here. He pointed to a building and said I should try the California employment center over there. So I did the same. I was sent to a lady who was responsible for job placement. She showed me wall shelves with many, many thick files containing over 10,000 vacancies. The huge range included all imaginable jobs, from the simplest to the highly qualified.
I took out some folders and flipped through numerous ads. Three of them in particular caught my attention. The most interesting sounded the following job offer: "California Governor Seeks Special Counsel for Health Care." This governor was Ronald Reagan, later President of the USA.
When I considered whether this position could seriously be considered for me, I had doubts: “What advice could I give the governor? This vacancy has been printed in all the major American newspapers and I'm sure a lot of people will apply. Would I even have a chance?” But somehow the offer just wouldn't let me go. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that I would actually like to advise Ronald Reagan on certain things! For hadn't we Adventists received many good principles of health that we should pass on to others in due course?
A question of honesty
Finally, I took the three ads that appealed to me the most and presented them to the lady at the counter. She gave me an application form for each position and asked me to fill it out right away. In principle it was a simple matter. But two questions really gave me a headache: the one about my last salary and the one about my religious affiliation.
What would you think of someone who was last making just $50 a week? Shouldn't the admissions committee doubt my mental abilities, not knowing that Seventh-day Adventist missionaries were paid very little? Wouldn't it be better to just leave the field blank or would it be better to state my last salary in the USA? I made very good money at the University of Loma Linda, where I had done research. After some hesitation, I decided to make an honest statement nonetheless. I truthfully wrote, "$50 a week."
But I found it even more difficult with the question of religious affiliation. This information was mandatory at the time (it is no longer the case today). "If I identify myself as a Seventh-day Adventist, I can forget about the application," I thought to myself. But here, too, I finally made up my mind to stand by the truth.
Surprise
After filling out all three forms, I gave them to the lady at the counter. I was pretty sure that these applications were hopeless. I also told my wife that when I told her everything at home.
To my great surprise, a few days later, I received a call from the governor's office. I was told I was one of ten shortlisted people to be called for an interview. When I told my wife about the phone call, I again expressed my doubts as to whether I really had a real chance of being accepted. My faith at the time was not very strong.
"Are you Albert Schweitzer?"
A few days passed before the governor's office called again. The time had come: I was summoned to Sacramento for an interview.
The governor's mansion was impressive. I was then led into the room designated for the questioning. The members of the application committee sat on one side, and the vacant chair opposite was reserved for me. I sat down and looked around at those present. The Chairman's expression didn't bode well for me. With a slightly mocking undertone in his voice, he began the questioning. "Well, I read here that you were last paid $50 a week. Are you Albert Schweitzer, or are you a fool?”.
For a few seconds I didn't know what to say. Then I replied: “Neither, Mr. Chairman. I am a Seventh-day Adventist missionary. And we don't measure people by how much money they make, but by what they contribute to the work.”
The chairman had obviously not expected such an answer. He was amazed. His voice sounded completely different now, any hint of sarcasm gone. The situation had eased noticeably. Another prover spoke up: “A Seventh-day Adventist missionary? Can you tell us a little more about that?” And so I gave the commission a brief outline of where and how I had served as a missionary. At the end they asked me a few organizational questions and then I was allowed to go. My wife welcomed me expectantly at home. I immediately explained to her that someone else would certainly be chosen for this interesting position. After everything I had experienced, I assessed my chances as low to non-existent.
Unbelievable!
Three days later the phone rang; it was someone from the governor's office. He said, "You have been selected as the governor's special adviser." I was absolutely stunned! I happily promised to come to Sacramento as soon as possible. At that point, however, it was still completely unclear to me what exactly was expected of me and what I had gotten myself into. God doesn't always show us everything that's coming our way, lest we get discouraged at the beginning.
When we got to Sacramento, the governor told me my job was to create a health plan for the entire state of California! At the time, I knew next to nothing about California's healthcare system. I was forced to learn a lot of new things in a short time. But God helped me.
The governor assured me that I could enlist any help I could think of in preparing the health plan; there is generous financial and human support. I was allowed to make decisions independently, also with regard to my staff. I worked 15 hours a day to get things moving.
News
After a creative phase of several weeks was behind me, one evening my friend from the university called me at home. He said the hiring freeze had been lifted and I could start the planned research work immediately. I told him about my new, extraordinarily interesting job, which of course I didn't want to just give up now. But he insisted that he really needed me and therefore wanted to speak to the governor personally. He managed to negotiate a compromise with the governor: I was allowed to help my friend with his research work for a few hours a day until a replacement was found for me. So it happened that I was employed by two different employers at the same time for about two months. The governor provided me with an official car. In the morning I drove to the University of California and worked on the research project, and the rest of the day I worked for the governor in Sacramento. And I received a full salary from both jobs!
I did my best to get the health care plan moving forward as quickly as possible, even under this double burden, as I had limited time until the end of the vacation. The Lord helped me day after day, I could feel that.
An Adventist in government circles
As a governor's advisor, I moved in the highest circles of government in California. Everywhere I was introduced as an Adventist missionary from New Guinea. My stay in New Guinea had impressed both the members of the bid committee and the governor, for it was well known that cannibals had already murdered foreign missionaries there. Now, I felt it was God's guidance that I put my name on the Seventh-day Adventist form and identified myself as a missionary at the interview. It pained me a little, though, to think of how hesitant I had been to make that statement.
Knowing that I belonged to the Seventh-day Adventist Church, people expected certain behavior from me. They also sometimes behaved differently in my presence than usual. They often apologized when they used vulgar expressions in my presence. If alcohol was drunk, it was sympathetically mentioned that they knew about my abstinence. I didn't tell anyone that I didn't drink alcohol! But our actions are known to speak louder than our words.
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