Our daughter Tara was in 9th grade when I started Trees for Life. It was now three years later and Tara was filling out college applications. She came to our bedroom to talk. It was late. Treva and I were both reading in bed, about to fall asleep. Tara lay down between us and asked if she should file for admission at Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas.
There was no question in our minds, because that was where she wanted to go. But her real question was different. Where was the money going to come from? We all knew that Trinity was an expensive school.
I told her that Treva and I had discussed it and planned to take a second mortgage on the house. To Tara, that was not practical. She was fully aware of our family finances and knew of our problems meeting the interest payments on our current loans, not to speak of taking substantial additional loans.
She panicked. “I’ll end up going to a university in Kansas!”
I tried to reassure her, telling her to block all other universities out of her mind and not give any quarter to fear. I told her to build mental pictures of going to classes at Trinity, going to the cafeteria, and her dorm. I talked about the miracle of faith. I told her that I did not know how she would go to Trinity, but if that was what she wanted, then somehow events would make it possible.
Before opening my mouth, I knew I was off base and not responsive to her concerns. Her issues were practical and the only answers I could offer were esoteric. She was in tears and was not buying this faith business. She reminded me that I had assured her the money would be there when she was ready for college. She felt unfair punishment for my unilateral decisions in gambling our resources on Trees for Life. How long can one go on faith after all?
“Dad, two plus two equals four, doesn’t it?” She stalked out of the room, banging the door shut.
Treva went to Tara’s room to assure her of our love. I remained behind because my presence would have further ignited the situation. I was the culprit.
My condition was perhaps like that of a boxer who was pinned against the ropes and being pummeled. I felt the guilt of an alcoholic who had wasted the last of the family fortune. What if she was right?
Several months before, when our cash flow was very low, Treva and I had discussed how we were going to finance Tara’s college education. That evening my faith wavered, and I suggested that Treva might have to find another job. But that was not a real alternative because, without her, Trees for Life would fold. She was the soul. I wondered if I should take another job for a couple of years and let Treva proceed with Trees for Life. That was not practical either. What can a soul do without the body? I could feel the intensity of the struggle within me and sought guidance.
An inner knowing reminded me of the faith Columbus must have felt with his fearful crew on the verge of rebellion.
As Treva was consoling Tara, the silent voice with the power of a million tongues spoke: “You act as if she is your child.”
Instantly, it all became clear. I had forgotten my covenant not to identify with anything on earth. She was God’s child. I was not to usurp that heritage and call it mine.
I turned the lights off before Treva came back. I did not want her to see the big grin on my face. I was like Columbus leading on to a new world. There was no room for fear. Ahoy, mate. Treva would never have understood my lunacy.
There was indeed a feeling of joy. Over the past 50 years, one of the most valuable lessons I had learned was that two plus two makes four only in the most elementary sense. I would have liked to explain this to Tara, but that was not the way. She had to experience it herself. I was grateful that such an educational opportunity had been created for all of us.
This whole situation came flooding back to me soon afterwards when I received a phone call from a good friend, Larry Jones. President of the Coleman Company. We talked about our families, and I mentioned that Tara was applying to Trinity. He was very interested and told me that he was on the committee at Trinity to recommend students for scholarships. “Do you think Tara could come and talk with me sometime?” Larry asked. I was sure we could set something up.
Tara went to meet with him soon after that. A few days later we were notified she had received a sizable scholarship to Trinity—enough to tilt the scales so Tara could attend. I thanked Larry for his help, though I knew I was expressing my thankfulness to the Source behind him.
It had taken me hundreds of miracles before it dawned on me that two plus two, when fused together, can make not just four, but infinity.

love this story. Thanks for sharing. Keep your eyes focused on the goal. Friends in your path are always a good thing.