Gus (Larry) Alden, “Had I only kept the cooler in the van nicely stocked with ice cold beer.”

It was 1978 in Buffalo, NY, and I was the fundraising captain of 12 Oakies* just recently shipped over to the National MFT. One of them was a young Jewish fellow, short and stocky, and even more spaced out than the rest. For example, one day, I found him trying to assemble pieces of peanut crunch. I asked him what he was doing, and his reply was that he was recreating the tablets. His explanation was that it was a condition to liberate Moses.

Anyway, one Friday night, I had just dropped him off for a few hours of blitzing when some of his team members reported to me that they had smelled alcohol on his breath. I proceeded to drop everyone off as fast as I could and went searching for him.

I walked into every bar on his stretch, asking the bartenders if they had seen a short, stout fellow fundraising. Most of them had, but he had already come and gone. I must have gone to 10-15 bars looking for him. Finally, one bartender pointed to the back of the bar, and told me he was in the back room. I still remember it. It had my adrenaline going. I ran to the back of the bar and through a curtain into a dusky, smoky, little back room where there were about 20 old Polish men sitting at a long table, all nursing huge mugs of beer. And there he was, perched there at the table and sitting with them, nursing his own humungous mug of beer. I must say, he looked happy like I’d never seen him before. He looked up at me, grinned, got up from the table and followed me out to the van. He put his bucket of flowers into the back, climbed in and went for the back seat, laid himself down and immediately went to sleep with not a word said.

I don’t remember if I chewed him out later on, but I probably did, for one day a few days later, as he was climbing out of the van for drop off, and just a split second before slamming the door shut, he looked me straight in the eye and said, "Thanks a lot, Satan." Ah, the things one remembers!

A few days later still, we were in the van together, just the two of us. It was dark, and he was scribbling into a notebook. He would turn his head and peer at me for a few moments and then return to his writing. This happened a few times, so it began to stir my curiosity. I asked him, "What is it that you’re writing into your notebook?" He paused for a moment, and staring at me with a completely straight face said, "I’m.. writing.. down.. every.. word.. you.. speak.. and.. every.. damn.. move.. you.. make."

You might not be too terribly surprised to hear that he didn’t stay with the movement for very long. Neither did the other 11 for that matter, but I’m sitting here now some 22 years later, chuckling uncontrollably to remember these things, and thinking that had I only kept the cooler in the van nicely stocked with ice cold beer, he might have stayed longer than he did.

From 40 Years in America, pp. 241-42.

*refers to members who joined the “Oakland Family” as Family Federation was known in the San Francisco Bay Area from 1973-80.

Tyler O. Hendricks, “$12.00 and an ocean of tears”

In 1974, my fundraising team leader, Mr. Makoto Tsujumura, dropped me off in a parking lot, out of which I was kicked within a few minutes. It was in the countryside and I completed a small housing development door-to-door in about half an hour, and went back and sat on a hill above the parking lot to wait for Mr. Tsujumura’s return. Well, I dozed off and the afternoon wore on without my seeing him. I was struggling mightily in my heart -- should I return to the parking lot and begin fundraising again?

One side of me said, "Have courage and boldness -- return to the lot!" The other side said, "Be a good boy; the management does not want you there." Oh, the inner turmoil as I sat and the precious hours of my one and only life on earth dragged by, second by second, blow by blow, heartbeat by heartbeat. As I sat, rooted into the dirt, I heard this voice -- "you lazy coward, you’re happy that you have an excuse not to fundraise, aren’t you?"

Finally, Mr. Tsujumura arrived. It was around 7 pm and I told him my sad story, expecting him to whisk me off to another location. Far from it! "You stay and fundraise here and Igarashi-san can join you!" Knock me down with a feather! I watched the van pull away, turned around, and saw Mr. Tadashi Igarashi fundraising RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE DOOR! He was acting as if he were from the local Elks Club. And of course he was; he was from something far more "local" than that.

He had no concepts. He displayed courage and boldness.

Numbed by the day’s inner struggle and what my captain had just done, I froze in my tracks as I watched Mr. Igarashi. A moment later, I realized that I had been tearing a piece of paper into tiny pieces and letting them fall to the ground. Not wanting to leave a mess, I stooped down to pick up these tiny pieces of paper, one by one, one by one, each little piece. As I did, the words "God’s Heart" came to me and I started to cry. I couldn’t stop crying. I just cried and cried and cried and it was uncontrollably loud.

I made my way over to the dark side of the building and sobbed against the wall. Mr. Igarashi came over and I said, between sobs, that I was all right, it’s okay. And he went back to his fundraising.

And the police came. Not to stop him from fundraising, but to check out the reports they’d received about this guy crying. Mr. Igarashi came over and told them that I was having a religious experience. Good old American cops -- they thanked Mr. Igarashi for his service and left me to my religious experience. I wonder what they put in their evening report. My result that day was about $12.00 and an ocean of tears.

From 40 Years in America, pp. 131-32.

Rob Sayre, “A few were in the mainstream of commerce”

I met and joined the Unified Family in the summer of 1974 in Missoula, Montana. I was working as a diesel mechanic at a truck stop, contemplating college and the future of mankind. The night I moved into the Center and began living there, I had just returned from an antelope-hunting trip in East Central Montana, near a town called Two Dot, with a few colleagues from work. After driving all-night and skinning the five antelope we had shot, I drove to the Center and collapsed on their couch in the living room. When the European sisters and others came down for Morning Prayer, there I was, blood on my clothes and my gun on the floor! I’m surprised they let me stay.

I have no idea how I ended up on "the list" of people who would be selected to be State Leaders. We had just ended the Yankee Stadium campaign in New York. I was expecting to return to Wyoming and resume managing our church-owned restaurant, The Deli-on-the-Tracks. Instead, I found myself with a large group of members outside East Garden, with Father "eyeing" us. Soon, he began to assign us to various states as the new "state leaders." He told me in his gruff English, "You go to Missouri," but he pronounced it misery. After finding "my members," we left New York, headed for St. Louis.

Upon arriving, our car died and we were evicted from our center the next day. This was the high point of my six months there. I spent the next six months moving stuff from one center to the next; fundraising, trying to figure out what it was I was supposed to do; and returning to monthly meetings in New York, which were always depressing, not because of the content, but because I felt so completely clueless about what to do. Surprisingly, several good people joined during this time, which is a testament to their preparation, but mostly to God’s never-ending quest to re-unite with mankind, one person at a time and intimately. I was there and witnessed it, but can honestly say I contributed almost nothing.

Luckily, I was asked if I would like another mission and I quickly said yes. Not everyone spent their time selling flowers and candy on street corners. A few were in the mainstream of commerce. I was one of the lucky few. The Deli, as it was known, was a New York-style delicatessen in downtown Laramie, as western a town as you will find. It was a profitable business, supported the center, and was a wonderful place for new members to work and develop a spiritual life and a great witness in the community.

C. Thomas Phillips, “My leaders on MFT often used methods not unlike the Zen master”

A critical experience for me along my spiritual path occurred on the national mobile fundraising teams (MFT). It led me to an experience which is similar to emptiness or sunyata. My leaders on MFT often used methods not unlike the Zen master used to instruct his pupils. Buddhism is sometimes anti-intellectual; they especially detest pragmatism and rationalization. Like a Zen master, my leaders would sometimes refuse to answer simple questions, or ignore requests for rational explanations. I understood the motivation for such non-rational behavior by my leaders was similar to the Zen Master who shocked or awakened the student to bring him to a new level of consciousness. This strict vertical manner of relationship could be experienced as austere, even hurtful, yet I mostly felt the warm heart of leaders and consequently recognized their actions as motivated by true love.

One particular experience that led to my experience of emptiness or sunyata began with a miscommunication between my leader, called the "commander," and myself. Despite the authoritarian title, he was a paternal figure whom I respected for his warm heart and selfless concern for others. Under his leadership I was responsible for a team of eight other members in Atlanta, Georgia. Through a conversation over the telephone in broken English, I understood from him that our team’s next move should be to Denver, Colorado. However, when I telephoned after arriving in Denver, it was obvious that he was very upset. Nevertheless, he expressed very little other than his surprise. However, the next day’s telephone communication ended with a request to transfer one of my team members to another team. Each day thereafter, with each telephone report I was directed to send yet another member to different teams until only myself and the van remained of our team. Then the next cryptic instruction was to drive the van to Nashville, Tennessee. After a three-day journey I arrived in Nashville to await further direction.

The commander had informed the MFT leader in Nashville that I should join his team. After arriving at midnight, I soon joined together with my new team traveling overnight across Tennessee. We continued driving for hours with a few intermittent stops as members were dropped off to "pioneer" raising funds in small towns. At around six in the morning the van stopped and the team leader gave me the signal that this would be my town. "Are you ready?" he asked. Groggy, unshaven and still in dirty clothes from the trip from Colorado, I tried to get my bearings as I stood beside a box of flowers and a bucket crammed with bunches of carnations. The team leader sped off in a hurry promising to return around twelve. I offered flowers in the shops and offices for donations and then came back to the appointed spot at noon. After waiting for several hours, I decided that he must have meant midnight -- after all he had left a whole box of flowers, certainly enough for the whole day! I continued fundraising throughout the day and was anticipating being reunited with the team after a long day.

Now midnight, I stood at the meeting point offering the last few flowers to any remaining passerby. After one in the morning, bewildered and exhausted, I finally decided to retire to the flower box -- now empty -- to rest. The next day, wanting to continue my task, I purchased some candy at the grocery store to offer for contributions. Now distressed and anxious about what would follow, I returned to the meeting place at noon, now my second day in this small town where everyone seemed to have already been approached for contributions at least once during my visit.

When the team leader finally arrived after two in the afternoon, he apologized for not having been able to return as promised after his van had broken down a hundred miles away in a remote area with no service stations. However, this was only the beginning of a series of events over a period of more than forty days, which seemed designed by heaven for my personal spiritual training.

In the isolation from brothers and sisters in the remote areas where we found ourselves, there were often moments when only my relationship with God consoled the agony in my heart. These were treasured moments of rich spiritual rejuvenation that usually followed after "dark nights of the soul" which tested my limitations. Obstacles along my path seemed so insurmountable at times that the only way to endure was in complete denial -- as though I didn’t even exist! During this period, it was so clear that whenever I would become self-centered and complain about my situation, then some disaster would follow, such as being arrested for soliciting without a permit or having my fundraising product stolen.

However, after denying my self-centered desires, I achieved a new level of consciousness and perceived God’s spirit acting directly through me. As I would approach people for donations, I foreknew who would donate and how much. There were times when everyone I approached would generously give. A spiritual force which could move people’s hearts enjoined my spirit. It was a time of certain spiritual clarity with no awareness or concern for "self." I felt in harmony with the pulse of the universe and protected from any harm.

One evening towards the end of this forty-day period, the commander drove into the parking lot where I had been selling peanut brittle under the hot August sun. He expressed gratitude for my dedication to my mission and invited me into his car to report about my experiences during this period. I related my experiences of learning to deny my self-centeredness, and how I had reached a new level of consciousness in the realm of shim-jung or heart. Pleased with my response, he explained his prayer had been for me to deeply understand the importance of "purity of heart." I had fought with all sorts of desires: desire to be the best team leader, desire to be the best fund-raiser, desire to be recognized or appreciated, along with intense physical desire for food and sleep and with sexual temptations.

After detaching myself from personal desires and transcending the anxiousness over my own situation, I was no longer overly concerned about what others thought about me or how I might appear to others. The negation of inappropriate desires and expectation had left a vacuum which begged to be filled. Now I became filled with a profound realization of the principles working order and harmony throughout the universe and meaningfulness and purpose in my life.

After having walked a course that seemed to require my annihilation, God’s grace working in my life had prepared me for bigger responsibilities. I was later called to go to New York to receive a new responsibility to guide young members in their life of faith on the MFT.

Fifteen years later, the seminary allowed the opportunity to revisit my course to transcend my fallen nature through self-denial in the traditions of Christians and Buddhists seeking union with the ultimate reality. My course of fundraising had shaken me from habitual routines and provided the environment to find my genuine self through self-denial. Even now from time to time as I lose the center and focal point of my spiritual life, I recall these early battles to cast aside my petty concerns and embrace the public purpose and find my renewal.

From 40 Years in America, pp. 85-86.

Pamela Valente Kulhmann, “We were always exhausted”

I remember fundraising all night in front of a White Castle. I was stirring my coffee and I fell into it, asleep. Then I went outside. There was nobody outside, and it was freezing, the dead of winter in Chicago. I went into the street to fundraise the cars, and it was the middle of the night. I fell asleep standing up in the middle of the road. I woke up and said, "This is really dangerous!"

I always worked with a sister named Maria. I was the oldest, she was the youngest. She fell asleep every night counting her money. After we counted the money we could eat and go to sleep. The money was all over the floor. We’d hand it back to her and it would happen again. Then someone else would count the money and give her the hamburger. Then she’d fall asleep again and the hamburger fell on the floor. Once she went into a bathroom and never came out; she slept for the whole fundraising period. We were always exhausted.

From 40 Years in America, p. 150.

Laura Taylor Hayashi, “Brothers Must Be Leaders”

Our captain would always give morning service with the theme, "Brothers Must Be Leaders." I didn’t mind, but as the only sister on the team I wondered what this would have to do with me. It was a nice time. I enjoyed fundraising, could see the importance of it at that time, and somehow did okay in result. Not all the other members could manifest the same fortune, so I wanted to try hard to bring some inspiration as well as result. When our captain had to leave, who became captain? The only sister, of course! So much for brothers being leaders, I thought!

I really didn’t want another masculine-type responsibility, but as I looked around, I could see that as wonderful as these brothers were, they could use a little development before taking on the whole responsibility. So I tried to develop a "feminine" leadership style in a traditionally masculine role.

I gave each of the members a specific responsibility. Sometimes, it seemed much more work than actually doing the task myself, but my vision was helpful to sustain the effort. I could see them growing in grace daily. We grew quite close, and we had so many laughs, tears, and now warm memories.

Once, I had no area and no product left and no time. I still had to drop one member, go back to the center, and make the next pick up. Very tight. He had one case of candy left, so I thought. I said, "Do you have faith?" He said, "Yes!"

I said, "OK, here is your area." We were silent. There was nothing at all except a maximum security prison. I explained I had little choice at the moment, but since that was the case, God must provide. So amazingly cheerful, he jumped out. I drove off in sorrow and amazement. Thank God for young men like these, I thought. I hoped it wouldn’t be too bad. When I returned, he had sold out! Believe it or not, they had a wedding inside the prison that day. And incredibly, they let him in! He had faith. I always said, go to find God!

Another time, I dropped a member who was physically very young off in a parking lot. I hoped and prayed he would do well. He was kind of "spiritually open," and would sometimes do incredibly well and other times tell me about how many birds he had seen while he was out. We really needed the money, so I hoped we would have bills, not birds, on this occasion. When I returned, there was a whole crowd, and police had cordoned off the area. I asked what was going on. I was told there was a crazy guy shooting on the roof. What repentance I had. I thought, I sent this young man to his death. How spiritually insensitive of me. How evil.

Then, someone tapped me on the shoulder. He was spiritually led to go to a different area, and returned for the pick up. Thank God for those who are "spiritually led."

I thought one fund-raiser was going to have a heart attack on his birthday! We had planned a surprise birthday party, and everyone was waiting at a table, hiding behind their menus. He was last, and I dropped him off to "blitz" the restaurant. Not only did they drop their menus and yell "Happy Birthday," but the management brought out a bass drum and they were all singing and they gave him some cake or something as well. We had a ball. All of us grew so much from our experiences. And yes, all the brothers did become leaders.

From 40 Years in America, pp. 148-49.

David Balise, “The idea of ‘living for the sake of others’ began to become real to me”

When I think back, I realize how much I learned about God, myself and relationships, through the years I spent on MFT. There are so many amazing memories!

For example, on God’s Day 1975 all the teams met together to celebrate. Mr. Kamiyama wrote a personal message to each member. Most of them were full of praise and gratitude. I remember my shock and disappointment on reading mine: "You must overcome yourself before you can overcome others. Get victory by fighting against your own fallen nature."

This message prompted me to do some deep soul-searching. I realized that I had been very self-centered. I was preoccupied with my own standing on our team. Whenever I was having a really bad day, I found myself hoping that others were also not doing well, so that I wouldn’t look bad!

I determined from that point on that no matter how well I did, I would hope and pray that everyone else would do better than me. What a liberating moment! I really began to love working with the other people on my team. I could enjoy their successes. My fundraising results also improved dramatically, which was an unexpected benefit. The idea of "living for the sake of others" began to become real to me.

Another example: in autumn 1975 I was a struggling new team captain. I had no confidence to do the job well. Then I was transferred to Mr. Sawamukai’s region. Every time I would call Mr. Sawamukai at his office, the receptionist would say, "Telephone for you, Mr. Sawamukai." In the background I could hear Mr. Sawamukai answer, "I’m busy right now," or something to that effect. Then the receptionist would say, "It’s David," and then I would hear Mr. Sawamukai say, "Oh, David! Let me talk with him!"

Then he would tell me how well I was doing, how glad he was that I was in his region, etc. I felt that I was his favorite team captain. My self-confidence soared! Within a few weeks I was a new person. I began to see myself the way he saw me.

About a month later I spent a day at Mr. Sawamukai’s office. I was surprised to see that he did the same thing when each team captain called, no matter who it was! Then I began to understand what real leadership is. He made each of us feel special.

From 40 Years in America, p. 151.

Toshiko Wildman, “A Fireball Spirit to Do God's Will”

One year after I joined the Church, God sent me to a flower team. First, I was frightened, and I was not sure I could survive, but I later found the team members to be bright spirited and warm hearted, and I wanted to be like them. It was a heavenly soldiers' team. The mottos were ''Absolute investment" and "Concentration with all one's heart."

Every minute was precious, so we saved time in many ways. Our daily life was living in a van. We slept like sardines. We woke up at 6 a.m., and packed our sleeping bags. We took just five minutes to wash up, and to save time we didn't use soap. We parked at train stations so we could use the bathrooms. Then we gathered for morning service, reading Father's words. We made the day's goal, we believed in God's word, and we followed God's word in practice.

At the place the captain dropped us off, we always felt it was God's battlefield. Some of the places were unbelievable, such as in the countryside in the middle of farms, or in the mountains. Sometimes, it was at a very busy traffic intersection. When it was time for pick up, we had to be exactly on time for the captain to meet us. We had total unity, with no words of complaint, and we shared testimonies at the end of the day about how we met God. That is the foundation of faith and foundation of substance. God's grace and results came. That was our faith and life.

I memorized principled life in my body: 365 days a year with no rest, rain or shine, every day working from 6 a.m. to 12 midnight. We didn't go to Sunday service at the church, but we lived in the van. It looked like we were soldiers in boot camp, we were so intensely hard working. We felt that we were all walking the same path of God's course, Father's course, and Jesus' course. Our mission was to build the Kingdom of Heaven. Every day we gave our tears, effort, patience, and hard work, and experienced rejection and persecution. We felt closer and gained the fireball spirit to connect with the heart of God, True Parent's, and Jesus' heart.

Father started calling the people who had gone through that kind of training to the United States in 1973.

We carried on with that spirit. We had a four-day fundraising competition between Japanese and American teams. Many miracles happened during this competition. It was four days with little thinking about eating, sleeping, or language barriers. With God, True Parents, and our central figures, I tried my best with a heart of unity. Many people were buying my flower bouquets, and unbelievable things happened.

The results were that of the top ten, nine were Japanese members. I was the top seller, and the second was the American sister, Libby Mitchell. She couldn't understand how Japanese members could be at the top, so she studied and discovered that indemnity conditions were very important for faith and life. She made many conditions and called heavenly fortune to her. She inspired many American brothers and sisters. Father made a graph and showed us how different the results were before and after the competition, and how much higher the American members' results became. Father was really happy. I was happy that I could help American brothers and sisters to develop a fireball spirit to do God's will. I could transfer my flower-team training to the United States.

I joined National Mobile Fundraising Team (MFT) and stayed with it for eight years. I spent two years helping to train others and six years as a team mother. I worked together with American brothers and sisters, and this was my most treasured experience in my life.

From Tribute, pp. 373-75.