Keith Warren arrived for the tour early that Saturday, and it gave us a few minutes extra to talk. Some people call it serendipity, but I know this was a God thing—a meeting that was supposed to take place.
Introductions began, and I learned he grew up in Kearny, Arizona. Oh! Jim and I had lived in Kearny for about 5 years, when our children were very young. In the process of talking about Kearny, I noticed his last name—Warren, that rings a bell. We knew some Warrens in Kearny.
“Did you attend Fellowship Baptist Church?”
“Yes, My parent’s names were Chuck and Joanne.”
“I’m not sure I remember them.”
“My grandparents were Art and Lester Warren.”
That’s when the light went on! Art Warren made quite an impression on us.
When we went to Fellowship Baptist, there was a beautiful scene on the wall behind the baptistery. Three months after we started attending, the scene was painted over, which surprised us at the time, so we started asking questions, and found that Art Warren was the artist. We expressed regret that the scene was gone, and Art painted one for us as a moving away present when we left. He died about a year later.
And here is his grandson!
I have been cleaning house over the last few years, and had that chalk drawing in with my teaching posters, which I gave away last year. Only I went through the pile one last time, and couldn’t part with Art’s scene.
Now I know why. God arranged this!