In this, my story, I could sing a song of traditional things, of birth dates and places, of events and accomplishments and such.

Or, I could gather all of my dearest friends about me and with them could sing, instead, a song of more magical and inspirational things, a song of beauty and of faith, of grace and of love.

I could sing of my thirty-sixth year, the turning point year of my life and the year when everything about my life came into crystal focus, the year when I was able to see at last the Design Of It All and God’s Perfect Plan at work throughout the entirety of my life.

It was only then, after my return from the desert of Kuwait and after the miraculous way in which God blessed me with an opportunity to fulfill a dream and to teach at Iowa State that I was also able to understand - and to bless - the questions and the difficulties of my childhood: the death of my beloved American, yet very British grandmother; the abrupt and traumatic death of my father; the hard won victory in achieving my goal of becoming class valedictorian; the often arduous work of an after school and all day Saturday job at a time when others about me were able to revel in years of glorious adolescent freedom. It was only then, in my thirty-sixth year, that I would see and understand that God had been quietly providing blessings and gifts for me within the struggles, the difficulties, and the ever-present denials of my life.

It was also only then, in my thirty-sixth year after my sojourn in the desert where Abraham had walked so very long ago, and within the ensuing blessings of teaching at Iowa State University that I would see the care and love with which God had placed special people at such perfect moments of my life to guide me and to help me along the way He wished me to go.

Only then would I begin, truly to hear the song of my mother, who taught me ever and always to be gracious and to be grateful and always to say “thank you” and whose strength of the Oak and Love of the Roses would become my song, my strength, and my love as well.

Only then would I begin also to hear how subtly the magic had first begun to sing its way into my life through those named Joe, Bobby, Tony, Clete, Tom, Mickey, Roger, Whitey, Jim, Ralph, Elston, Yogi, and all the boys of summer, for it was they, the New York Yankees of the mid 1960’s and their spirits, who had first sung to me of utterly fascination and wondrously magical things and of the infinitely mesmerizing spirit of the Game.

During these early years I was blessed with the magical song of a high school teacher whose high expectations and passion for her subject would set the course for my life. She would also introduce me to my lifelong poet friends of the American Renaissance - Thoreau, Emerson, Whitman, Dickinson - as well as to their special magic, and the song within me would begin to sing with great joy and love for them.

As a freshman at the State College of Iowa, later renamed the University of Northern Iowa, I was especially fortunate to be blessed with the quietly joyful music of an instructor named Marv who first recognized in me all the academic and creative gifts which no one else had, whose high expectations, inspirations, and guidance ever encouraged me along my way and who, in the process, became my mentor (in the days when that word still held special meaning) and my cherished friend.

A fellow freshman who I later, in my literary works, christened Melody in honor of the song which sang within her would become my dearest and my forever friend and, by the example of her life, would come to define for me and for others the very essence of the word Love.

A teacher and a poet friend named James Hearst would, through my quiet and careful observation of his style, sing to me of a most magical element to integrate into my own teaching career.

With enchantment, the mountains of Colorado would beckon me home to them, would sing their song of exquisite beauty and splendor to me, and would bless me with both their inspiration and their strength.

A fellow teacher who became the long ago/short ago friend I named Erin in one of my literary works would one day quietly sing to me that there are all kinds of love when I thought there had only been one.

A seagull named Jonathan would sing me to myself and authors named Richard Bach and his wife Leslie Parrish Bach would challenge me with ideas; the song singing within me would begin to resonate in perfect harmony with them.

A friend named Claudette would gift me with a book which would creatively express the excruciatingly difficult and painfully lonely, isolating metamorphosis of nondescript caterpillar into exquisitely gorgeous butterfly and, with this gift of book, would change my life forever.

The world’s most beloved troubadour, John Denver, would forever define for me the words unconditional love and I would forever be grateful for his life and for the love which he so joyously and so unselfishly gave to the children and to the world. His song was, at heart, my song, the song of Love I would forever sing.

The music within me would sing to me during a midnight hour early in my teaching career at ISU of the time for me to begin the writing of my book, a book of metaphor, myth, and legend, a book containing songs of magic and of wonder for everyone, a book which the music within me knowingly sings is the Great American Novel for which so many have searched.

Guided by the hand of God, a brother named Rog would pen for me two exquisitely beautiful poems, the first of which would quietly whisper to me that “the world needs you to care;” the second of which would define and sing of the book I had crafted as a “masterpiece of love.”

In this, my story, I could have sung of traditional things, of birth dates and places, or events and accomplishments and such. Instead, in gathering my dearest and most cherished friends about me, I choose to sing in grateful celebration of those who have been an intimate part of the Exquisite Design, Of It All, whose Light and Love have helped to shape my character, to guide my path, and the wonder they have sung into my life. I hope I have created a little song of magic and of inspiration, of beauty and of faith, of grace and of love as well in the lives of all who read this and who wish to hear and to celebrate the music, the anthem that is Love, too.

Jan Nuehring, age 59, of Lytton, Iowa, passed away peacefully on Saturday, February 2, 2008, at the Good Samaritan Center in Laurens, Iowa, following a courageous battle with breast cancer. She was born on September 1, 1948, the daughter of Frank and Florence (Hollrah) Nuehring. Survivors include her brother, Roger Nuehring and wife Rae Jean of Albert City, Iowa, and their children: Kristina (Paul) Brewster of Panora, Iowa, and Dan Nuehring of Laurens; extended family members; and many friends. She was preceded in death by her parents, grandparents, and stillborn twin sisters.

A memorial service will be held at 7:30 p.m., Friday, February 15th at the Farber & Otteman Funeral Home in Sac City with visitation beginning at 6:00 p.m.