The Man in the Doorway

Lee Larson and his wife Sheryl Ramstad have been members of St. John’s since 2016. (You can click here to read a profile of Sheryl, written by the Rev. Barbara Mraz, for the Evangelist magazine back in 2018.) Lee is a talented poet, and we feel honored and blessed to have the chance to share some of his poetry with you over the coming weeks.

We asked Lee to introduce himself along with his poetry. He writes:

Lee Larson and Sheryl Ramstad

Sheryl and I have known each other for 20 years and been married almost 18 years. We met through a mutual friend. I lost my first wife to breast cancer. I have one son and Sheryl has three children. Together, we have six grandchildren.

I had heard good things about St. John’s from friends and coworkers. After attending several worship services and classes there, we decided to commit to St. John’s. Through the gracious hospitality of its members, solid educational classes, liturgy, and music, Sheryl and I have grown in our faith.

My career was in ministry and health care administration; I worked with two churches in downtown San Francisco and as health administrator for Health East, Mayo Clinic, and Benedictine Senior Care Services. Approximately 3 years ago I retired. Retirement has allowed me to spend more time at our lake cabin near Alexandria, MN. Growing up in Minnesota, lakes have always fascinated me. I love being on, in, or under water.

Almost 9 years ago, I was diagnosed with and treated for state 4 head and neck cancer. Today I am totally cancer free but continue to suffer the debilitating effects of extensive radiation.

Poetry allows me to write about my own transformational experiences which reveal God’s presence that is active and imbued in every living thing. I believe poetry is a divinely inspired means through which we are able to see God’s love in our lives. 


The Man in the Doorway

It was the oldest mosque in Cairo.
In the doorway stood an imposing, sturdy man
Clad in a white turban and a long grey robe.

As I approached, his eyes glimmered
His hands became alive as he beckoned me in.

I felt a kinship that transcended the spoken word.
It was as if we were old friends
Somehow brought together after many years.
As I entered, he bowed his head and place his hand on his heart.

As a sign of respect, I attempted to place a covering over my shoes.
Seeing my difficulty, he bent over and motioned me to rest my hand on his back.

He motioned me to join him
As we walked slowly in silence.
With a sweep of his hands and the pointing of his fingers
He showed me the ornately carved stonework,
The magnificently painted texts from the Koran,
The beautiful ancient handwoven prayer rugs.

But above all else, he showed me the reverence he had for this sacred place.
Then as we reached the entrance, he again bent over 
And motioned me to place my hand on his back.

Before I left the mosque, we both instinctively bowed to one another
And placed our hands on our hearts.

I stopped and thought that even though we did not share a common language
Or practice a common faith,
We were two souls who recognized that the divine knows no boundaries
In healing and remaking the human heart.

Recent Articles

See articles by tag:

Or search all articles:

Sign up to receive new articles by email:

* indicates required

Intuit Mailchimp

Skip to content