Lloyd S. Peterson

A Celebration of Life – Lloyd S. Peterson May 15, 1923 – December 15, 2008 Praise the Lord, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits. Psalm 103:1-2 Lloyd Swan Peterson was born on May 15, 1923 in Minneapolis, Minnesota to Otto and Alice Peterson. He was the oldest son of four children. He attended public schools and was a graduate of Roosevelt High in south Minneapolis, with interests in theatre and music. While in grade school he committed his life to Christ. He attended Bethesda Free church, where he soon became active in the youth group and met the love of his life. In 1942 they were married in the pastor's parsonage. A year later their one and only child was born. One of his first jobs as a family man was milking cows and taking care of the Amdahl Dairy near Milaca, Minnesota. They later moved to Minneapolis where he sold men's clothing at Sears and Roebuck. In 1948 Sue and Lloyd decided to escape the frigid winters of Minnesota and migrated to Denver. He delivered milk and bread to homes for several years, before moving into sales. He became a terminal-sales manager for a freight company. In his latter years he worked as a Senior accounts manager for Capitol Federal Savings and Loan, bringing in large investments. The retirement years, beginning in 1982, found them seeking another warmer climate in Phoenix. Not one to be idle, he served as a hospital volunteer and also availed himself of various community singing groups. When Sue experienced a debilitating stroke he lovingly cared for her until her passing in 1994. He remained in Phoenix until moving back to Denver in May 2008. His love for the Lord and a desire to share a God given gift moved him to lead the music programs, as well as sing tenor solos at many churches in the Denver area. He also assisted in starting several churches, including one his son started in Parker. Lloyd will long be remembered for his love to share the Gospel in song, his generosity to missionaries near and far, his diligent work ethic, and his unwavering love for his wife and family. He is survived by his son Wayne Peterson, grandson Drew Peterson, brother Maurice Peterson, Minneapolis, and sister Kathleen Peterson, Minneapolis. His sister Patricia Thulin passed away November 2008. A Memorial Service for the immediate family and only close friends was held at Cherry Creek Presbyterian Church. Memorial Gifts may be given to assist missionary Joyce Abrahamson in Porto Velho, Brazil. While seventy-nine years old, she continues to feed, clothe, and minister the Gospel to over 150 destitute children. Lloyd and Sue were instrumental in Joyce and Arne's initial call to the ministry and have supported them ever since they went to the field. Mailing address for memorials is: Believers Christian Fellowship Joyce Abrahamson – Brazil P O Box 861 Elizabeth, CO 80107-0861. You may leave a message with Horan & McConaty at 303-745-4418 for the family to call if you do not have our contact information. ****************************************************** Last night my Father died . . . Last night my father died . . . the quivering voice confirmed--his heart had stopped-- his last breath was taken - - - life had ceased. Last night my father died . . . and I faced mortality. Last night my father died . . . I realized, as my wife and I trudged the crunching snow and faced a familiar door. Once it beckoned us – now it spoke nevermore. Last night my father died . . . we huddled as a family, the care workers muttered sympathy's, our tears flowed, and we knew it to be so. Last night my father died . . . I sought rest for the soul and bodily sleep, but emotions strained, the mind exploded . . . Images of life – words of encouragement – shared moments in time - - enriching times of joy – priceless pictures held still - - Last night my father died . . . the man who gave me life, spoke words of hope, gave unwavering love, rejoiced in accomplishments, supported endeavors, shared a smile in spite of the bodily despair - - would never speak here again . . . Last night my father died . . . but wait, - - He believed, He walked, He obeyed - - he knew the voice of the One who called Him home. He was not alone. Last night my father died . . . But his legacy lives on . . . decades of eternal giving . . . a tenor voice raised to praise the Savior and lift the sorrowed soul . . . a gift here, a gift there – a child clothed - - a shelter from the cold - - - the message of the Savior to those far and near. People he didn't know. Oh - - to be like dad. Last night my father died . . . No my friend, He just went . . . home! Wayne Peterson – December 16, 2008