For Gracia ’66 and John ’65 Luoma, the Augsburg Sesquicentennial marks not only a milestone for the University, but also a time to honor their own family legacy. These frequent donors have decided to celebrate by fully funding the John K. and Gracia Nydahl Luoma Endowed Scholarship with a $100,000 cash gift.

“We wanted to be proactive in our estate planning. We wanted to see the fruits of our legacy before we died,” says Gracia, noting how financial help is essential for today’s young people. The scholarship will go to an undergraduate student who demonstrates financial need, academic achievement, and a commitment to vocational service, preferably in the Christian ministry, education, psychology, or medical fields.

“Emphasizing vocation for service has always been part of Augsburg’s vision,” John points out.

And Augsburg, adds Gracia, has long been “the family business, so to speak.” Born in Minneapolis to the Nydahl family, she recalls frequent outings to Augsburg events as a young child. Her grandfather Johannes, who emigrated from Norway in 1845, graduated from both Augsburg College and Augsburg Seminary, which he attended from 1883 to 1891. He became a professor of history and Norwegian before becoming Augsburg’s head librarian in 1920 and was also a member of the Augsburg Quartette, as was his son, Harold. Johannes and his wife, Tabitha, had six children, all of whom followed his footsteps, as have many other descendants. In fact, Augsburg recognized this “formative family” with a Distinguished Service Award in 2004.

“That I would attend Augsburg was never a question,” says Gracia, a math major who forged a career in computer science. Nor was it a question that she, as well as her prospective husband, would rank service high among their career goals. “Even in the business world, you can have a sense of service in vocation. You don’t have to be in a formal ministry to serve God and serve Christ,” she says.

John Luoma, the boy she first met in Luther League and later dated and married while in college, learned of Augsburg through his affiliation with Trinity Lutheran Church. In his quest to become a pastor, he never considered going elsewhere. Fully committed and active on campus, he was elected student body president in his senior year. After receiving his Ph.D. in theology, he served as a college and seminary professor and Lutheran parish pastor for more than 40 years.

“Augsburg was very formative for us in those years. It built on the values we’d had as young people, strengthening them, testing us, and preparing us very well for our vocations,” Gracia says.

The couple had two sons, both of whom also chose service vocations. Aaron, who died suddenly from an undiagnosed heart defect in 2015, was an occupational therapy assistant, international traveler, and frequent volunteer who worked with immigrants, refugees, and hospice patients. Jason is a clinical psychologist in Portland, Oregon. Neither had children.

“Our son is fine financially, and we have no grandchildren, which started me thinking: I would like to leave a legacy. Even on my mother’s side, there was always a commitment to service for others,” says Gracia.

The Luomas raised their family in Connecticut and Ohio before moving to their current residence in Lady Lake, Florida, but they return to Minnesota every summer to escape the heat. Now retired, they are able to visit Augsburg regularly, attending their class reunions and the annual Nydahl cousin reunion, usually timed to coincide with homecoming. They have reacquainted themselves with the current administration and reaffirmed their confidence in Augsburg’s vision. While the neighborhood and student population may have changed in recent years, the basic values have not.

“A lot of schools do not bring up their religious connection. I like that Augsburg is still proud of being a Lutheran college without being pushy about it,” says John, who has served on the ELCA Board of Education. Adds Gracia: “It has a unique place among Lutheran colleges. It does a lot to reach out to businesses and the community, and to make that connection between education and serving in an urban environment.”

She called herself Sandy Simpson from Spicer back then, and her journey from aspiring Willmar High School student to generous Augsburg University donor was as lively and adventurous as Sandra Simpson Phaup ’64 is today.

Her college-educated parents were trained as teachers, so it was no surprise that Phaup planned to go to college. But her first-choice school cost too much, and her enrollment at Lutheran Bible Institute was short-lived. Her goal of becoming a nurse landed her on the Augsburg campus, where she got a small scholarship and found a welcoming home she had not anticipated.

Imagine her surprise when a professor in the theater department allowed her to keep her bicycle in the old theater. “I found living in the city a little confining after being in the country, so she gave me a key,” recalls Phaup. “And I had Professor Philip Thompson for art, which I loved.”

Slowly but surely, she found her way. Though she had made a pact with her parents to earn a nursing degree, her sophomore chemistry class “felt like they were all speaking Russian—I never grasped it,” she says. So without consulting mom and dad, she transferred out, signing up for a 17th-century British literature class instead. English and teaching became her major and art her minor, but she also pursued an interest in Norwegian language and culture sparked by the Norwegian grandparent who moved in with the family while she was growing up. She read Nobel Prize writer Knut Hamsun and Ole Edvard Rölvaag’s Giants in the Earth. She carried a small notebook to record Norwegian words.

Her teachers picked up on her ongoing fascination. “When art topics were assigned, we didn’t get to pick. My friends got Monet and Renoir and I got Edvard Munch. I thought, ‘what am I going to do with this German expressionist?’ Two days before the paper was due, I hadn’t even started. I rode my bike to the Minneapolis library, checked the card catalogue, and found out he was Norwegian! I was so excited I did nothing but read about him,” she says. “It was life-changing. Augsburg professors know their students really well.”

As a sophomore, Phaup asked a Norwegian family friend in Spicer to help her move to Norway for a year, but her parents insisted that she finish college first. As a senior, she was registering for classes when a friend reported that their English professor had suggested she apply for a Fulbright scholarship. “What’s that?” was her first response. But she applied, was accepted, and arrived in Norway—“so focused and full of myself”—the following year. There she met relatives she hadn’t known existed as well as her husband-to-be, a Fulbright scholar pursuing an economics Ph.D.

At home in Arlington, Virginia, since 1976, Phaup earned a master’s degree and taught English and art for 30 years in England, Ohio, and Salem, Virginia, where her lively embrace of all study topics, from Bob Dylan to Allen Ginsberg, made her a favorite among students who still invite her to reunions. As a Kennedy Center teaching artist, she is occasionally invited to lead teacher workshops that integrate visuals arts and writing.

“I feel like I’ve really been blessed,” Phaup says, “and I thank Augsburg for making that happen. That’s why I have been donating every year.” She describes her gifts as an “offering of thanksgiving for what my experience was,” although she realizes that today’s students will have quite different experiences. “Augsburg is thriving where it is, serving a unique population, and I very much support the notion of serving that community,” she adds. “Augsburg is doing important work in the world.”

When the class reunion committee first met last May, the Class of 1968 Endowed Scholarship was not on the agenda, nor did anyone mention any sort of fundraising. But the idea had already sprouted in the mind of committee co-chair Bruce Benson, and by the time he reached home after the meeting, it was firmly planted. The retired St. Olaf College pastor knew that other institutions benefited from alumni reunion gifts, so why not Augsburg? Dare he test a gift proposal among his peers?

“If I hadn’t been on the committee, I don’t know if I would have proposed it,” he says, “but I thought, ‘let’s just see what happens.’” He emailed the committee members, respectfully acknowledging their other charitable commitments, making no assumptions about class members’ financial means or inclinations, yet exploring possibilities. Would they be able and willing to contribute? Would they resent being asked? Might such a project fizzle out before reaching its final goal?

His pitch was forthright. “In 50 years I’ve developed other commitments and loyalties,” he wrote, “but Augsburg is where I got an undergraduate education that helped me live a meaningful life and contribute to the world around me. Additionally, I am rather proud of what Augsburg has become since we were students. I’d like to support that.” One could do that on one’s own, of course, but “a class gift sounds like more fun.”

The response was unanimous: yes!

“It seemed like a great idea. A lot of us got scholarships,” says Miriam Cox Peterson, who thought a goal of $50,000, the minimum required for an endowed scholarship, would be nice, but $68,000 sounded even better. “Why not try? Kids going to Augsburg now are certainly paying more than we did. We were given that opportunity, and we want other people to have it, too.”

Back in 1968, she pointed out, her guaranteed tuition ranged from $1,000 her first year to $900 her last, and her summer jobs covered the $500 for room and board. Those jobs—destroying old files in a sub-basement, sliding carbon paper between insurance policy copies—were anything but glamorous, thus convincing her that a college education was essential to a happy future. She has remained grateful to Augsburg ever since, and she will contribute $10,000 to the cause.

Benson wrote to the entire class, identifying with how hard it might be to choose among competing responsibilities but also reminding them that they had entered the era of minimum IRA distributions and might be seeking a way to make a difference. So far they have donated more than $75,000 for the scholarship, which will be available to any student in need.

“Clearly, I’m gratified. The response is very satisfying but not surprising,” Benson says. The Class of 1968, which graduated during a momentous year of assassinations and Vietnam War protests, was characterized by others as “different,” more engaged, active, and risk-taking than most. “Fifty years out, we all have an honest sense of how influential our education was. Whatever we didn’t like has faded away, and we realize this is a good thing. I’m also rather proud of what Augsburg has become since we were there,” he says.

“I’m very impressed with what they’re doing. They’re incredibly inclusive, and service to the world around us is ingrained in them, just as it was ingrained in us,” Peterson adds.

Five decades ago, Augsburg seemed trapped by its confinement in the city, with no place to grow and all the action shifting to the suburbs, Benson explains. Since then, however, it “has embraced its role as a city school and has become a good neighbor and resource. This gift will help the Class of 1968 say both ‘thank you’ and ‘bravo’ to Augsburg.