I little realized, during the first of many chats with Professor Ronald Morton Smith at his University of Toronto office, that one day I would be asked to publish a book of unusual merit. I recall receiving his completed manuscript in October, 1996 and setting it in a special place in my office. A short time later the news came of the professor’s unexpected and peaceful death at this home.

In December of 1996, I was informed by Mrs. Helen Smith that the publishing of PRO DEO would proceed in accordance with Professor Smith’s final instructions. Rather than plunging onward to get the book into print, I felt I should peruse it quietly in preparation for my discussions on the cover and textual design with Karen Petherick, book designer.

We both felt that something very special was in our hands and that we should not rush the process.

In spite of the rush of keeping up with a growing business, the cover development and formatting of the text for PRO DEO was never far from my mind and I often asked about its progress. I received the same smile and a caution not to be concerned. “Don’t worry. When the time is right, Professor Smith will let me know what he wants,” was Karen’s reply. I trusted her and let time do its work.

During the weeks that followed I visited a small arts society across the park from my office which displayed the work of local artists and crafts people in its gallery. I began to browse and amongst the paintings, sculptures and ceramics was a colourful wall display of unusual paper items. In that rainbow of colours, a small yellow butterfly attracted me. I knew just who would appreciate another artist’s effort.

When I later entered Karen’s studio, I said I had found her a new friend and presented the tissue- wrapped parcel. “How did you know I love them?” she asked, after unwrapping the parcel. I hadn’t.

The bright, delicate object was placed above her computer so it could remain in her vision. But on my next visit, it was framed on a book-sized sheet of white paper suspended on the side of a black filing cabinet.

At long last, Karen called me. “I have something for you to see.” On her layout desk were five cover designs of outstanding merit.

Within a few days, I met with Mrs. Smith and presented Karen’s designs in an orderly fashion; one was saved to the last. (Intuitively, Karen always places the one that will be selected as the very last design.) It was approved immediately when Mrs. Smith, viewing a small cluster of colour below the title, exclaimed, “Ronald would be so pleased with this design, he dearly loved a butterly.”

I sat incredulous. In the many hours we had spent together, talking of many things, Professor Smith had never mentioned his deep interest and pleasure in one of God’s most delicate creatures. And no suggestions had been made by him or his wife about an emblem for the cover design. Picking up the telephone Mrs. Smith called Karen and thanking her for her wonderful design, said. “In all the years we took holidays, Professor Smith never went anywhere without his book on butterflies. He thanks you, and so do I.”

Accepting the telephone from Mrs. Smith, I still hear clearly Karen’s reply: “I told you, when Professor Smith was ready he would let me know what he wanted.”

On a final note: Karen never met or talked to Professor Smith --- nor his wife until that phone call.