The Birthday I can't remember

Ten years ago today, I had more people visit me for my birthday than any previous.  Lots of family and friends sang happy birthday.  A huge birthday card was made for me, with dozens and dozens of people who signed it, and expressed their deep love for me.  Many more prayed for me that day.  But I had no idea.  It was my 46th birthday, and I was in a coma in the intensive care at the U of A hospital in Edmonton.  Later, I was told the whites of my eyes were flaming red, my body terribly swollen, and I was unrecognizable.  Yet here I am ten years later, alive and healthy.  An extra special blessing is that I'm not in a wheel chair, as I was told I could be in ten years time. 

On a happier note, birthdays are an exciting time to express love for others.  Early on in our marriage, I had heard an aunt share an idea that I gladly adopted for our family, and it gave us many joyful memories over the years.  Early in the morning, I'd prepare a special breakfast for the person celebrating a birthday.  It was usually Norwegian pancakes, or "roll ups" as we referred to them.  They could be fixed with butter and brown sugar, fruit sauce with whipped cream, or whatever way the birthday person loved them.  Often that would be accompanied with bacon, ham, fruit, smoothie, coffee, or whatever, depending on their age of course.  What I didn't realize was that over the years Ed and I would greatly benefit from these breakfasts!  It turned out that we'd get special breakfasts not only for our birthdays, but also our anniversaries, Mothers and Fathers Day!  It was a way to make each person feel very special, and I don't mind anyone borrowing the idea!

Birthdays were a big deal at our house, as you can see by the loaves and fishes story I posted earlier about Ed's over the top birthday celebration.  On his 40th birthday, it was a little tamed down, but I had 40 wooden crows put out by the mill he managed, as well as a surprise supper with many guests and fireworks later.  I remember my 40th well, sitting by Ed's bedside while he agonized with the pain of kidney stones.  When it was all said and done, I mentioned that he could have timed it a little better, as though he had a choice!

Every year when our kids were growing, I would try to determine what would be a suitable type of cake or theme for them.  We made cakes shaped like a train, car, merry go round, doll, butterfly, soccer ball, guitar and the list could go on and on.  It was fun.  We had many different themes. One year, Jenna's birthday was a fashion show, complete with dresses, hats, make-up and jewelry.  It was lots of fun to watch, while several Moms cheered and clapped.

That particular birthday, one of the girls who was invited had been especially mean to others in the school, and Jenna was quite afraid of her.  As we had talked prior to her birthday, Jenna decided to invite her rather than exclude just one of the girls in her class.  This girl was from a broken home, and likely was used to seeing alot of violence.  At Jenna's party, this girl remarked to me that her birthday was a week later, but her Mom couldn't afford a party for her.  My heart went out to her, so I made a special cake for her, complete with presents and a few others from her class, and we showed up on her door step on the appropriate day.  It was so much fun to see her giggle and blow out her candles on the door step while we sang the birthday song to her.  She did end up celebrating her birthday after all and we were all invited in to have fun.

Another time at our home, Ed and I dressed up as waiter and waitress in a fancy restaurant, had the table set with china and crystal, and special menus made.  This was a dress up affair, so the young girls were all dolled up ahead of time.  Ed was a master mind at making special treasure hunts.  Once, after a half hour of searching everywhere imaginable including the chicken coop, the rock pile way out in the field, the base ball diamond, finally the girls found the treasure!  It was a small empty box with a picture of Ed cuddling Jenna as a baby!  Actually, they just had to look up to find a hanging bag laden with all kinds of treasures, mostly sweets!

Paint ball wars, games, floor hockey, and many other adventures were a part of Michael's birthdays.   Breanna's birthdays during the summer provided her friends fun times at the lake, tubing and swimming.  We often tried to celebrate before school was out for the summer holidays, otherwise many of her friends would be away on holidays.  Slip and slides were always a great hit for everyone.

The last birthday Jenna spent at home before she left for England, we planned a special event.  It was an East Indian feast, complete with music and food.  Our family, along with East Indian friends dressed up in the traditional saris, moondos and lungis.  When each of the guests arrived, it was fun for Jenna to put sandle wood paste on their forehead.  It was even more fun to watch the bewildered expressions of each guest that we caught on video! 

During the two years that I catered for seniors and planned activities for them, I had birthday celebrations on Fridays.  The one hundred plus seniors lived in four buildings, so there was a birthday of the month which rotated between the buildings.  Special entertainers would delight the seniors for the parties.  Musical families were some of the favorites, choirs and instrumentals provided joy as well.  It was a good chance for young budding musicians to practise being in front of others, prior to making their appearances at the local music festival. 

Once, I was surprised to find out that the birthday party I organized was the first ever experienced by that person.  That was the case with Suzanne.  She had an unbelievably difficult life.  Her description brought me to tears.  As a young child, she was told by her Mother and Grandmother that they both hated her.  Her Mother even brought men home who would sexually abuse her.  She never remembers getting a present, either for Christmas or for her birthday.  Her first child was born when she was just twelve.  Her next baby was beaten and had thirteen broken bones by her boyfriend, and they both ended up in jail.  Altogether, she had five babies taken away at birth.  She ended up living on the street, and both arms had many scars where she'd tried to take her life.  Finally there was hope in her life when a Christian lady picked her up off the street, showed her love, and brought her into her home.  She became a believer, but she still had a long way to go in her life.  Her desire was to go to Bible School in Vancouver, and have counselling to help her further heal the many emotional scars she carried.  So on her 25th birthday I threw a surprise party, invited all the ladies at church, and gave her money for Bible School.  We later drove her to Vancouver to start school.  It is amazing what God can do, even in a life so broken and full of despair.

Following my transplant, I was called by a young woman who was desperate.  She was afraid of being alone, afraid of what she might do.  I offered to pick her and her children up, and brought them to my house.  While her kids played, we talked.  She had been suffering for a decade with depression, and it was worsening.  She had been planning on taking her life that day, and it was her 30th birthday.  The wheels started turning in my mind.  I asked her if we could go for a drive with her kids, so off we went.  After asking permission to take her kids into a store, we went in and they picked out some presents for their Mom, and I found a nice birthday cake for her.  We went back home and celebrated her life, and I expressed how thankful I was that she had called me.   Finally she said she felt OK to go home, and we kept in touch.

Birthdays are a reminder of the day each of us was brought into this world.  It reminds us that we have a Creator who loves each of us and has a good purpose and plan for us.  "Your hands have made me and fashioned me" Ps 119:73 and "For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.  In those days when your pray, I will listen.  If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me." Jeremiah 29:11-13   These are good promises from the Lord, and I look forward to as many birthdays as the Lord wills me to have.   

The miracle of a new liver and a new chance at life! (Jenna)

February 16^th, 2002

On Saturday our family had to meet with the social worker, and I think each of us kids had to meet individually with her. She asked us all kinds of questions about Mom. I felt like I was pleading for Mom’s life, trying to convince her of Mom’s character, to show her that she deserved a second chance at life. It all felt so surreal.

The decision came an hour later. Mom was on the transplant list. Praise God. Apparently our pleading for her life had worked. She was at the highest priority level possible… a 4F. They told us that even at this priority level, it would be an average wait time of two weeks to find a liver that would match her properly by blood type, weight and sex. The problem was, she didn’t have that long to wait. They would only give her 48 hours on the transplant list before they would take her off because she would likely have too much brain damage after that.

Dad and I went back to my dorm room to sleep. We felt we had done all we could do and needed rest for whatever lay ahead. We talked a bit, prayed a bit, and were both just about to go to sleep when the phone rang. It was Pastor Tom. He was at the hospital and had just gotten word that there was a liver for her! A match! Unbelievable! It had only been 4 hours since she got on the transplant list. We were overwhelmed with the knowledge of God’s faithfulness and love.

I opened my Bible, and my eyes fixed on a passage in Isaiah 54:7-8. I could hardly believe my eyes. It read…

“‘For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with deep compassion I will bring you back. In a surge of anger I hid my face from you for a moment, but with everlasting kindness I will have compassion on you,’ says the Lord your Redeemer.”

I felt in my heart that this was a promise for Mom from God. It had felt like God had abandoned her for a while, but He would have compassion on her. I felt a sense of peace that no matter what happened, God would have compassion on her, and I had hope that either she would be restored to life or I would see her in heaven someday. We thanked God, again overwhelmed by His goodness, and after making a few calls, prepared to sleep. The surgery wouldn’t start for another 6-8 hours or more because the liver had to be carefully removed from the donor and flown to Edmonton from Montreal. We wanted to be ready for an all-night prayer vigil.

After a peaceful sleep for the first time in days, our family gathered in the waiting room of the ICU. I think we basically took over the entire room! We prayed and prayed. Even with the hope of the liver transplant, there was only a 50% chance that it would work at this point because she was so sick. Still so many hurdles. Even if it worked and she woke up, she might be left in a vegetative state forever.

The surgery took 12 hours. Sometime in the morning, Mom was wheeled down the hallway in her bed and returned to her room in ICU. We breathed a collective sigh of relief. The surgery was over. She had made it through. Now we again just had to wait and pray.

At one point, I remember walking with Dad somewhere down the halls of the hospital and telling him that if Mom didn’t make it, I’d quit school and come home and take care of him and Michael and Breanna. He adamantly refused saying that I had to keep going, had to keep living my life, that God would take care of all of us. I couldn’t believe the pillar of strength that Dad was for me and so many others, when he was the one who was suffering the most of all.

We are so thankful for many things…

·      Thankful that Mom came back to town instead of camping out in the van in a deserted farmyard.

·      Thankful that she told Dad the truth.

·      Thankful for the good medical system.

·      Thankful for the doctor in Saskatoon who transferred her to Edmonton.

·      Thankful for the team in Edmonton who believed in her enough to put her on the transplant list.

·      Thankful for the support from family and friends the world over.

·      Thankful for the prayers of hundreds or thousands of people.

·      Thankful that we live in this time where transplantation is a possibility.

·      Thankful for that woman and her family from Eastern Canada who decided to donate her organs, which gave Mom another chance at life.

·      Thankful for the people of Meadow Lake Alliance who had a 24-hour prayer vigil for Mom.

·      Thankful to God for His love, care, faithfulness, provision, kindness, compassion. All of this is because of God’s goodness. He is good. His love is unfailing and never-ending. May He always be glorified because of this.

Insurmountable obstacles, yet flickers of hope... (Jenna)

February 14^th, 2002

The next morning on Valentine’s Day, Mom was different. Her mental state was noticeably fuzzier. I fought against the thought that I might never have an intelligible conversation with her again, praying that it would be different. We were told that her liver enzymes had climbed so high that it was likely her only hope was a liver transplant. The liver is an amazing organ. It can come back and repair itself after suffering incredible damage. If the liver enzymes peaked and started to come down, then her liver would likely repair itself and be completely fine. If however the enzymes continued to climb, her liver would be destroyed completely. The enzymes were already 300 times the normal level.

The doctors were looking for possible solutions. Saskatoon does not perform liver transplants, so if that was the route we had to go, the only hope was to get her somewhere that did. Vancouver and Edmonton were the only places in western Canada. So, the doctors tried to transfer Mom to Edmonton, but there were no beds available. We were told Vancouver wouldn’t do transplants for someone who had attempted suicide. We were running out of options.

The doctor then made a decision that provided a way. He put her in ICU, even though she didn’t really need to be there yet, because then he could transfer her to the University of Alberta hospital in Edmonton. He told us there is a rule that hospitals could not refuse an ICU-to-ICU transfer, and he knew that if he waited until she needed ICU, she would be too unstable to transport. Praise God. Soon Mom was on an air ambulance to Edmonton, and the rest of us were driving there through the night with our good friend Wanda Groenewegen at the wheel.

February 15^th, 2002

We got to the U of A Emergency at around 2 am on Friday, February 15th. Mom was there, but we couldn’t see her yet. We camped out at the 24-hour Tim Horton’s across the street, exhausted, praying, waiting for morning or some news. Mom was finally in the place where she could receive the help she needed, but the battle was nowhere near over.

The next time I saw her, Mom was in ICU with tubes sticking out everywhere, machines beeping, and nurses monitoring her from a station that looked like an airplane cockpit. She was in a deep coma.

At this point her liver enzymes were at levels above 10,000… basically off the scale. Her INR (her blood value that measures her risk of bleeding) was about ten times normal, meaning that she could have very easily bled to death from a cut or minor trauma. They successfully reversed this state with blood products, but her liver was beyond hope. Her kidneys had also failed so she needed dialysis to clean her blood. All we could do was stand by her side, talking to her, praying for her.

Friday was full of meeting with doctors of all varieties and disciplines. There were the ICU doctors, the kidney doctors, the liver specialists, the internists,… I’m sure there were others. There was a wonderful chaplain who spent a lot of time with us.

Her only hope was transplantation, but there were still many hurdles to overcome to get there. She was not yet on the transplant list.

More and more people were showing up at the hospital… friends, family, pastors. We had so much support. I emailed Capernwray Bible school in England, where I had attended the year before to ask for prayer. Likely thousands of people around the world were praying.

I can’t even remember what happened over the next 24 hours, but the medical team told us straight up all of the challenges we were facing. First off, she had to make it onto the transplant list. Organs are valuable and scarce resources. People die waiting on transplant lists for years, so this decision would not be made lightly. We prayed and prayed.

The day my world fell apart (Jenna)

Jenna's story:

I got the call from Dad early on the morning of February 13^th, 2002. The world went still as he quickly relayed what had happened. I was stunned, bewildered, shocked, confused. Over the past month as I had talked with Mom on the phone, she had certainly not seemed herself. I knew she was depressed, and had tried to encourage her, but I had no idea it was this bad. This is the last thing in the world that I ever thought would happen.

As a side note, I later learned in a psychiatric nursing course that it is SO important to ask anyone you know who is depressed if they are suicidal or have a plan. It is shocking how many people are suicidal. Of course this all has to be done with compassion and grace, but please have that conversation… it is one of the most courageous and loving things you can do for someone struggling with depression. Back to the story…

The next few hours were a blur. I went to class and told my teacher what had happened, and that I needed to leave for Saskatoon immediately. She spoke with grace and compassion as she said not to worry about anything to do with school. Thankfully Reading Week was starting in just two days. I’m not even sure how I got there, but I found myself on a Greyhound bus bound for Saskatoon for the next 8 hours.

I didn’t have a cellphone or any way or contacting my family during the bus ride. All I could do was pray, read my Bible, and trust that Mom was in God’s hands. I tried not to think of it too much, because it was completely out of my hands. I think that was the longest bus trip of my life.

At the Royal University Hospital in Saskatoon, Dad took me to see Mom as she lay in a bed in a shared hospital room. People had been with her all day, but now it was evening and they were going home to bed. Michael and Breanna were at Grandma’s house.

Mom lay there, with no life in her eyes, not even sadness really… just dark circles around her eyes and hopelessness. It was hard to even talk with her. She barely responded, which is so uncharacteristic of her.

We got permission from the nursing staff for me to stay overnight with her in a cot beside her bed. I talked with Mom, prayed with her, read her scripture, and cried silent tears as I thought that these might be my last moments with her. The doctors had said she would slowly continue to slip into a coma over a period of hours. I didn’t know if she would even wake up in the morning.

I was so afraid for her spiritual state. I felt like there were so many unknowns with suicide. Could God forgive her for it? Was she truly sorry? Did the state of her heart at this very moment negate the life of faith she had lived? Was she even herself at all right now? I kept asking her if she was sorry, and reminding her of God’s grace and love that covers all our wrong-doings. If I was going to lose her, I wanted to be able to believe that I would see her in heaven someday. Before she was in a coma I wanted to talk and pray with her as much as possible, while also being careful to show her love and grace and not judgment. I wanted every moment to count.

She did say she was sorry, and prayed with me for God’s forgiveness, but all of it with that lifelessness behind her eyes, that deep hollow emptiness that just would not go away.

I don’t know if either Mom or I slept at all that night. It was fitful at best, with the beeping of machines, shuffling of nurse’s feet, lights streaming in the windows, and my own mind whirring with relentless thoughts. I kept touching her, kissing her and telling God how much I loved her, and could He please spare her??? I needed her, Dad needed her, Michael and Breanna needed her, the world still needed her. 

It has been 10 years today...

The morning of Feb 12, 2002 I attended the funeral of a wonderful lady who lost her battle with cancer.  The strange thing was, all I could think of was that I wanted to be her, resting and at peace finally.  It didn't seem like I could bear it any longer.

A couple of months earlier in December my life had been so exciting and fulfilling.  I remember thinking how great life was, that it probably couldn't get any better.  I was catering for seniors in four different homes in Meadow Lake, along with trying to balance providing them exercise and activities.  I was literally on the run with that job, with the kid's activities, and church events.  It wasn't an underestimation to say I was attempting to do more than twice what I should have been.  I planned bus tours for the seniors, had talent shows (practising skits and songs with them), took some of them shopping, and the list goes on describing my crazy busy life.  I loved it.  I also accompanied choirs, soloists, and tried to keep entertaining.  At Christmas, we had company, but I also worked many 12 1/2 hour shifts at the nursing home.  Then it came time for the New Year's Eve bash for young people at our church.  It seemed like there wasn't a lot of people coming out to help out with decorating and preparations so after my long shifts, I went to help.  I'm sure I was in a manic phase, but I was just expecting too much from myself.  If anyone ever asked me to help, or borrow, or do whatever, I'm not sure I ever said no.  I had almost 16 years of no depression, and I certainly wasn't expecting it to come back. 

My husband was having his challenges, that's for sure.  He was told he had to lay off a certain percentage of the workers, or the mill would close down.  This was heart wrenching for both of us, as several that were chosen to be laid off were our very close friends.  Neither one of us could hardly sleep over that.  Ed, besides being Mill Manager also was taking a Business Administration Course which demanded a lot of his time and energy.  He served on the Elder's Board, which had it's challenges as well.  We played on a worship team, I helped in various ways at the church.

I first noticed something wasn't right when I was planning the January monthly calendar for meals and activities for the seniors.  This was something that I just loved doing, coming up with fresh ideas that would bring joy to their lives.  I usually planned things that were very labour intensive.  But this time, I just stared at the sheet saying to myself, "I don't want to do this.  I can't do this".  This was strange, and definitely not me.  My sleep was very erratic, constantly waking up during troubled sleeps.  Right away, I went to see a doctor, knowing this was the beginning of depression.  I wanted to nip it in the bud.   My sister asked me to come and stay with her for a few days, thinking it would do me good to get away.  I asked for some time off, as going to work felt almost impossible.  I literally couldn't think of what to do next.  I loved preparing meals for many people, but now felt incapable of it.  It was the strangest thing.  So I was hopeful that with the medication and some rest at my sisters, I'd be fine.  While at my sisters, a sudden call came that Ed's father had passed away, and I knew I had to go right away.  Ed had so much on his plate already, and now this would be difficult for him and his sisters, but especially for his Mom.  So, off I drove. 

Following the funeral, I came back to Meadow Lake and revisited the same doctor.  I told him these meds weren't working for me, so he tripled my dose.  I'm not blaming him, because he didn't know me.  The medication I was on isn't used to treat bipolar disorder as it can cause suicidal thoughts. But I didn't know any of this.  That started the roller coaster.  It seemed like every day, I endured these horrible panic attacks, when everything in me was racing.  The rest of the days and nights all I could think about were ways to take my life.  I felt so ashamed of my thoughts, and was constantly asking God to forgive me, but I couldn't stop them.  "I could just drive in front of a moving train", or "I'll ride my bike in front of a logging truck" or "I'll jump off the bridge", and on and on went my thoughts.  My biggest problem was that I didn't know I was bipolar and wasn't educated about depression, so I thought it was all spiritual not physical.  When I really needed help, I withdrew and felt ashamed.  I didn't realise you could be on a wrong medication, but felt that my state showed that there was no hope for me.   I didn't even tell my husband how bad things were, because I felt he had more than enough to deal with at the time.  Several times, I had gone and asked for prayer which was a good thing to do, but as I said it wasn't as much of a spiritual problem as a physical disease that I had.  It is a hereditary illness, and now I know there is a lot of depression and bipolar in my family line.  Fortunately, our family has become much more educated and aware in the past ten years.

...Back to that day.  Following the funeral, I went to a drug store to look for valentine's cards for each of my family.  I then picked up a bottle of extra strength Tylenol and drove back to our house.  I carefully wrote on each card, expressing what a wonderful daughter or son each was.  I honestly felt their lives would be better without me.  My husband was so special, but I felt unworthy of him.  It's crazy to think that during those weeks, I thought of different Christian women who would make better wive than I could be.  My thinking was just so distorted, but I couldn't control anything.  This was following a few weeks of  sleeplessness, with awful thoughts churning in my mind.

Taking the bottle of Tylenol along, I drove past the mill to an abandoned farm.  I wrote a note to my family, asking them to forgive me for doing what I was about to do.  Then I began taking the Tylenol.  I felt almost like a robot, a lifeless empty shell.  Just taking one after another, counting up to 52.  Then I sat and waited.  After a while with not feeling any effects, I remembered that Breanna had asked me to pick her up after school.  So I drove back to town, found that she had already walked home, and just went and made supper as usual.  It all seemed so surreal. 

Then it hit me.  I started to throw up.  I went to bed, my family thinking I had the flu and just kept on throwing up.  In the evening Ed got ready to go to the Board of Elders meeting at the church.  I never said a thing about what I had done.  When he came home, I said I didn't want to keep him awake, so I slept in Jenna's room, as she was now at the U of A in nursing.  I guess I thought maybe I wouldn't wake up in the morning. 

Before he left for work, Ed popped in to check on me and kiss me good bye.  He looked into my eyes and said, "What is wrong with you?  Somethings wrong with you!"  I saw panic in his eyes.  Starting to cry, I told him about taking all the Tylenol.  His eyes were literally wild with fear.  He wrapped my robe around me, and helped me to the car as quickly as possible.  I was definitely feeling dizzy and strange.  He sped to the hospital, and from there things started happening fast.  Immediately, my blood was taken and within a very short time, I was put into an ambulance and taken to the airport, where my journey continued by air ambulence to Saskatoon hospital.  I remember thinking, "Is this really happening, or is it a dream?"  Little did I know the fight for my life that was about to ensue.  Countless people began praying, and many medical personal worked tirelessly.  The next couple of days, I was in and out of consciousness, and then drifted into a coma for some weeks.  I have asked my daughter Jenna to share some of her recollections during that time. 

How can I ever adequately thank those people who prayed?  I was so humbled later to find out that during this time, a 24 hour prayer vigil was taking place at my home church, Meadow Lake Alliance.  Those people were literally fighting for my life with their prayers.  As you will hear, many doctors were involved in my rescue.  My family was amazing.  My brother Jonathan even came from Spain to see me!  I distinctly remember hearing his voice, even while I was in a coma!  I can't believe how difficult this is to write about. 

My hope and prayer is that if someone out there needs some support, I'd love to be there for you.  Over the ten years, I have met and talked with many who have tried to take their lives, or who are thinking about it. I started a support group with others who were struggling.  I've picked people up who were afraid to be alone, scared of what they might do to themselves.  Depression is as common as getting a cold!  There is help.   Life will get better, don't give up.  Find a trusted friend to be your confident, and be honest with your feelings and thoughts, you definitely aren't alone. 

My Loaves and Fishes story

Each day that went by, things were improving.  Inside a dim candle was lit, and day by day the light grew brighter.  I thought of the people who had prayed for me over the past months, and those who had tried to help.  Because it was getting close to Valentine's Day, I decided to thank everyone by making and delivering a heart cake to them.  If I'm remembering correctly, I made 35 cakes.  I wrote and printed out a letter, telling how God was working in my life. 

A couple of weeks before Easter, an idea popped into my head.  All these years Ed had been a student, and whenever I had suggested having company, his usual reply was "I'm busy studying".  His 29th birthday was on Good Friday, and I thought, "He has a good job now, he's finished studying, so I'll put on a surprise birthday for him".  It sounded like lots of fun, I loved surprising people.  I began making a list and phoned people.  I phoned and invited all our relatives who lived at the coast.  Then I started phoning our tree planting friends.  No need to stop there, I phoned church friends, then I really got carried away.  I phoned people from Trinity Western (even the President Dr. Snyder and his wife).  Did I tell you I was manic?   I even got names of his old drinking buddies from high school and called them!  I thought it was lots of fun, and I was doing something great for my husband, but actually I wasn't well!  There were at least 150 people who were invited, I told each of them I would feed them lunch and they weren't to bring any food or gifts.  After all the phoning was done, I asked Ed for money, as I wanted to go grocery shopping.  His reply, word for word was, "There is no money in the bank, and there is four dollars and a few cents up on the dresser".  I pretended not to be alarmed, and inside I prayed, "Lord you can still do that loaves and fishes thing, can't you?"    I went my way, and started thinking about what I could make with what I had in the pantry and freezer, and what I needed as absolute necessities.  It came down to yeast and eggs.

The next day, I drove over to Ed's parents place, and asked if Grandpa could watch the kids for a bit while I went grocery shopping.  I was determined not to tell anyone but the Lord of my predicament.  It was a time to trust.  Out of the blue, Ed's Dad said, "We've got a bunch of eggs that are cracked.  Do you need some eggs for baking?"  I could have jumped with joy!  Could I?  I thanked Dad and was on my way.  That night I began to bake.  Since Ed was such a super story teller, I asked him to put them to bed, and he'd usually end up falling asleep before they did, and so I would bake all night.  I did this for several nights, and each morning when Ed went into the shower, I would drive over to his parent's place and put the baking in the freezer.  Two days before his birthday, he got a pay check and I spent about $35. on everything else I needed.  It seemed that everything I needed was on sale, and I made a gourmet meal.  My friend Sandy phoned and said the Lord told her to give me a sockeye salmon for Ed's birthday.  I tried to refuse, but she insisted.  I had baked many loaves, and now here was the fish.  I saw it as my miracle meal, as the Lord was providing.

The day before Ed's birthday, I was going to prepare the main course.  My friend Mary offered to help me, and we planned to make the food in the basement suite where we used to live.  She brought her two boys over, while she did a couple things.  Minutes later, Mary called very distraught.  "My Mom just passed away,"  she cried.  I told her not to worry about the boys, that I'd watch them while she got prepared to fly home.  So instead of cooking like I planning to, I took care of 4 young children.  Later, I went and spent some time with Mary, as she talked about her Mom.  I asked her if they were flying out that day, if I could take all the food and prepare it at her house.  So I made an excuse to Ed that I needed to do some cleaning for Mary, but instead made quite a mess!  (I cleaned later).  The salmon was done in brioche dough with a stuffing of wine and mushrooms.  I made a number of special dishes that had cream cheese or sour cream in them, and have to admit it was a delicious meal.  Because Ed has so many different interests, I made three shaped cakes for him;  a guitar, soccer ball and a typewriter. 

I had stayed up all night every night for at least a week.  The morning of Ed's birthday, he got up and said he was going golfing with his brother in laws.  I hurried and tried to make the place presentable, and had trusted the Lord for a nice sunny day.  We had no furniture, except a bed and a crib so I borrowed lawn chairs from several people.  About 80 people attended his birthday, and turned pretty red when he got back from golfing.  He said, "Is there anyone you didn't invite?" He looked pretty embarrassed to have all this attention.  That night when it was all over, I couldn't sleep.   I got up and sewed Jenna an Easter dress for church.  On Easter Sunday, I took the leftovers to church and fed at least another 50 people.  Besides that, I gave lots of food away to people.  It truly was a loaves and fishes miracle! 

During this time, I had been meditating a lot on Proverbs 31 (the wonder woman of the Bible).  Often when I read scripture, I would pray and ask the Lord to make me more like what I was reading.  The Proverbs woman seemed like super woman and  quite unattainable!  How could one woman do all these things, except that she had servant girls.  Something that really impressed me about this godly woman was her relationship with her husband.  It says, "She is worth far more than rubies.  Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value.  She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life...Her husband is respected...Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her."  I sensed that this godly woman in Proverbs was totally supportive of her husband, that he could trust her completely.  I asked God to forgive me for trying to make Ed more spiritual, to get him to pray more with me.  I realised I was trying to do the Holy Spirit's work, which only He could do.  My job was to honour, love, support and encourage Ed; to be his cheer leader in a sense.  I asked God to help me, to change me to be the wife He wanted me to be for my husband.  It is my firm belief that a good marriage starts when two people accept one another and don't try and change each other.  That is God's work.  Over the years a good marriage, with a lot of forgiveness and hard work can become a great marriage.  I believe God has blessed us with a wonderful marriage, and I'm thankful He cared enough to show me early on where I was going wrong, and corrected me so that He could build our marriage to His glory and honour. 

As I continued to meditate on Proverbs 31, another idea was forming.  This was a perfect business idea!  This industrious woman was able to care for the needs of her family, as well as making and selling her wares.  There are so many great ideas in God's Word.  I first told Ed ab out my ideas.  He was OK with it, as long as the Lord was leading me to do this.  We didn't have any money to spare, but I wondered if I could get a small business loan from the government, as there was a job creation aspect to my idea.  I made an appointment to see Elwood Veitch, a Christian small business MLA and also right hand man to the Premier.  I presented my ideas to him, he thought they were great, but didn't think I would want the government involved, as I only needed $6,000. for start up costs.  He agreed to be the guest speaker at the opening of my store.  I met with Neil Snyder, the President of Trinity Western University, to see what he thought.   He thought it could work well, but cautioned me to start with some, but not all my ideas.  Lando, the owner of a successful Christian book store in Abbotsford was very encouraging as I shared my ideas with him.  He even offered to place best selling Christian books, Bibles and music, along with the shelves to display them in my store.  I talked to another successful Christian businessman, Ivan Visser who was also encouraging.  Besides having a food importing business, he also began an orphanage in the Philippines.   Also encouraging me on was Geoffrey Still, Canadian President of Focus on the Family and Peggy Sharpe, President of Real Women Canada.   The Bible says there is wisdom in many counsellors, and now I had the courage to step out in faith.

My business was called "Wendy's Homemade Treasures".  I contacted the Pastors of 50 churches in the Vancouver/Burnaby area and shared my ideas with them.  I was amazed that every one of them were in favour, and willing to promote my business in their church.  Wow, I thought, this idea must be from God.  Over the next months, there were 136 artisans who brought their items for me to sell.  The set the price, 10% of the selling price went to missions (needy children in the Philippines), and I added a mark up of 10 to 30%.  The store was opened Monday through Saturday, 9:30 am was prayer time,  10-5 pm the store hours.  Most days there were free demonstrations.  Some of them included Norwegian rose malling, folk art, knitting, crocheting tatting, hand crafting silver jewelry, cake decorating, bread making, and the list goes on.  There were at least 70 different types of demonstrations.  Many who brought their crafts on consignment, also demonstrated how to make them.  This idea came from scripture which says, "The older women should teach the younger women".   Many of the younger generation don't seem to know the skills of their grandparents generation, so I called these demonstrations 'homemaking skills'.  I hired a babysitter to watch children while their Moms enjoyed the free demos.  The coffee and tea, plus goodies I made fresh each morning were free.  They also didn't have to pay for the babysitting.  Business was gaining momentum as people told others about the store.  A furniture builder in our church was so gracious as to build my store furnishings at his cost.  He made several pine shelves and a matching demonstration table, plus a two storey kid's playhouse, with a picket fence surrounding the kid's area.  Jenna and Michael were there with me 5 days of the week. 

We held a grand opening for the store, more like a dedication of it to the Lord.  As the local MLA got tied up with other business, Geoffry Still came instead.  Peggy Sharp from Real Women shared.  Three amazing musicians sang; Mary Rush, Crystal Hicks and Alan Moberg.  One of our pastors, Bruce Robertson spoke and prayed , and finally I shared about my vision.  It was an exciting day.

Some excellent opportunities presented to promote the business.  A local radio station interviewed me for about 30 minutes.  A reporter from the Christian Info newspaper came and interviewed me, and wrote a nice article about the business.  Later, she sent me an article from a Christian paper in Winnipeg which was called "Women of Faith".  It was about pastor's wives in general, then talked about Mother Theresa, an then about me!  What a shock, to be in the same article with Mother Theresa!  The author obviously didn't know me!   Before Christmas, I approached Burnaby Cable TV, and they agreed to make a one hour TV special in my store.  A number of women came and demonstrated how to make Christmas items, and then I told at the end of the program how this idea came from the Bible.  I had no business background, so was glad I could glean some wisdom from the Word.

There were things about the business that Ed wasn't too comfortable with.  One young man had recently gotten out of jail, and was my daily visitor, enjoying the free coffee and goodies.  He seemed harmless and like he really needed a friend.  One day I got robbed by two young men, probably 16-18 years old.  One of them asked me about a Bible, and I was excited to be sharing with him about the various versions we had.   The only problem was at the same time his buddy took the money.  I discovered the money was gone when I went to make change for the next customer.  Then I noticed the beautiful silver bracelets by the till were also gone.  That's when I started to cry!  I called the police, but later found that my son had been playing around the desk, and had hidden the bracelets under the display case.  I was very thankful, what a relief!  I called the police back, as they didn't need to come, as I couldn't get money replaced anyway!  Another time, I shared with a woman into Eastern mysticism and trusted that the seed that was sown in her heart might some day bear good fruit. 

By Christmas, we found out that we were expecting another baby.  Ed said it was enough to be potty training Michael in the store, but he wouldn't allow me to nurse a baby in the store.  I began talking to various people about selling the business, and there were seven people interested.  My volunteer accountant thought I'd be making money by the end of the first year of business, as it was growing well.  Susan, a registered nurse said she'd like to continue the ministry.  She flew to California where she owned property and she was going to take out a small loan.  Months went by and I never heard from her, so just ended up closing the store.  I found out much later that she had broken her foot and stayed there to recuperate.  Sadly, I informed 136 that they needed to pick up their merchandise.  Now I had a small loan to pay back, so I started selling Avon and babysitting again.  Not long after the store closed, Ed got a job in Whitecourt, Alberta so it was a good thing that we had everything cleared up. 

And so my life seemed to go; from extreme lows to the wonderful highs.  It seemed that on either end of the pendulum, sleep was rare.  During the lows, my mind wouldn't stop thinking negatively about myself.  Conversely in the manic periods, my mind raced with ideas and excitement.  I started so many projects that never got completed, I felt sometimes I was going in circles.  A multi-tasker to the max, to put it mildly. It was impossible for my body to keep up with all the flood of thoughts and plans my mind came up with.  Talking incessantly was also a trade mark of being manic, and there were times people would simply walk away from me.  They probably thought I'd never stop!  On the other hand during a depression, I would be very quiet and seemed to have nothing to say to anyone.  It's a very strange illness, and my personality seemed to completely change.  I don't know if my husband has figured me out yet!

Post Partum

Just before midnight on Thanksgiving Monday 1985, we welcomed our son. He was the first grandson for the Wilbert Roste clan, following nine grand-daughters.  We joked about how we had our baseball team of girls, so now we could start on the boy's team. We didn't quite make a complete team, but each of the four families eventually had one son.
I should have been the happiest woman alive, I kept saying to myself. I had a very good man, a sweet daughter, and now a healthy boy. What more could I want?

Ed was nearing the end of his long road being a student. Following high school, he had worked to save up for two years of Bible School.  He worked again, and then attended three years of pre-med, with plans to become a missionary doctor. He succeeded at having the top marks in the Science department at Trinity Western University.  During those years, we were married and I worked in the Presidents Office at Trinity Western until just before our first daughter Jenna was born.  Ed worked hard in the summers to provide for our family, with jobs as a playground supervisor, painter and tree planter. For his fourth year he transferred to UBC, and then started to rethink his career path.  With children to support, he wanted to be not only a good provider, but also a great father to them.  He decided to attend BCIT, a technical school where he took a course as a laboratory technologist.  Just before the last year, he was offered a scholarship for the pulp and paper division, so he decided to go that route. 

We were still living in the basement of my husband's parents home in Burnaby. I couldn't have wished for better in laws. Jenna loved crawling up the stairs to see her grandparents, and they seemed thrilled to have her come up for a visit. They were very supportive, hard working people.  A few weeks following my son's birth, my mood started to change.  A sense of sadness came, along with thoughts of failure.  My thoughts of being an inadequate mother seemed to make sense to me, and one thought would lead to another, bringing me deeper and darker into a pit my mind was creating.  I didn't argue with these 'thoughts' that were circling in my head, in fact....they continued to increase over days, weeks and months.  With this increased mental anguish, came a decrease in appetite and more troubled sleep.  Over time, sleep seemed almost impossible.  Thankfully, I had a baby to nurse and change, so I kept going.  I couldn't believe that my life was reduced to this, and to do any housework seemed almost an impossibility. I lost a lot of weight. The life and joy was being completely drained out of me.  It seemed as though my mind was my enemy, constantly accusing me of being unable to love my family properly or even do the bare essentials. 

Because I admired my Mother in law, I was afraid to let her see who I really was.  I didn't want her to know what a poor wife I was for her son, or how inadequate I felt as a mother.  Rather than drawing on those who loved me for strength and help, I wanted to hide away from everyone.  It seemed as though Ed and I were drifting apart as well.  He was working so hard to study and provide us a future, and I didn't want to bring him down.  He tried hard to encourage me when he found me crying day after day, but it seemed to no avail.  I would just end up feeling more hopeless, and after many months of my symptoms worsening, I honestly felt my husband and children would be so much happier without me.  During this time, I never went for counselling or to the doctor, because I didn't think we could afford any of it.  We were barely scraping by, able to buy only the essentials.  We cut costs wherever we could, using cloth diapers, freezing and canning fruits and vegetables in the summer when the prices were the most reasonable, and making homemade presents for our children. For clothing, we shopped at rummage sales and I sewed some of Jenna's dresses for her. We learned valuable lessons about frugality in those years.

I hoped that I would eventually get back to normal, but it wasn't happening.  Random people at our church in Burnaby would come up to me and ask if they could pray for me.  Even though I felt a lot of shame, I was also very thankful that others were reaching out to me.  Unfortunately, nothing seemed to really change.  Because of this I would end up feeling more hopeless.  It really worried me that my kids were going to be affected by my state of mind.  I began having crazy thoughts, like throwing my baby off the sundeck, and I felt terrified and ashamed.  I hated myself and who I was becoming!  I tried to listen to scripture, but it seemed like I just felt more condemned.  What had been the source of joy, comfort and instruction now seemed to be like my enemy!  I became more hopeless, thinking even God couldn't help me.  As my symptoms worsened and I couldn't sleep anymore, I began having thoughts of ending my life.  I thought life could be much happier for my family if they didn't have to see me crying every day, sad all the time, feeling like I was empty and couldn't love anymore.  One day after fourteen months of spiralling downward, I grabbed some random pills and took 3 or 4.  Inwardly, I knew that probably wouldn't hurt me, but I think I was crying out for help, wanting to be released from the prison of my mind.  I acknowledge to Ed what I had done, took some Ipecac syrup, and went to see the doctor.

Thankfully, Dr. John was a Christian, and a very understanding one at that.  He had delivered Michael, and had instantly held him up and prayed God's blessing on his life, and then had Ed cut the cord.  Now Michael was around 16 months old, and had been a very content and happy baby.  Dr. John put me on medication, and recommended counselling simultaneously.  It was a wonderful gift to be able to go for counselling and medical help in our church building. Burnaby Christian Fellowship was an amazing church, with Pastors from a variety of denominational backgrounds.  The Counselling Group was and still is very effective in helping hurting people.  They had support groups for all kinds of issues, including women who had suffered physical and sexual abuse, and people who struggled with sexual sins.  I was so thankful to be able to meet with Carol, who was non judgemental and a very good listener.  It seemed that for the first few sessions, all I did was cry.  Eventually though, through taking the anti-depressants, getting counselling, and talking to one of our pastors, Robert Birch, my mood started to rise.  It felt like I was coming alive again. 

What I didn't realise was that as this swing upward was taking place, I wasn't just going back to normal, I was going from a severe low to a manic state.  In the next post, I will try to describe what my high was like.  It felt so wonderful to be up there, and it felt like I was close to God again.