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.

Holy Ground

Today I had a flashback, as I drove down Boundary Road.

With a huge grin on his face, 18 month old Michael was running as fast as his little legs would carry him.  Right into the heavy traffic..... 

It was Spring 1987.  I had recently recovered from a 14 month long depression, which had begun as postpartum a couple of months after my son was born.  But that's another story. Now I was back to my old self, full of energy, and our little family had finally left the 'nest' and moved a few blocks down Rumble Street, just into Vancouver. 

Earlier that day, Grandpa Roste had walked over to visit his grandkids.  Our family had lived in his basement suite during the time that my husband was a student, or for the first five years of our marriage.  To Jenna and Michael, their grandparents were just like 'second parents', as they saw them every day.   What fun they had playing hide and seek or watching the big airplanes fly into the Vancouver Airport. 

Now in a low cost housing development, we were surrounded by families with young children.  Ed had built a playhouse in our back yard, so that seemed to be an extra attraction for the neighbourhood children.  For whatever reason, the little kids would start coming early in the day, and I'd be constantly checking to see if the front gate was closed.  Michael, now 18 months didn't have a clue what danger was.  The constant 'battle scars' he had from running and tripping showed his lack of fear.  He was a happy go lucky, sturdy guy, curious about each bug he saw, he was our little explorer.   When I tried keeping him in the house, he would scream and cry to be outside playing in our tiny yard. That day, I had just checked, but felt an urgency to check again a couple of minutes later.  As I opened the door, I instantly froze.  I was stunned to see the gate open.  "Shut the gate!", I yelled again, then "Where is Michael"?  One kid replied, "Michael's here"  But he was gone!  With my heart in my throat I frantically called, "Michael, where are you?"  I started running, with 4 year old Jenna trying hard to catch up.  She said, "Dear Jesus, send an angel to watch Michael", as I choked out, "Yes Lord!"  We ran in one of the many directions he could have gone, but saw nothing.  The adrenalin was pumping and I starting running in a new direction.  Everyone I saw I yelled at, "Did you see a little blond boy?"  I must have looked like a mad women, running, arms flailing, barely able to catch my breath.  I had to keep going, my son's life was in the balance.  I stopped long enough to frantically call Mary, gasping, "Michael lost... come... pray," I kept running.   What seemed like an eternity, running, running.  I saw two men sitting on the curb having their lunch, "Did you see a little blond boy?", I gasped.  One of them pointed, saying, "A woman was carrying a little blond boy, going to call the police".  My hope was renewed as I ran.  I didn't even knock but just burst in, and blurted out, "Where did you find him?", as I ran to cradle my son up in my arms.  With a disgusted look, the lady stated matter-of-factly, "He was running across Boundary Road with a big smile on his face".  I lost it!  I completely broke down!  With deep gut-wrenching sobs, I clung onto my precious son, realising that my one and only son was just seconds from being run over!  I was so out of control, that I couldn't possibly even choke out "Thank you" to the person who had saved the life of my dear sweet son.  Even now, thinking about this moment in time causes me to tremble.  I hope and trust that she knew how much I appreciated her.  Or was it an angel who intervened?  How was it that this woman in the moving traffic threw on her brakes in a split second when she saw a young toddler, then jump out of her car fast enough to rescue my son from certain death?  And how did she sense to drive the 2 blocks into my townhouse complex to use someones phone?  Was it an answer to Jenna's prayer, "Dear Jesus, please send an angel to watch over Michael?"  I am still so thankful when I think of the close call, and I like to think of it as an Angel's Intervention!  Little did I know that I would need more angels to be watching over my son.  Did I mention that I went grey really young?

Every night for the next week, I woke up in the middle of the same nightmare as my little Michael was being crushed under a big truck!  "I just can't take it anymore", I finally cried to my husband, after waking him up again and again.  "Don't you have some holidays coming to you?"  "Could we get away for a few days and go see Matt and Joey in Hazelton?"  Ed checked it out with his workplace, MacMillan Bloedel Research Centre in Vancouver, and it was a go.  We could get away for a week!  I was so relieved!

Even during the drive up, I felt the tension begin to release..  I was starting to unwind from that traumatic event.  As we drove into Matt and Joey's place, it was so great to see them again.  We had shared many adventures together tree planting in northern BC and Alberta, but that's also another story!  It felt so good to be away from the city, away from the traffic!  But sleeping was another challenge, as we heard one mouse trap after another snap during the night.  Thankfully all 20 some traps were soon filled, so we could finally fall off into dreamland.

A couple of days into our visit, Joey's Dad called unexpectedly.  He was flying up from the States to have a weekend with them.  We knew it was important to give them time together, so I thought fast!  "I know", I said to Ed, "My friend Sylvia lives in Terrace!" Why don't I give her a call?"  I tried calling, but just got her answering machine, so we decided to head up there, even if it meant scraping the barrel to pay for a motel.  So, we said our goodbyes, and off we went!

We decided to just show up at their church, as Sylvia's husband was the pastor, we were quite sure they'd be there.  We were certainly surprised to find out that Sylvia had a 5 day old baby girl, so the timing wasn't really great for us to come for a visit.  Nevertheless, they invited us out for the afternoon to their cabin by the lake.  That sounded really nice, it would be great to catch up.  Sylvia and I had attended Bible School together a few years prior to this, and I knew it would be fun to have a visit.  We followed them out to the cabin.  The minute we arrived, I looked bewildered!  "Ed, we can't be here" I insisted, as I saw their cabin was built on a 30 foot cliff!  We were going from the 'frying pan into the fire'.  Ed tried to calm me down, saying we'd just stop for awhile, things would be fine.  I insisted to him that one of us had to hold Michael's hand at all times!  Just saying that, I knew it would be impossible, as Michael was on the go all the time.  So we cautiously entered in.

What made things worse, I realised, was that the sundeck didn't even have any railing up yet, it was still in the process of being built!  I motioned to Ed that it was his turn, and then sat down to see the new baby.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Michael right behind his Dad, and I yelled, "Hold his hand!"  Ed turned around, while Michael darted past him.  Even at that age, Michael was a tease.  He stood there, looking at his Dad, as he backed up.  Ed, seeing the danger, cautiously beckoned his son, "Come to Daddy, Michael".  Michael giggled and backed up further, and over he went!  I screamed, "Oh God!"  Ed leaped off the sundeck and found Michael flat on his back, too stunned to cry.  He had fallen about 9 feet onto rocks, so we literally grabbed him and we were gone.  I quickly mumbled our thanks, as we tore off to the nearest hospital.  By that time, Michael was crying hard.  We arrived at the hospital, and after being examined by the doctor on call, we were told to wake him up every hour, because he'd had a concussion.  Breathing a sigh, I stated, "I don't care what it looks like, we're getting a harness and wherever we go, Michael is going to be in it.  Even if we have to tie him to a tree!"

A few months later, I had to go to the bank for some urgent business to attend to. The reason I recall that particular trip, was Michael and a two year old girl I babysat had to come along. I held tightly on to each of them, insisting that they couldn't get away from me. Unfortunately, in order to sign the papers there meant that I had to let go momentarily to both toddler's hands. Of course that meant Michael took off like a flash, the little girl trying hard to keep up. When my yelling at them didn't make a difference, I quickly excused myself to the teller, and took off on the run. Wouldn't you know that just before I got to the elevator, they were on and the door closed. I was a fraction of a second too late, and my heart raced. "Oh Lord help me find them!" At the first opportunity, I jumped on the elevator, zoomed to the top floor....and systematically went down each floor, yelling "Did you see two little kids here?" This continued on down into the underground parking, of which I remember at least two levels. On P2, there they were running, laughing and chasing each other! I was beginning to wonder if I was an unfit Mother!

Just after our move to Whitecourt when Michael was 2 1/2, Ed and I took the kids to a playground there. It was only a couple of months until I would be having my third child, and I often wondered how I would keep track of Michael then. The kids had a blast, but when it was time to go, there was Michael teasing and running away. I didn't have the stamina to try and catch our little escape artist, so we decided if we began walking toward the car, maybe he'd decide to come. Grinning, he was in the middle of "I'm the King of the Castle, and you're the dirty rascal" and he either got off balance or he made a flying leap when we began to walk away. Either way, Michael fell off the top of the slide onto the sand below. Again, momentary stunned silence, and then a heart wrenching cry of pain. Ed ran, scooped him up into his arms, and off we flew to the emergency room. I watched, as before my eyes his leg became swollen. "Broken" was the word that came out of the doctor's mouth. The next thing he said almost made me laugh. He said, "make sure to keep his leg up on ice." I knew that to be a completely impossible task, but I would try! A couple of days later, we went to visit some new found friends, and you guessed it, Michael was trying to climb up their slide!
After a few days, I found it difficult to catch him, even with his leg in a cast!
Hide and go seek was one of our favourite games to play with the kids when they were little. Often they'd want to show where they were going to hide, or show us where to hide. Unfortunately, they clued in finally and got really good at it. When our family was shopping together, Michael would quickly dart under something, whether it was clothes hanging or any place he could squeeze in. We'd frantically call to see where he was, but of course he wouldn't answer, because in his mind, he was playing hide and seek with us. I worried that someone might grab him and run off sometime. My only consolation was that because he was such a handful, whoever took him would probably be wanting to return him pretty fast! I didn't want to take a chance though.  Once, Ed took Michael with him to a home improvement store. Michael got away. As Ed went searching all over, his search lead him through an open door into some manager's offices. Going from one office to another, he finally found Michael up on a desk, completely messing up someones paper work. Ed didn't stick around to see who was going to be upset!
One of the really foolish things I did was trying to shop in West Edmonton Mall with my three kids. I parked right next to the toy store that I needed to quickly dash into to get a gift for one of their imminent birthdays. I reasoned that we'd be in there for a few moments; how hard could it be? Breanna was getting fussy, I could tell she was ready for a nap, and as best I could I held Michael's hand, and told Jenna to hold onto my coat on the other side. Once I had purchased the gift, I was trying to hold my package, a baby, and keep track of two kids. I had strictly ordered both children to hold tightly onto my coat. Well, you guessed it. I turned to my left, and Michael had vanished! My mind raced; how could I find Michael here in the world's largest shopping mall?! Again, panic struck! Fortunately, the first sales clerk I saw told me to calm down, exactly where to walk to, and assured me that my lost child might already be there! Adrenaline rushing, I ran to the lost and found, and waited a few minutes to see my innocent looking son smiling at me, as if to say, "You couldn't find me, ha, ha!" Fortunately, since he has grown up, I haven't had to watch his cliff jumping (while summer-saulting), climbing mountain cliffs, bungee jumping off the second highest place in the world, hitting a huge boulder skiing a double black diamond run, and the list goes on. Let's just say that I'm thankful for guardian angels.

A new zest for life!

The new found freedom and joy I was experiencing was a huge contrast to the prior eight months.  I still walked to work, but inside felt like I was skipping.  It was exciting to be aware of His presence with me.  Jesus was my constant companion, and it was as though He was physically walking beside me.  Joy bubbled up inside, and I felt at times like I would burst with the happiness I felt.  It felt as though I was born again, again!

Dozens of times I had walked down the street in tears, but now I had a burning desire in my heart, "Lord, how can we reach these people that need you?"  It was as if then my eyes were opened.  There it was, standing empty and abandoned.  Prime real estate in down town Inuvik!  What had been a drug store now stood quiet, the windows boarded up.  The gracious Holy Spirit nudged me, "What a great place for a coffee house"!  The idea stuck in my head.  Why hadn't I noticed it before?  It was nestled amongst the busiest area of town, across from the main hub, the Bay.  It was where I bought expensive groceries, such as 'tri-milk', made to be mixed with water, and costly vegetables and fruit that were flown in.  It was also the place people hung out to visit besides the 3 local bars.   Drinking was definitely the drug of choice, and the most predominant activity in the north.  I hoped that might change!

This idea that was birthed in me to start a coffee house had to be shared.  First I got together with Wes, a student Pastor at the Pentecostal Church and Brenda, a young woman helping to start a Baptist Church there.  I could hardly contain myself when I met with them!  I shared my vision, which was only an idea at first.  Wes, Brenda and I prayed that if this was God's idea, He would make it happen.   As the days and nights wore on, ideas poured in as well as needed things to make it a reality.  It was so exciting to see God at work, and we were partnering with Him and saw Him do great things. 

First, I went to meet the owner of the building and asked him about renting this facility.  I wanted it to be a gathering place of people who could come have a coffee and visit. It would be an alternative to  meeting at the bars and getting drunk.  He liked the idea, and agreed to charge us just $10 a night, and we only had to pay for the nights of the week that we used it!  Truly a miracle in a place where rents were unbelievably high!  Wow, "God is so good" was my theme!  Little did I know that 3 weeks from the day the thought first entered my mind we would be opening the coffee house!  My next thought was we needed tables, so I went to one of the local bars, and asked if they might have older tables we could use!  And yes they did have them in storage, and yes we could use them for free!  But did they know we would be taking some of their business as well?  I was constantly asking God for His provision, as I truly believed it was His idea!  Another day, I was walking around town and talking to God, and I noticed a beautiful log government building that was in the process of being built.  As I came closer, I noticed many log ends that were laying around the building site.  A worker was up on the roof, so I started to climb the ladder towards him.  As I neared the top, I asked what was being done with those log ends.  I mentioned that some Christian friends and myself were starting a coffee house, and I thought those logs looked like they would work well as 'stools' around the tables we had.  He replied that the logs weren't being used, that if we could use them, we were welcome to them.  He said they may be kind of rough to sit on, but that wasn't a problem for God!  A business man down town had plenty of carpet samples to give us.  We just stapled carpet samples on one end of the logs, and voila!  Now we had bar tables, and plenty of seating!  The building needed some paint, so we began painting it with left over paint we were given.  Instead of the bare spots on the walls where shelves had been torn down, now there was lots of colour in the room.  While we were painting one day, a guy poked his head in the door and asked what we were doing.  I told him about the coffee house, and he offered to give us fabric.  We had been just told that we could have Christian films sent up to be shown at the coffee house at no charge to us!  The only problem we had faced was that the sun shone constantly during the summer, and it would be difficult to see the film with all that light.  So almost as soon as we recognised the problem we might have, God provided the solution!  This complete stranger offered enough fabric to cover all the windows in the place.  I set about sewing the curtains, with a machine that was lent to me. I finished them the day the coffee house opened!

There were many great musicians from various churches I knew so I suggested that we start a band to minister at the coffee houses.  Wes was a good guitar player, Brenda had a fabulous voice, and there were several others who joined.  I had purchased a piano that I had moved to the coffee house, so we could use it for our band.   God provided a stage through another stranger who enquired what we were doing.  He offered large cable 'spools' that were different sizes and heights, and they worked great for the drums, and various other musicians to stand on.  I had a fairly large Christian library which I turned into a lending library for anyone who wanted to borrow books.  We got a coffee urn, and we decided to have Adult evenings on Friday and Saturdays.  We had Christian films to show, a band to sing and play, and spirit-filled Christians from every denomination that were ready to show the love of Christ to those who came in the door.  Thursday evenings were for children, and we had puppet shows as well as drama and songs for them.  My friend Pam from CLBI had come to help cheer me up, and was excellent working with the children.  There was an amazing group of friends who loved the Lord and served others in the community.  It was such a privilege to know them.

One day, about mid way during this flurry of activity, I met William Bonnetplume.  He was an Aboriginal 31 year old man who stopped me one day outside my apartment complex.  "Could you give me money to buy a sandwich?" was his request.  I could tell he was coming off one of his drunken binges.  He was a very talented artist, and was known to paint skilfully, and then would go and get drunk after he sold one of his 'treasures'.  How sad and futile I thought, and replied, "William, you stay here, and I'll bring you back a sandwich and a glass of milk".  I knew better than to invite him to come into my place.  A few minutes later, I was back with his food, and suddenly felt very bold.  "William, can't you see that your life is going down hill?  God has given you talents, and you are wasting your life on booze.  Why don't you come to see Dr. Heine tomorrow, and he can help you with your alcohol problem."  The next day, I was astonished when William showed up at the clinic.  Dr. Heine saw him and admitted him into the hospital, so he could go through detox.  I went to see him in the hospital, and told him he was doing the right thing to get the help he needed.  He asked me if I would bring him some paints and canvases, so he'd have something to do in the hospital.  While he was there, he made quite a lot of money selling pictures to the doctors and nurses! 

When William got out, he came by the coffee house.  I  talked to him about what we were doing, and he seemed really interested in helping in some way.  He said he wanted to paint Jesus on the cross, but he wanted his people to identify with Jesus, so he wanted to make Jesus look like his people up there.  There were many Inuit or Eskimos, as well as Aboriginal or Indians.  I got him a sheet of plywood like he asked, and he painted a graphic picture of Jesus' suffering.  Others as well looked like they'd been beaten and suffered, as well as Jesus.  We hung the picture in a prominent place for everyone to see who entered the coffee house.   

As William was homeless most of the time, he told me one evening that he was going to sleep at the coffee house.  I told him I couldn't allow him to, as I was just renting the space and didn't have the authority to allow someone to stay there.   It was getting close to midnight (but bright and sunny!), and he refused to leave.  I begged and pleaded with him to listen, but he wouldn't!  Feeling rather foolish, I finally threatened to call the police, and he said, "Go ahead".  I really didn't have a choice, but I felt really dumb, as he had been helping me.  The police finally came, and helped me remove him.  I guess he just wanted to sleep in a good bed and have a decent meal (in jail)!  The police just took him to see if he could 'camp' at someones house!  William also used special paints and painted 'stained glass' windows there.  It was really beautiful. 

I distinctly remember the first coffee house night, as it was very exciting for me.  Our band was playing, and a drunk guy staggered in, and asked if he could sing something.  I was a little scared at what he might say or do, but Wes graciously handed his guitar to the drunk man, who proceeded to sing 'Amazing Grace'.  Thank God, he never ever cursed!  That night, two men came to know the Lord. One was a travelling dentist who came with others from the hospital to see what was happening.  I heard that he later went to Bible School.  It would be so interesting to hear where the Lord lead him in his life.  Every night that I recall,  there were people accepting the Lord.

One day, William and two of his buddies figured out where I lived.  I heard a knock on my door, and when I saw William and two very rough looking characters, I breathed a "God protect me" prayer.  We visited and sang choruses while one of the guys played guitar.  Later, a lady scolded me for allowing these guys in my place who had spent several years in jail.  One of them held a lady at knife point and I never heard what the other one was in jail for.  God was gracious and protected me.  I often joke about my verse, "The Lord preserves the simple", but it really was no joke that He has kept me safe all these years of taking chances!


Another person I met during this time was John, who had been a taxi driver.  I met him while visiting at the hospital.  John was one of the most miserable guys I have ever met.  He had suffered a debilitating stroke in his late twenties,  had been paralysed for some time, and been in hospital 3 years. He bragged about how he used to be a heavy drinker and womaniser.  I mentioned that God loved him.  That comment brought a string of curse words from him, and 'how can you say that, when there is so much suffering in the world, wars, natural disasters, etc'.   I decided that I wouldn't mention God again, unless there was an opportunity.  He seemed to be lonely, so I decided to keep coming to visit him.  One day, his comment took me completely by surprise.  "Can you help me? he begged, "I am afraid, and I think I'm going to die".  This wasn't what I was expecting from him!  He went on to talk about a dream he had the night before, about being in a dark place, and in the distance an angel telling him he couldn't come in.  He said, "I don't want to go to that dark place, can you help me!"  I told him that I could explain to him how he could go to heaven, if that's what he wanted.  He agreed, and seemed to be so desperate to know!  I found it almost hard to believe this was happening, but I shared the gospel with him, and he accepted Christ into his life.  Then rather than dying, he started getting better, and within a month, was out of the hospital, walking with a cane.  He came to church and Bible study, and it just blew me away how he could be the same man who was constantly cursing God and blaming Him for everything!  God is so good, and I was reminded that no one or nothing is too difficult for God.  I thought of Saul of Tarsus, killer of Christians became the apostle Paul, the greatest missionary and writer of much of the New Testament.  It renewed my faith in the ability of God to change anyone!

Earlier, I alluded to the fact that Dr. Heine didn't seem to be able to tolerate me too well when I was no longer depressed.  One day, he called me into his office and said, "Wendy, if you have anything more to do with the coffee house, I will have to fire you".  It was a shock, to say the least, but I agreed, wondering who would take over the 'reins'.  The next day, Wednesday was my only day off during the week, so I went to do some work at the coffee house.  I reasoned that it was my day off, so it should be OK.  The next morning, Cezar called me in and told me I was fired.  As I walked away, the song "Hallelujah, I am free.  Jesus came and He rescued me..." rang in my heart.  That evening, as I walked, my heart cried out to be more like Jesus.  I had just read the book, 'The Calvary Road' which talks about Jesus being like a worm willing to be crushed, and not like a snake which strikes back when He was wrongly accused.  I cried from the depths of my heart that I wanted to be a worm like Jesus, not a snake like the devil is.  I wanted to be dead to myself, my old nature so that I could truly be free in Christ.  After being fired, I was determined to try and be reconciled with Cezar, so I continued to go to church.  I also went to any fellowship gatherings I knew about, and I invited Cezar over for a nice supper.  It seemed that there was still a rift, and I wasn't sure why.  But God is so gracious.  More than a year later, following a car accident near Portage la Prairie, Manitoba we had a 'chance' meeting.  Believe me, I know it was arranged by God.  Because of my car accident, I had a couple of boxes still in Brandon, Manitoba where I'd been living.  Pastor Vern Roste and his wife Sonja were driving there for a Pastor's conference, so I caught a ride with them.  Who should I meet up with there but Dr. Cezar Heine!  He asked if I would go out with him for pizza, and while there, he asked me to forgive him for how he had treated me!  I replied that I was glad to, that I had never held anything against him.  I was so grateful that God allowed us to be reconciled, especially when I heard a few years later that he passed away.  God is so good, and He works all things together for good.....in His time!