I figured that when I grew up, I did not want to marry a farmer. Sometimes when my dad came in from the field, only his teeth and the whites of his eyes were not back with dirt. Besides a huge garden to tend, chickens to butcher, bread to bake in a wood stove, water to haul in and out of the house, and summer guests to feed, Mother also milked the cow, churned butter, and made cottage cheese.

The Jersey milk cow we bought had big brown eyes and long eyelashes. . . and horns! I was afraid of this beautiful creature since she put her head down and chased us when we went into the pasture. One evening I leaned against a stack of bales to gaze at a prairie sunset. Suddenly, I felt hot breath on my neck—her nose nearly touching my face! I bolted to the top of that stack of bales and stayed up there until she finally wandered off.

I outgrew my little blue bicycle and Dicky grew into it, so Daddy asked my Uncle Pete to find a bigger bike for me at the auctions he frequented. He found one—a huge, ugly, faded green, man’s bike. Though it was way too big for me, I did learn to ride it because I had no other choice. One evening I straddled my bike on our bridge to observe another beautiful sunset. My feet could not reach the ground, but my right foot rested on the raised board at the edge. Suddenly, the bike began to tip! Afraid it would fall on me, I leaped and landed clear of my bike on the dry side of the ditch. Panic replaced relief because I could not breathe! After I caught my breath, I still had to haul that huge bike up out of the ditch. I did learn that watching sunsets can be hazardous to your health!

A grizzled, barking, ball of Lhasa Apso fur named Tiny joined our family. We also acquired a larger black and white farm dog. Mother did not like dogs or cats in the house or cars, so when we drove to pick blueberries on the ridge, Pup followed us. We spent the afternoon picking berries, and on the way home, since Mommy still didn’t want the dog in the car, he ran alongside. Suddenly, “Ka-bump!” She stopped the car and I dashed out! He was still alive, so then she helped him into the car. We laid him in the porch and I spoon-fed him medicine, but he died in my lap. We buried him, had a funeral, and I sang, “God Sees The Sparrow Fall.” I think my sincerity amused my mother. The long black fur of our next farm dog shone brightly in the sun from eating chicken eggs he found. Then he began to enjoy eating the chickens too. When Grandma and Grampa Schultz visited from Oregon, Mommy handed Grampa my dad’s hunting rifle to shoot Laddie, which he did. Farm life could be tough. I had to learn that economic survival took priority over pets, but I still could not reconcile the pain in my heart.

In Autumn I entered grade five and was placed in the fast class. My teacher also entered me in a vocal music competition in a neighboring town. Mother told me to smile at the audience before I sang to calm my nerves, which I remembered to do. However, my nervousness erased the second verse, so I repeated the first verse and lost the competition. However, I often sang solos in church and Mommy taught me to sing as we stood and washed dishes together every day. She always made good use of time and told us stories or taught us things while we worked—doing dishes, shelling peas, or weeding the garden.

On my brother’s eighth birthday, he saw Daddy drive to the playground at recess. He ran to the car and Daddy told him his birthday present was a brand new baby sister! The hospital didn’t allow us to see her for ten days because many birth moms hemorrhaged from working too hard caring for their large families if they went home earlier. I was ten when Karen was born and this new darling creation became my real live dolly, which replaced my other dolls.

In sixth grade, I remember having to take an I.Q. test to determine how smart I was. . . or wasn’t. Fears of being retarded still paralyzed my thinking. I’m sure I did very badly. It wasn’t long before childhood faded too soon into an unknown and scary world of adolescence. Seventh grade became a bad memory with a very strict gestapo of a teacher, Miss Denell. I was caught cheating on a test, which didn’t help. My body was changing, my emotions and sleep became erratic, and my childhood tenderness to the Lord waned.

When my dad made a deal to sell the farm, my already shaky adolescent world crumbled. Mom was from the States and they always said our next move would be to Oregon. To leave my home, my friends, my best friend, my first crush, my beloved grandparents in Dalmeny, and my beloved Canada felt unbearable. We even had to leave Tiny behind because it cost money to bring a dog across the border.

Mother tried telling me about the ocean, the fruit trees, and warm weather in Oregon. I figured the wind through the poplars sounded enough like ocean waves and berries grew on the ridge. Though God did not minimize my sadness, He also knew the plans He had for me. Somehow, He held me through my grief, stubbornness, and immaturity until He grew me up. . .  both of which He is still doing.