God’s unexpected sovereign plan unfolded on our vacation to visit my brother and his wife back in Carrot River, Saskatchewan. When we arrived, they told us their pastor had just resigned. The Gospel Mission asked Conrad to fill the pulpit, which he did. Then they asked him to consider pastoring the church. For twenty years my parents had prayed for that church. Were we God’s answer? A deep desire to go gripped my heart. I grew up there so I also knew the sacrifices of living in the remote north. I earnestly prayed, “Lord, if we’re not to go, please don’t let it happen!”

Finally after extensive medical testing, Canada granted us permission for landed immigrant status. Conrad drove a U-Haul and Dad followed in a loaded pickup pulling our Land Cruiser. We left the Bay area at 70° F. on December 20th,’76 and arrived in Carrot River on Christmas Eve at -30° F. In the weeks and months following, Conrad preached the Word with passion and without compromise. Chairs were added to the isles each Sunday.

That first year we caught every Canadian bug that came around. Some months I never did make it church. One night the boys’ fevers rose so high that we fearfully and fervently prayed over them. When we said “Amen,” their bodies were miraculously cool!

Normally I can’t think well under stress or in chaos. One morning at church, right before Sunday School at the peak of mayhem, I hurriedly moved through droves of children. Suddenly, Jonathan  grabbed my leg with both arms. I caught my breath, then knelt down to him and held him close for a few precious moments before he ran off. I could have hurt his feelings so easily by impatiently pushing him off, but God was transforming me!

Joy filled us at the prospect of adding to our family. However, sadness displaced it with two miscarriages. The second time, for lack of space, the hospital placed an elderly, Christian lady in my room. While in labor, I read “. . . every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit” Jn. 15:2. I felt a literal pruning and sobbed into my pillow. Suddenly, I felt Jesus’ arms draw around me. . . Berle had hobbled over and, without a word, embraced me. Knowing she lost more than one child, put my loss into perspective and renewed my hope. While in recovery, I dared walk to the nursery window. There God’s Spirit gently whispered that a relationship with Jesus is even more beautiful than a baby! Paul says, “I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” Phil. 3:8. Only He was and is enough to fill that void.

Life went on and we adapted to country ways by growing and harvesting a large vegetable garden. I baked bread, buns, and cinnamon rolls. We visited the people and enjoyed the country hospitality of spontaneous meal invitations. We bought a snow machine and enjoyed winter activities with our boys, towing them in a Grampa-built sleigh. The first time on a snow machine, I rode behind Conrad. When he put out his foot, as he would on a motor cycle, the drag whipped him off the machine, and I continued down the trail alone. . . laughing my head off!

In time, Conrad’s enthusiastic passion from the pulpit caught some of these settled-down farmers off guard. They rallied for a while, then spiritual warfare broke out! Rumors spread of our intended mutiny from the church conference. On this hearsay, MB Conference men showed up and surrounded Conrad alone in the church kitchen. Yet, when he answered their questions, they backed down and left. Some dear people chose to leave the church, but Wednesday night prayer meeting filled with other dear people praying and studying the Word as never before.

I prayer journaled throughout those days, poured my heart out to God, then wrote the scriptures He gave in response to my outpouring. He met me with comfort and strength. I cannot imagine my state of mind without this communication with Him.

After three years I became pregnant again, but another miscarriage threatened. I did not have the strength for this, but God assured me that if it should happen, His grace was sufficient. My mother-heart cried for my baby to live, but my will determinedly said, “LORD, I want Your will. . . even more than this baby.” Charissa Joy arrived May 17, ’79. What grace and joy in hard times! Another joyful birth came that same year when Jonathan prayed to receive Jesus as his Savior.

Two years later on May 9, ’81, God granted us a third son—Joel Daniel, meaning “God is my judge.” Days later, I hemorrhaged. I felt the pallor and weakness of life literally drain out of me, but clarity and strength returned after a blood transfusion—the same powerful effect of Christ’s blood on our spiritual lives.

My days filled to the brim caring for four little ones. On one of those endless trips down the hall at bedtime for drinks or whatever. I almost put the law down, “Go to sleep!” But, by God’s grace, I went in again and Jami said he didn’t know if he was a Christian. We talked and prayed with him to receive Jesus, making it sure. Other people came to Christ and we held baptisms in roadside dugouts. Our people invited friends and neighbors to our Christmas dinner programs live with music and drama.

After six years, in spite of many joys, cumulative stress succeeded in taking Conrad’s former enthusiasm, leaving him inexplicably tired and depressed. Hypoglycemia seemed a possible cause. The guilt of falling asleep at his desk caused us to seek counsel from trusted sources who confirmed our need to resign. We drove back to California, now with four children and a few possessions after a huge garage sale. Conrad drove and wept.

Many things in our ministry we did not understand, but 1 Corinthians 4:5 says, “Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men’s hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God.”