Telling My Faith Story - I

Telling My Faith Story - I

Okay. I have written at least three posts on "telling our faith stories" - why, why not etc. It is time for me to begin to work on my own story. I am also sharing it here with you. There are many references in the Psalms and elsewhere to telling of the acts of God, his mighty works etc., in the congregation, to the people and to the nations. It is that path I am following here.

I believe in an earlier post I wrote about why I am a Christian that I alluded to my faith heritage as being a factor in that. That is the positive, the blessing, with which I can look back and say my life and my faith pilgrimage started from. I don't know about the faith of my ancestors prior to the Reformation. However, as an Anabaptist Mennonite, I know that I probably come from a pretty good line of faithful ancestors from then till now. I was blessed to have parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts who were mostly staunch members of this faith community in which my roots are. They taught me as much by example as word about it what it means to be a follower of Jesus and to have a relationship with God. There example, their teaching, their prayers - and one can never underestimate that - as well as that of the faith communities to which we belong both guided me as I grew up and kept me from falling into many traps that could have led to more negative outcomes.

If we look at the beginning of my life, my expectant mother (and I) were at her parents’ place, my maternal grandparents, in the Burwalde district in southern Manitoba when she went into labor. There was evidently a snowstorm, it being almost the end of October, which could have had disastrous consequences on the prairies. My mother's family knows from personal experience what happens when neighbors get lost in a snowstorm and freeze to death. However, we made it to the Bethel Hospital in Winkler, 5 miles away.

Then, and I don't know if my mother's physician or she knew this, but I presented for delivery as breech, or feet and rear end first. This in itself can be a dangerous situation, as a baby's head is the biggest part of the body and if the rest is delivered but the head gets stuck, well, you can imagine what could happen. Being a firstborn child added to that risk because who knew how wide my mother's pelvis was going to open. Thirdly, I was being delivered by a family physician in a rural hospital which could also be an issue because they would not have the same training and experience as an obstetrician in larger centers such as Winnipeg, which was over an hour's drive away. Indeed, in those days, it seemed much farther than that. However, rural physicians in those days also became quite accomplished in some of these areas simply through necessity and experience.

So, things worked out and I was delivered all right. Then, some two months later, I guess when I was deemed old enough to travel, mother and I set out on the return trip to join my father many miles to the north in Oxford House, Manitoba. Grandfather, mother and I took the train to the place where we would catch a plane to the community to which we were headed. When the aircraft finally took off from this place, The Pas, it needed to make a stop in Norway House. I almost met a premature end there because the pilot mistakenly at first thought that the people that were waving evergreen branches were welcoming him down to a landing strip on the frozen lake. Actually, they were trying to drive him away, because that was an area where they had just been cutting ice to use for storage and whatever had frozen over after that, would not have supported our aircraft. We landed safely farther away.

The next big event where I would say I remember God's hand being on our family was some six years later. Our youngest brother, not even six months old, was not doing well. We were then living in Grand Rapids, still an isolated community at the mouth of the Saskatchewan River and Lake Winnipeg. We were fortunate enough to get an aircraft to fly mother and Lloyd to St. Anthony's Hospital at the Pas, where they diagnosed that he had what they described as a large cyst on his kidney.

Our whole family then went down to Winnipeg, where Lloyd was operated on to remove this cyst, which resulted in him losing one kidney as well. This was done at St. Boniface Hospital by a Dr. McNamara, I believe, and it was evidently the first time such surgery had been performed in Manitoba on an infant. Lloyd's life was spared again within the year when our family was enjoying some tobogganing on our riverbank on a cold winter day. We were all walking back to the top of the hill after a run when we noticed Lloyd was nowhere to be seen. We looked around and there was his snowsuit-hooded head bobbing in our open waterhole. In those days, we got our water from the river by keeping a hole open in the ice. We grabbed him from that freezing water and rushed him into the house, stripped him and warmed him up and he was all right.

It was around that time, and I am not sure of the exact dates or whether I was six or seven-years-old. Our parents regularly read stories from the Bible or other Christian materials to us at bedtime before they said our night-time prayers with us. I don't know what triggered my behavior on this one particular evening. However, I remember breaking down in tears and crying because of my awareness of my own sinfulness. Our parents comforted me with the words of First John 2:1 and 2: “But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world." Our parents explained this to me and told me what I could do to set things right between me and God with a prayer to him and I decided to do this. My sister decided she wanted to do the same, and we both were "born again" that evening.

I can say, that since that time, no matter what has come my way in my life, no matter what questions might have come up in my mind, God has kept me from straying from the path that he helped set me on that day, and for that I give him thanks. Of course, I am also thankful to my parents and all those around me who had influenced me by that time and continue to do so for their role in helping keep me in The Way since then.