Janette Oke (9 page)

The neighboring Lindberg family was very special to the Steeves. They lived on a farm about a mile away—if one struck out through the trees on the Robakowskie quarter and pursued the cow paths as far as they could be taken in the right direction and then followed his nose. If one went by the road it was a bit farther—but likely faster.

The Lindbergs had three sons. Dennis, the eldest, was just a bit younger than Margie and was always a most amiable playmate for the Steeves youngsters. Gary was next and close to Joyce's age. Vern followed a few years later and was enough younger that Janette does not remember sharing a classroom with him.

Mrs. Lindberg was the local schoolteacher for some of Janette's grade school—and a good one she was, too. Mr. Lindberg was a hardworking and prosperous farmer until they sold the farm and moved to Rimbey. All three of their sons leaned toward the academic and did very well in school.

There were many family visits back and forth for dinners or evenings of games and fun. Children had sleepovers and shared special trips to town or treats of homemade ice cream. Janette still has a photo of the “mock” wedding that Mrs. Lindberg fussed over, just to give the kids something interesting to do. Margie was the bride, Dennis the groom, and the rest of the little party filled in as attendants.

Chapter Thirteen

Family

TheSteeves family was growing up, and sibling relationships and rivalries had to change along with new independence and maturity. Betty, the eldest and the sister who had been the carpenter and craftsman, grew into a quiet, somewhat reserved young lady.

The second sister, Jean, was more outspoken, more impulsive, and it was often Jean with whom Janette would clash. Jean wished to take charge when Amy and Fred were away from home, and although it was obvious that
someone
needed to be in control, Jean's orders were often not well received.

Jack rebelled against her. Janette rebelled right along with him. At times the little house shook with the results of a directive that was not accepted with cooperation.

Though it did not happen often, on at least one occasion Jean decided that a spanking was in order. Jean was seven years her senior, but Janette was big enough—and ornery enough—to resist.

Through the tears that followed, Janette shouted, “I'm glad I'm not
your
kid!”

June had her own place in the family's heart. She was the “neat” one who enjoyed having nice things. Her clothing was always tidy and her hair just so. She was attractive, popular, pleasant, and talented—in fact, the kind of sister that one might envy and feel put down by. Janette adored her, and there were no fights between them. But then, June got along well with everyone.

June had an incredible imagination, and for many years she was the family storyteller. As children, she and Jack had invented their own pretending game where the “horse-steppers” took them to far-off places and let them experience exciting things.

As June grew older her imagination developed soap operas and other exciting tales. Often on the walk home from school she produced her own “programs” and aired them for her own pleasure. Janette always chafed against being required to walk ahead or behind. She would have loved to hear those “radio” presentations. June was the theme music, the announcer, and each player by turn, and the action could be dramatic indeed.

June was also musical. Though she did not have the luxury of music lessons, she did learn how to play the old pump organ that sat in the family living room. Hours were spent singing together, the younger Janette doing the melody and June providing the harmony.

Later, June was able to obtain her own accordion, and she quickly learned to play anything she heard. The family loved to listen to her Strauss waltzes and energetic polkas with the difficult fingering for her left hand.

Because Janette and Margie were so close in age, it was easy for jealousy to crop up. At times there was subtle maneuvering to lure a friend to one “side” or the other. Most often, however, the girls were able to share school chums evenly. It did not help that there were few girls their own ages. Janette's two closest friends were a few years older than she was, while Margie was blessed to have a schoolmate her own age. Often, though, the two found themselves enjoying each other's company in their play.

Milder winter days were spent outdoors. The little nearby hills were used for sledding or even trying out new Christmas skis. Sometimes a horse was used to tow a toboggan.

When the temperatures plummeted well below freezing, the slough behind the barn would be transformed into an outdoor skating rink. The Steeves had no booted skates, but the older kids enjoyed strapping the bob skates to the bottoms of their boots, and Fred would give the younger children a thrill by pulling them on a scoop shovel tied to a long rope. The sensation of speeding across the bumpy ice in long arcs was enough to lure them from the warmth of the house time and time again.

Days were short in the winter, leaving little time to work and play before evening darkness fell and the lamps were lit. One winter night there was a knock at the door and a neighbor stood there with a solemn expression on his face. Beauty had somehow gotten loose, and had been on the road. She was a dark horse on a dark farm road on a very dark night. A car had come over a steep hill, and she had been hit and thrown several feet.

Fred hurried to hook the team to the stone boat, sure that every bone in the small pony's body must be broken. To the family's surprise, she was alive but had to spend many days recuperating in her stall. Though Beauty never fully recovered, she was well enough so the family had their pony for some time to come.

During these dark winter evenings when the wind whistled past the windows, driving snow against the panes, the family gathered at the table under the light of an oil lamp to entertain one another.

Sometimes they copied funny paper characters. June was especially good at drawing all the pretty girls like Daisy Mae. In fact, it was often decided that her girls were even prettier than the professionally drawn ones. Jack was better at the Katzenjammer kids and Popeye.

At other times they tried their hands at limericks. They would each take turns reading their own aloud to see who could get the best laugh. Line upon line was written and crossed out, each child doing his or her best to create a punch line that would send the others into peels of laughter. Groans were all that some produced, others ripples of giggles, and still others loud hoots.

At last it was time for Janette to read hers. She began slowly, sneaking peeks over the top of her page to judge the reaction she was getting.

A smart city slicker from York,
When dining, didn't know beef from pork.
“This is lamb,” he did say,
Then he heard the thing neigh.
Surprised? Well, he swallowed his fork.

The laughter that followed was all the applause she needed, and the spotlight was passed to the next child.

In the glow of the lamplight that splashed against happy faces, more than limericks were being created. The shared moments around the little table brought family members, though very different in personalities, together and gave them a secure place in which to share thoughts and creative efforts.

Soon the first of the children to leave home would be gone from the circle. But long after they had all grown and moved far away, the special bond that was woven between them in those early years would draw them back again and again to the little farm where they learned how to give and receive love.

One Christmas occasion brought unusual visitors. Amy had heard of an Indian couple who was camped in the area on their way through from one reserve to another. A bad storm had come up, blowing a tree over their tent, and, though neither was injured, their tent had been damaged. So Amy sent Fred off with the sleigh to invite them to share the small house.

The couple came, bringing with them their guitars and their skills at entertaining. Janette was still apprehensive about Indians, but this time she found she couldn't resist her curiosity and stayed close by, though still in the background.

Mr. Northwest was great fun. He talked a lot and played and sang and did funny little tricks of whistling into his guitar, which made it seem that the sound came from the ceiling. The woman, whom each assumed to be his young wife, was very quiet and shy. She scarcely said a word. Later, the family learned that they were not married but running off together.

Before the few days together had ended, Janette had left behind her notions that Indians were ferocious. And soon after they had gone, taking along a puppy from the litter in the barn, they sent word back of their safe arrival at the new reservation.

Mr. Northwest expressed appreciation for the family's kindness and relayed to them what had happened in the latter half of their journey. A second storm had caught them while they were still walking along the highway, but a trucker had stopped. Since there was room for only one passenger, Mr. Northwest had sent the woman on ahead in the truck and had continued to walk. Eventually they had both arrived at the reserve.

Mr. Peter Waldin was a young professor at Mountain View Bible School located in the town of Didsbury. This English gentleman visited the Steeves' farm and informed Amy that a summer Bible camp for children was being started at Gull Lake and even offered to supply funds if any of the Steeves children were interested in attending. His only stipulation was that each child attending memorized a given list of Bible verses in order to earn their week's stay. It was decided that Janette, now ten, and Margie would take advantage of the generous offer, and they set about learning the required Scripture verses in preparation for their week at camp. The current Hoadley pastor, Rev. Dyck, and his wife offered to drive the two girls to camp, and they were very excited. This was their first time so far from home without a parent along.

It was a new experience to be sure. The log cabins with their built-in bunks were shared with a number of other girls their age, including one of their cousins, Eva Ruggles. Their cabin counselor was a young pastor's wife by the name of Joyce Taylor. She was very nice and helped to put the girls at ease in the new and strange surroundings.

Once they had settled in and had a look around, they could not help but notice a big, boisterous group of children from Didsbury, the Alberta center of the Missionary Church. Others hung back and let these town kids take center stage. This they did easily and seemed to enjoy the spotlight.

One lad in particular, running around the campgrounds in knee pants, caught Janette's eye. She was not at all used to seeing a ten-year-old boy dressed as he was: carefully pressed clothes, neatly groomed hair, and shoes that looked almost new. She watched as he raced by, swishing a branch and making loud, boisterous noises. Just behind him came his mother calling “Edward!” and trying to make him settle down.

It was at this camp that Janette took the first steps on her spiritual journey. The camp evangelist was Mrs. Beatrice Hedegaard, and Janette thought she was wonderful.

During the week's services, Janette sat stubbornly through a few invitations to come to the front and receive Christ as Savior. Her heart throbbing, her palms sweating, she knew she had sin in her life that needed to be forgiven. She ached to go forward with the other children.

But everyone thinks you're already a Christian,
the deceiver whispered softly.
If you go forward they will think you have been living a lie all this time
.

Janette had thought she was a Christian. Now she knew that just believing the Bible stories—believing that God truly existed, believing that Jesus came to die for the sins of mankind—was not enough. What she needed was to accept that sacrifice for herself, to ask His forgiveness, and to turn her life over to Him.

The end of another service drew near. Again Janette's heart was pounding. The weight of unforgiven sin was heavy upon her small shoulders. Should she bring shame on the Lord—and on herself—by admitting she had been a hypocrite?

This time Mrs. Hedegaard did not ask seekers to come forward. Instead, she asked those who wished to have their sins forgiven, their lives given to Jesus, to simply raise their hands for prayer while the congregation waited with closed eyes. That meant no public exposure. Janette felt that this would not “shame” her God, and she slowly lifted her hand.

But in the next breath, Mrs. Hedegaard asked those who had raised their hands to step forward. There was no stopping now. With the first difficult step behind her, the lies of the accuser were shattered. The Lord would not be ashamed by her admission of need. It had been a lie—just one more lie that Satan had tried to use to hold her back. Quickly, she made her way to the altar and knelt to make her peace with God. Margie was right beside her.

After the two small girls had prayed their own prayer and been counseled by one of the workers, they joined hands and went looking for the evangelist.

“Our daddy doesn't know Jesus,” they told her, tears running freely down their cheeks. “We need to pray for Daddy.”

For Janette, two intense emotions had followed each other, the wonderful realization of forgiveness and freedom from guilt, and then the powerful concern for someone whom she loved dearly who was still “lost.”