Cathy and I packed our few belongings in the back of our ‘56 Pontiac that I bought for $600 during Cathy’s last year of Bible school, and started out.  Finally we reached Meadow Lake, where the Mission headquarters was located at the time, and met with the board.

When we drove into Meadow Lake for the first time and Cathy saw an Indian man standing on the street, she said, “Look at that guy. He looks exactly like the Indians back home.”

She doesn’t know now what she expected but she soon realized that she wasn’t any more ready to work with these people than the natives back in her home area. This brought her to her knees asking God for a compassion and understanding of this people of a different culture. The Lord gave her that compassion.  He also gave us the privilege to go back years later and work with the natives in her home area where we now have many friends.

We were scared to death as we went into the room where Stan Collie, John Penner, Ray Bradford, Art Tarry and the others were sitting. We were a couple of scared kids standing before the toughest bunch of beady-eyed board members we had ever seen.

They talked with us about our testimonies and why we wanted to go with the Northern Canada Evangelical Mission. We thought we were getting along all right until they started asking us about our finances.

“How much support do you have?”

“Thirty five dollars a month.”

They looked at each other, then back at me.  “Don’t you think you should go home and visit a few more churches?”

“I went to all the churches I know,” I said. “That’s all they gave me. The Lord gave us enough to get here, but we don’t have enough to get back so He must have meant for us to stay.” We had received $200 in cash at our wedding.

They looked at each other and I was sure that they were about to turn us down. “I thought this was a faith Mission,” I told them.

I see now that I made a stupid remark but they decided we could stay.

“I guess you’ll have to go to the Children’s Home,” Mr. Bradford told us.

We asked if we could go to language school instead. We wanted to get onto the field.  “How much English have you had?” “Fourth grade. At least that’s what they told me when I left school in the eighth grade.” I knew they were going against their own assessment of my ability but one of them said, “You can try language school.”

Years later John Penner told us, “When you went out we said, ‘There’s one couple that will never make it.’ “ “I’m glad you didn’t tell me that before.” We started taking Cree lessons. The first three or four months, Cathy made more progress than I did, but I got the hang of it and caught up with her. I don’t mean to brag. It happened only by the grace of God, but I was the only one in our class of sixteen who became fluent in Creel I learned on my knees by much prayer.

We had some other things to learn while we were in language school. We didn’t have any kids but we knew exactly what the others were doing wrong and how they should raise their children. We couldn’t understand it at the time but now we have a fairly good idea why they didn’t appreciate our counsel. We were the only couple with no children. We did help babysit some to help the others.

The women took turns cooking and everybody ate together. This wasn’t exactly an easy way to start out married life for either of us. The other women had an advantage, having cooked for a family. Cathy held her own, but it was a new experience for her. It wasn’t all bad. We had some good times with the other language students.

While at language school we didn’t have two nickels to rub together. We couldn’t even treat ourselves to an ice cream cone. Our social life was strictly confined to fellowshipping with other missionaries on the compound due to our lack of funds.

One Sunday I had been invited to speak at a church in Compass, a few miles from Meadow Lake.  We spent the day there and had a wonderful time of fellowship with the folks from the church. After the evening service we discovered a flat tire on our car so we went over to Jake Esau’s to get it repaired. After a lunch we headed home. As misfortune would have it, we blew another tire on the way home, with no spare.  The weather was extremely cold and we sat there wondering if we would freeze before someone came along. Shortly after praying about it, a young couple came along and gave us a ride into town.  The next morning it was 40 below zero and Mr.  Bradford kindly drove me out to where the car was parked on the side of the road. I had borrowed two tires from John Unger. After the tires were changed, Mr. Bradford had to pull our car to get it started.  However, when our car started, the chain popped off Mr. Bradford’s car and flew back puncturing the rear tire of our car. Fortunately, we had brought an extra tire. That was three flat tires in less than twenty-four hours, and no money to replace them.  We had planned to go to Montreal Lake to the Children’s Home to visit with fellow missionaries and speak over the Christmas vacation. Our good friends, Ted and Martha Leschied, were coming along with us.  One of the missionaries said, “I guess you’ll have to cancel your trip to Montreal Lake.” Our answer was, ‘’If the Lord wants us to go, He’ll supply.” That week $100 came in unexpectedly and Gordon Brucks gave us a special deal on four new tires. The Leschieds paid the gas and we were off to Montreal Lake on schedule.

This is only one example of how the Lord looked after us over the years.

Being newlyweds, the language course was a strain at times.

The heavy assignments and the stress of coping with many adjustments did make it difficult at times but the Lord brought us through and taught us many valuable lessons.

Our living quarters was a bedroom over the main NCEM office. Three single ladies lived on that floor as well. The shack that was our classroom was also our kitchen and dining room.

It was at Meadow Lake that we were introduced to 60 below zero weather. The fuel oil would gel in the barrels.

One of the fellows had taken courses in linquistics so he thought Cree was going to be a breeze—so much so that he didn’t put much effort into it and flunked out. I knew it was going to be a minor miracle if I got through, so I was on my knees asking God to help me.

After I learned Cree, I realized that I was one of the fortunate ones who found learning foreign languages comparatively easy. I’ve studied French for six years, learned enough Micmac to get by and a sort of baby-talk Inuktitut.

* * *

During language school we made the usual trips to the fields nearby. We went to the Big Head and Waterhen Reserves with Roy Market. Ron, Marshal Calverley’s son, went along with me to Green Lake where we met Barney Lacendre, who wasn’t a Christian at the time.

We started working with John and Emily Unger on the Sandy Lake and Meadow Lake Reserves and after we finished language school we got a dog team from Marshal Calverley and moved to Canwood to work on the Sandy Lake Reserve.

It was the middle of March when Art Tarry took us to Canwood to look at the house that was available for rent. A window was broken and snow had drifted across the floor. The door was frozen open and it seemed colder inside than out. There was no source of either water or wood close by.

Art stood with us in the middle of the kitchen and looked around. “Yeah, I guess this will do.” He encouraged us to rent it for $20 a month.  The day we moved in we had no idea where we would find water to clean the place up. In answer to prayer, the Lord brought along a native man who offered to give us some water. He explained that water was delivered to the door by the drayman, two pails for a quarter or we could drive two miles to a hand pump in an open field. This became our choice. The free water he provided that day was a welcome gift.  We had a wood burning cook stove so we could have some heat, repaired the window and set to work cleaning up the place.

A crew of men had been living there and the place was filthy. There was vomit on the walls. Cathy was pregnant at the time and washing those walls made her sick. She made a lot of trips to the slop bucket herself before we got the cleaning done. We both worked hard at it. Cathy remembers my scrubbing the floors and the water was black but water was so precious we couldn’t throw it out.

Rats and mice kept a steady pace running up and down between the walls at night. We lived just across from a grain elevator.

Thirteen year old Eileen Unger had given us a gift of pancake mix and soup-in-a-cup mix. That was all we had to eat that first weekend. We didn’t have much support in those days. We thought twice before we bought a stamp to mail a letter. We would buy meat by the quarter pound and the butcher always put his finger on the scale and asked if a third of a pound was all right. He didn’t know how much we dreaded seeing him do that. Often we had to search through our pockets to find a quarter to buy a little milk. Most of our money went for gas.

When we started having meetings in our home, one of the Indian men brought an air tight heater with him the second time we got together.  One day while visiting on the reserve, I came upon a family having dinner outside by a campfire. They promptly invited me to join them, which I did for a meal of fresh roasted skunk. The carcass was still hanging in the bush not far away giving off an unpleasant odor, the smell of which didn’t add to the flavor. I could still smell that skunk when I got home that night.

One of the native ladies later said, “Poor Mr. Hill, I don’t know how he could eat that.” That wasn’t the normal diet for most of the people.

Shortly after arriving in Canwood, Albert and Ada Arcand moved in with us for a couple of weeks. She had just graduated from Bible school in La Ronge, Saskatchewan, and they needed a place to live. They found a small house to rent in the village and proved to be a real help in the work. They also became lifelong friends. Their son, Tom was a delight to have in our home as well. He often came with me on visitation in those days. He went on to graduate from Prairie Bible Institute, served with Operation Mobilization, then became a lawyer and is now the first native judge in Alberta.

Ada Arcand used to go with Cathy and me on visitation. We would have eight services a day and by this time Cathy was expecting our first little one. She would come home so tired she couldn’t even fix supper but would go straight to bed.  About three or three thirty in the afternoon she would ask me if we could quit. I learned later she made it early enough so she could handle one more house. She knew I would say, “Let’s go to one more family.”

Quite often when we showed up at one place the people would call their neighbors in, so it was a regular service. I had a guitar and had learned several hymns in Creel There was one I felt I knew particularly well so we sang it at every home we visited.

It must not have been quite as good as I thought it was. Finally Ada couldn’t stand it any longer. “Carroll,” she informed me. “If you sing that song ONE more time I’m through. I’ll never go with you on visitation again!”

Traveling on the reserves was rough at times.  There were few roads and we found ourselves driving mostly on wagon trails. Cathy was expecting our first child and sometimes found that kind of travel a bit uncomfortable.

God gave us a real love for these people.  Sometimes when I travailed by myself I would walk across the fields and rolling hills, pouring my heart out to God on behalf of these people. I remember getting down on my knees and asking the Lord to give me wisdom on how to reach these dear folks.  A number of people made decisions for Christ while we were there.

Since we moved to Prince Albert, an Indian man knocked on our door one night.

“Piihtokwe,” (Come in) I said as I wondered who he was.

“Do you remember me?”

There was something familiar about him but I couldn’t place him.

“I live in Saskatoon now but I used to live in Canwood. I was twelve years old when you led me to the Lord. I was going by your house-when you lived in Canwood and you called me into the house and got me down on my knees to accept Christ.” It wasn’t quite that bad but I must have been persistent.

“The Lord has never let me go all these years,’, he said.

At various times we’ve met a number of men and women who became Christians while we were at our first charge.

We stayed at Canwood eight months while we worked on the Sandy Lake Reserve. Then we were moved to Atikameg, Alberta. Before we left Sandy Lake, thirty-six people from the reserve came to see us. They took up an offering and gave us $16. It just about broke our hearts to have them express such love. The Mission asked us to move to Atikameg and Gift Lake as they needed someone who could speak Creel By this time I was preaching in Creel We left Sandy Lake and drove to Meadow Lake where our son, Vince, was born. We stayed there for three weeks and went on to northern Alberta in savage winter weather with a tiny baby.  The farther we drove the narrower the trail got.  “Are you sure we’re on the right road?” Cathy asked me.

I wasn’t sure about that, nor was I sure that we would make it with our old Pontiac. The far end of the road was just a truck trail, kept open by logging trucks. We’d meet them and they’d make us run off the road. When they got by us they would stop and pull us out. I’m still not sure how we managed to make it to our destination, but we finally got there with a crying baby who was sick from the winding turns in the road.

We stayed with Dave and Mary Wiens for two or three weeks. Dave was the supervisor on the Gift Lake Colony, a village of around 400. Mary was a school teacher. They were involved in ministry to the native people, holding Sunday morning services and a children’s Bible club during the week. They had asked NCEM to send someone to help in the work. It was while we stayed with the Wiens’ that Dave bought a skid shack and had it hauled to Salt Prairie for us to live in. It was nicely fixed up inside with one bedroom off the kitchen area. Salt Prairie is twenty-three miles south of Gift Lake. In those days the roads were terrible and many times impassible in the spring and summer. They could have their problems in the winter too, with hairpin turns and a lot of snow.  One night not long after we moved into our little abode, we drove to Gift Lake for a youth meeting.  Vince was just a tiny baby.

A family was stuck by the bridge just out of Gift Lake and I stopped to help them. We hadn’t been there long when I realized it was going to be more of a job than I anticipated so I suggested that Cathy take the car to the Viens’ house. They weren’t there but we had a key to the house.

When she got to the village she discovered there was not a single light on in the entire village. The power plant had gone out and she didn’t know her way well enough to know how to get to the house so she kept driving. And the more she drove the more confused she became.

It was winter time and she drove on the road that led to a trail ploughed across the lake to the logging camp. She realized she was on the wrong road and tried to turn around in a driveway. She got stuck and panicked.

“I didn’t even have a driver’s license, let alone know much about driving,” she explains.  And she had a visualized children’s story to tell.  It was one of those terrible nights when everything goes wrong. In the confusion the pictures for her children’s story fell on the floor of the car and she ripped some of the pages into pieces with her feet.  Finally she went up to a house and asked where she was.

“Oh, you’re on the other end of the colony. It’s all the way over there.”

“My car’s stuck,” she said. “Carroll’s going to be looking for me and I’ve got to get over to Wiens’. How can I get there?”

“I’ll go with you,” the kind native lady said. “I’ll carry the baby for you.”

She wrapped Vince in a blanket and the two of them waded through snow almost to their knees in places. Finally they got to the Wiens’ house where Cathy lit a candle and set it in the window so I would know she was there. But that was after I had already got to Wiens’ house and saw that she wasn’t there.  I really panicked. I ran all the way around the colony and when I came back David Wiens had just arrived home. What a relief to see that candle in the window and find Cathy and Vince safe inside. Dave and I then went with the tractor to get the car, only to find it wasn’t really stuck. Cathy had just panicked.  We stayed on that field eight and a half years. We built our own house at Atikameg after we had been on the field a year or so. The Wiens’ provided the money for our home. They were a real help and encouragement to us in the work.

That first winter we got right into the work. We found the people very friendly for the most part and we had good meetings in Gift Lake. Over the eight and a half years we were in that area we had as many as sixty to seventy young people coming to meetings.  At least nine have gone to Bible school from Gift Lake since those days.

Homes were scattered in Salt Prairie, but we were parked in the yard of Bill Babcock. Bill farmed as well as drove the grader in that area. There was Bill, Mary (his war-bride from Holland), their two children, Jimmy and Nancy, and Bill’s Mom—better known as Grannie Babcock. She was a fine Christian and has since gone to be with the Lord. We appreciated the kindness of the Babcocks during those days.  Our first spring in Salt Prairie was one to remember. The road to Gift Lake became a quagmire even while the snow was still in the bush. I walked the twenty-three miles to have service and visit. One of the Gift Lake men, Oliver Anderson, took pity on me and loaned me his saddle horse.

Finally, we decided to take a two month furlough and drive East. We drove from northern Alberta to New Brunswick with $120 in our pocket.  After a short time in the East with numerous deputation meetings and visiting family, friends and supporters, we drove back to Salt Prairie. It was the spring of ‘63 and we started planning a Bible camp.

The Jaycoxes, who worked with the Christian and Missionary Alliance, had suggested a good location at Twin Lakes, eighteen miles north of Atikameg.

Jimmy Babcock and I drove up to Twin Lakes and cleared land and built tables. It was a pretty spot in the pines along the lakes. A creek meandering through the area provided drinking water.

We announced the camp by word of mouth only, for the first of July. We were pleasantly surprised when 200 people showed up with their tents and teepees. They came by car, truck, horseback and covered wagon. The covered wagons came as far as fifty miles by bush trails. It was neat to see. Bill and Shirley Jackson and their crew of workers came to help. Some of the families fed themselves but we cooked for around sixty people over an open fire with pots set on rocks.  The Lord blessed and it was one of our best camps.

I’ll never forget the trip home. After the people left, all the workers cleaned up the place and packed the old army tents, etc. and headed out.  Well, it started raining. By the time we got to Gift Lake the roads were getting bad. Dave Wiens gassed up all our vehicles at his expense and we headed south. The farther we went, the worse it got. It took us twenty-nine hours to go twenty-three miles to Salt Prairie where the gravel started.  All day and all night we were plowing mud and pulling and pushing each other out of the ditch.  Half the time you couldn’t tell where the road ended and where the ditch started. By the time we got the last vehicle out, Dave had sent the government tractor and winch truck to help as well.  Everyone stopped at our place to eat and when I came in last there was nothing left to eat. We had spent our whole month’s cheque on the camp so we had nothing. We had barely enough gas to go the twelve miles to Grouard where we got our mail.  Anyway we prayed and went for the mail. There was a cheque for $100 from a church we had never heard from before nor since. We wrote and thanked them but never heard from them again.  The Lord is so good to supply our needs.  The Twin Lakes Bible Camp is still going and one year about one thousand people came for that week of family camp. Today other groups have camps in the area so the numbers have declined from their peak.

We had baptisms there and two weddings. Two babies were born at Bible camp—born right in a teepee. I doubt that there’s another Bible camp in Canada or the States that can make that claim.  Atikameg is north of Gift Lake and because we couldn’t live on the Metis colony, we looked at the possibility of getting a place there. I remember checking out a log cabin belonging to Johnny Whitford. That didn’t work out. On another trip, we walked a couple of miles around the lake to look at a lot near Mink Creek. It was 30 below zero. We ended up leasing this lot. It was here that we moved our skid shack the following summer and built our first home.

Our lot was on a hill overlooking the lake with Mink Creek running by about 100 yards to the east. The native kids and later our own, would catch jackfish up to two feet long in the creek. Mink Creek was our only running water for the next eight years. We could watch the kids swim out front in the summer and the ducks feeding. In many ways it was a beautiful place. We had many good times with fond memories. There were the bad experiences as well. We had our cries as well as our laughs.

* * *

Our time at Atikameg was one of learning for us. We learned much about the culture of the Indian people and worked hard at learning the language. I guess a person always says ridiculous things when he’s learning a new language. I was just learning Cree and there was a little couple who lived nearby who everyone called Wiipas. I thought that was his real name.

One day when I met him I said, “Taanisi Wiipas.”

He glared at me.

“What did you say?”

I repeated it and his scowl deepened. We went on to talk about other things but he wasn’t very friendly.

The next time I met our Indian friends I told them what happened. “I was talking to that guy up on the hill,” I said, “and he got mad when I called him ‘wiipas.’ “ They laughed. “Nobody calls him that to his face. Wiipas means ‘filthy.’ His real name is “Finish Walking Around.”

On one occasion Cathy was home alone when an Indian woman she knew came running through the snow to our place without a jacket and no overshoes. It was about 2:00 o’clock in the morning.

“Emily! “ (Not her real name) Cathy exclaimed.

“What has happened? “

“I think I killed my brother-in-law. He was beating up my sister. He gets wild when he’s drinking. I took the axe and hit him over the head with it.”

Cathy turned on the oven on the gas stove and opened the oven door so she could get warm. She gave her a hot cup of tea and got her calmed down. After they talked awhile she had Emily go to bed in our home and the next morning she went back to her own home.

I was away with the car so we couldn’t take her there but Cathy gave her warm clothes before she left. As it turned out her brother-in-law had to be taken to the hospital with a bad cut and a terrible headache, but he survived.

* * *

We not only got acquainted with the Indians in the area, we got acquainted with the whites who lived there, as well. Phil Nickles, the local forest ranger, was a real character. We often stopped at his place before we got to our home in Salt Prairie.  On one trip the road was particularly tough. Phil asked, “How was the road?”

“Pretty rough.”

A little later an oil man driving a Land Rover stopped to ask about the road north.  “It’s impossible to make it,” Phil told him.

“What do you mean? This guy just came through.”

“Yeah, but he has the Lord on his side.”

“I’ve got a four wheel drive.”

“Don’t even try it. Hill made it but don’t even try. You’ll never make it.”

On a trip to the fire tower with Phil, I was telling him we had twelve hens and once in awhile we would get thirteen eggs.

“That’s bologna! I can believe most things you tell me, but you’ll never get me to believe that.” We went out to the hen house when we got to our place that night and sure enough, there were thirteen eggs.

“What do you feed them?”

“Straight laying mash.”

“No wonder,” he said. “You’re going to kill those hens!”

In the fall after moving to Atikameg, we built our first home. Three of the Mission men, Murray Richardson, Doug Day and Quindel King came and helped with the foundation. Then Harold and Dallas Roberts came to help me build. We finished the house from the foundation in three weeks. It had gotten down to 50 below zero before we finished. We were glad to have more room. When we lived in the skid shack, I used to say we had to go outside to change our mind.

Once when the temperature went to 60 below zero we saw the oil gel in the barrel outside. I had to make a fire under the barrel to thin it out enough to keep our little oil heater going. In our new house, we burned wood.

* * *

At times, Cathy and I had seven meetings a week, counting Sunday services on two settlements: Gift Lake and Atikameg, and in addition, two classes of religious instruction twice a week in each school, young people’s, etc. When Cathy had ladies’ meetings, I would often baby sit a dozen kids in the basement. She not only had Bible studies in Cree with the ladies, she taught them how to cook and sew.

I also went out to visit the men on their traplines, walking as far as 60 miles in three days.  I’d go from lake to lake, visiting ten to fifteen trappers.

In those early days at Atikameg, I used to visit Albert and Mary Ward on their trapline. I’ve seldom seen such commitment and devotion shown by a man to his wife. Mary was stone blind and their trapline was deep in the bush where it was easy to get lost.

When he was going to be gone he would tie a cord to her wrist and tie the other end to a tent post and would give her a hundred feet or so of slack.  That way she was able to cook or sew or putter around the camp, doing whatever she wanted to and he didn’t have to be concerned that she would wander off and not be able to find her way back.  For some reason they were amazed that I would walk fifteen or twenty miles to their camp.  We had excellent rapport with them.  When Albert was about seventy years old he was in the hospital and the doctor said he was dying. The nurses didn’t even feed him any more.  When we came to see him he said he wanted to die at home. I talked to the doctor, who was agreeable, if the family signed him out.  I wasn’t sure we wanted to do that. I wasn’t even sure he would make it home, he was so weak. That night after I got him home, Cathy and I prayed about it. We were concerned he wouldn’t make it. The visiting nurse wouldn’t stop and see him because she was afraid she would be held responsible for any difficulties that might develop.  Cathy remembered the Gerber’s baby food we used to feed our kids and we decided to try it with him. Every half hour or so we gave Albert a spoonful. It seemed to agree with him and three weeks later he was up walking around.  When the nurse heard that she came to see him.

“I don’t need you now,” Albert told her in Creel During this time he received Christ as his Savior and was regular in his attendance in church. Sometimes he was the only one there besides my family. Strangely enough he lived for twenty-two years after that. I have the card the Prime Minister sent him on his 90th birthday.

We also had contact with young trappers.  Gilbert and Marina Laboucan were two of them. They were in our young people’s meetings when we first met them. They married a few years later and ended up going out on the trapline. They received Christ as their Savior. Gilbert later became the chief on their reserve.

We had many young people who came to OUR youth meetings at both Atikameg and Gift Lake. One girl, who was saved after we left there, spoke on one of the Tribal Trails TV programs.

“I was in Sunday school and young people’s all those years,” she said, “but I never did really understand the gospel until I watched Tribal Trails.”

We had known her for years, but we were surprised at her testimony. One of the first lessons Cathy and I learned was that we can preach and preach and preach, but unless the Lord opens the ears of the listener, he or she won’t really hear what is said.

We also had street meetings in front of the hotel in High Prairie, 60 miles to the south. For two years I was on the hospital board in that town. The government bought the local Catholic Hospital and they set up a board. I was asked to serve when two men said they should have someone on the board to represent the natives. So I represented 9,000 natives in that area.

I also was involved in building a fish plant in Atikameg.

They used to sell 400,000 pounds of whitefish at Atikameg every year. They would ice the fish and haul them down to Faust and they would be packed there. But by the time they got them to the fish plant, the ice had melted and the spoilage was so bad they would lose a lot of their catch.

It developed into a bizarre situation before work was started. The government sent a man by the name of Ralph Curry up to supervise the building of the plant. Although the authorization of the project came from Ottawa, Indian Affairs was opposed to building the plant and was dragging its feet. They tried to talk the natives into opposing the plant. That was something I couldn’t understand.  I got into the situation because I was asked to do the interpreting. I had a talk with the chiefs and told them if they messed that up they were making a big mistake. It was something they really needed. They went back in and talked with the Indian agents who were really upset, especially when the chiefs decided to go with the new fish plant.

Ralph Curry and I went to High Prairie to check on the money to pay for the building and were told there wasn’t any. I couldn’t figure that out. I knew Ottawa did some strange things but I couldn’t see them sending a man to Alberta to supervise a building project when there was no money to do the work.

Curry got on the phone and was told the money was there and he should get in touch with the Department of Indian Affairs, which we did. They got upset. “You really got us in trouble,” they informed us, irritably.

“It’s about time somebody got you moving,” I told them. “They don’t send a guy up from Ottawa to do a job with no money. “

I never did get the story straight, but somebody must have located the money. They built the plant and it proved to be a fine thing for the Indian fishermen. The first year the price changed, because of the loss of fish, from eighteen cents a pound to sixty-four cents a pound.

Not only that, they got paid for working on the building.

Another time I went with Mr. Curry and a delegation of natives to Edmonton. We met the Inlands Fisheries Board of Canada and I interpreted. That was a great trip. The Lord gave me a real opportunity to share with the men and especially with Ralph when we got back to Atikameg. The chief from Atikameg sent me In his place.

* * *

Fill My Heart

Fill my heart, Dear God above
Fill me with Thy tender love,
And at the closing of the day
It is for this I still will pray.

Lord, Make Us See

Make us, O Lord to see
That we received our life from thee,
And being bound in sin,
You long to set us free.

In front of Hill's mansion.	Cathy at age 5.

The family in 1958.

Our first car.	Cathy and I at NBBI.

My first year on staff at Sandy Cove Bible Camp.	Dean Balser, Dean Somers, Carroll, Rollie Rockam at Sandy Cove Bible Camp - missionary skit.