Until we got to Newcastle, we didn’t have the opportunity to give our children the advantages that city living provided. We used to spend as much time as possible with our children when we lived in Alberta. We went horseback riding, had our own rodeo once, went camping and on picnics. But after moving to Newcastle other chances came for us to give them training in 254 certain areas. We gave the kids music lessons and I ran a newspaper route with the boys.  Between Roger and Vince and me, we had 160 paper customers. Even Charlene had a small route. I was jumping fences and going through hedges and all that stuff.

Roger used to carry a pellet revolver in his bag because of all the dogs that came after him. It wasn’t powerful enough to kill or injure them but it stung them enough to discourage them. One drunk paid him $5 to counsel him. He spent twenty minutes listening and witnessing to the guy and at first refused the money, but the fellow pushed it on him.

While we lived there, Vince and Roger both set up youth campaigns aimed at reaching their peers for Christ. One was renting a movie and showing it in the high school theatre at noon hour. The other was a regular evangelistic campaign. They had arranged for an outside evangelist to speak. They rented the high school gym and had brought in over 200 kids that night. There were six who came to the Lord. I remember that well. The evangelist didn’t show up so I had to speak. Six kids received Christ.

The boys were on the executive counsel of the Inter-School Christian Fellowship and they took an active part in our ministry. When we were out on the reserve having Bible club after school or in Burnt Church, twenty-five miles away doing the same thing, the boys and Charlene had supper ready for us when we got home. We taught them to cook. They would have casseroles or cakes ready for us.

We always felt that it was good training for them.  Transferring from Atikameg to Pierceland and then to Newcastle was quite an adjustment for both the boys and Charlene.

They changed schools three times in one year and 255 went from a one room school to one of 450 kids.  Roger and I both went through the Red Cross course in life saving. It took us two years to get all the swimming instruction and first aid courses and to earn our bronze medallions. That made it possible for us to serve as registered life guards at our camps if the need arose. The camp lifeguard serves in one of those unappreciated jobs that is far more important than some of the others. Let a life guard foul up and a camper drowns and, aside from the tragedy of a lost life, the camp could be ruined.

On one of our trips to the Arctic we took Charlene with us. She immediately made friends with the teens in each village and has corresponded with some of them since.

* * *

We hadn’t been in New Brunswick long when I was asked to assume the responsibilities of Eastern Field Director. Cliff McComb lived in the West at the time we moved to New Brunswick, but was taking care of the Eastern Field. It seemed more practical to have someone who lived in the area as director so I was asked to take it.

Cliff and I set up the work in the Eastern Arctic and we checked out the different reserves in the St.  Lawrence River area and Labrador, to see where missionaries were needed.

I was talking with Don Marshall, the Grand Chief of the Micmacs, and his wife, Carolyn, in Nova Scotia when he asked if I had ever visited the Indians in Newfoundland.

“I didn’t even know there were any Indians over there,” I said.

“There are five reserves.”

“That’s interesting. Can you tell me where they are?” He gave me a list of all the chiefs and said I could tell them he had recommended that I come and talk with them.

I sent Bob and Darleen Steward over first, then Cathy and I went.

We visited Flat Bay, St. George, Benoits Cove, Gander Bay, Glenwood and Conne River. A missionary couple went there to work after that visit.  James Drew and his family were one of the first people we met. He later came to Christ. Cathy and I were back to Newfoundland a few times.  Stan Collie and I were making a trip north of the St. Lawrence River when I got word that Charlene was in the hospital and I had to leave him and go back. I was preparing a message on the boat toward home when I looked back toward the shore and started thinking about the area.  “There’s something like 8,000 Montagnais Indians on ten reserves with little being done to reach them.” I said to myself. “Why would God allow me to see so many places with so many great needs and I can only be in one place at a time?” I couldn’t keep the tears back. It was as though the Lord was saying to me, “You can’t go everywhere, but you can send someone else. You can encourage someone else to go....” About that time another guy came over and sat down beside me. I guess he saw I was having a rough time. It isn’t often that someone sits on a ferry crying.

He said, “What’s wrong?”

“You probably wouldn’t understand. I just came from visiting the Montagnais Indians and there’s such a need for the gospel there. The people are lost. They need the Lord.”

I showed him what I was looking at in the Bible.  The guy wasn’t even a Christian but he sat there, amazed. Not at me, but at the fact that someone would care enough about the souls of others to cry over them.

It was a real opportunity for me. I switched it around and started witnessing to him. He made no decision then. He may never have received Christ, but it seemed that his heart was touched.  While Stan Collie and I visited some of the villages, we met an old couple who really opened up to the Word. They invited friends and neighbours to their house. We spent a whole day with these folks. They only spoke Montagnais and French. We were sharing in French until I heard the old folks talking Montagnais and it sounded like Cree. I said, “Kineheyawan ciy?” (Do you speak Cree?) and they said, “Ehe” (Yes).

Well we switched to Cree and could communicate much better. The people taped the Cree songs we sang and I shared verses and preached in Cree.

That night after everyone left, the old couple asked us to stay. I read a short portion in Cree and asked if we could pray. When I prayed I heard the lady pray too, thinking she was probably repeating what I said. When we finished she was smiling and tears were running down her face. She held her hand on her chest and was saying, “Oh niteh” (Oh, my heart). Is she having a heart attack? I thought.  She then said, “Nishtaapweten” (I believe). I asked her if she really understood and she replied that she did. God knows her heart and I feel that she had put her trust in Him. I never got back there again, but a few years later we “just happened” to meet this couple’s granddaughter in Ontario. She had come to Christ and shared that her grandparents also knew the Lord.

As for me, the Lord has shown me over the years

that I can make a difference by touching the hearts

of others and encouraging them to go out on the

mission field. I’ve been in over 400 churches around

Canada and the United States and in a number of

Bible schools and colleges. I’ve had the opportunity

to share my burden with others, passing it on to

them. As a result, other

missionaries have gone out, too.

258

I’ve served on the Mission board in one capacity or another for something like fourteen years.

* * *

Living in Newcastle, New Brunswick, gave us an opportunity to travel on a lot of ferries, going out to Newfoundland and Prince Edward Island and different places and it allowed us to witness on ships that came to our port. Ships from all over the world found their way to our harbor in Newcastle.  We belonged to the Shore Links, a Seaman’s Mission. It is an organization for Christians coming in who want to find Christians on shore. We have seen people saved and baptized who just came in to port.  We’ve had people from all over the world in our home: Africans, Scots, English, Australians and a host of others.

On a number of occasions I was able to go on different ships with the local Shantyman, Jack McKie. The captain of one ship was so paranoid about foreigners that he wouldn’t even allow the RCMP to come on board when they were supposed to do a fire check. I knew that when I went to the guard house with a handful of tracts and other material in Russian and asked about getting aboard.  “You can’t get on,” my friend, Dennis Somers and I were told.

“Just give us a chance,” I replied. “We’ve prayed about it and I’m sure the Lord will get us on.” He shrugged and motioned me through but I know he figured I would be back in a couple of minutes. I went to the top of the ramp on the Russian ship and waited. A sailor came up. “What’s your business?” He asked in broken English.  “I want to see the captain.”

“What’s your business?” He repeated.

“I want to see the captain.”

He asked the question a third time.

“I just want to see the captain,” I said, my voice as serious as I could make it.

He didn’t know what was going on so he pressed the buzzer. The first mate came all the way down and led me up to the captain’s quarters about five stories above the water.

The captain’s office was bigger than most living rooms. The rest of the ship I saw was filthy, but his quarters were spotless and beautifully appointed. He was sitting behind a huge desk bolted to the floor.  “What’s your business?” He demanded. It was easy to see that he didn’t want to be interrupted.  “I came to talk to you about Jesus Christ.” He about fell off his chair. I could almost read his mind. He was thinking, ‘Elow did you get in here?’ But, instead of ordering me to leave he said, “Sit down.”

I sat across from his desk and said, “How long have you been sailing this tub?”

“Thirty years,” he retorted gruffly.

“That’s quite awhile. You get to travel quite a bit.”

But he didn’t want to waste time on small talk.

“Let’s get to the point.”

I pulled out a copy of the tract, Four Things God Wants You to Know in Russian, and slid it across to him. “I’d like to give these out to the crew.”

“Certainly” not. We’re atheists.”

“Atheist!’-‘ I repeated. “You must be crazy.” “What do you mean, ‘crazy?’ “ He demanded, 260 his temper rising.

“You’ve got to be crazy, man. You tell me that you’ve been sailing this tub for thirty years and you don’t believe there’s a God? “

The first mate was still standing there a few steps to my left.

“That’s right!” The captain repeated. “I don’t believe there’s a God.”

“Then you’ve got to be crazy.”

By this time his face was getting red and warning lights were gleaming in his eyes, “No’” “What happens in a case like this?” I said.  “You’ve been sailing. You understand the sea.  You’re out there on the high seas in the winter time. I mean it’s really rough. You’re out there and your compass goes berserk. What happens?” “That’s no problem. Oh.... I see what you mean.” He pointed up at the sky. “We navigate by the stars.”

“I suppose you figure they just blew in by themselves.”

He was silent for a moment or two and didn’t mention atheism again. After that we got into a serious talk.

I was still trying to get permission to distribute the tracts on his ship.

“We can’t allow it. We’re communists.” “I can understand communists,” I said. “Not atheists.”

“Work is our god,” he continued.

“I can understand that, too,” I answered. “My dad 261 thought that.”

I tried to get the conversation to his family. “What about your wife. Are you married?” He nodded. “I’m married.”

“Do you have any children?”

“Yeah,” he answered, as though they really weren’t very important in his life. He kept turning the conversation back to work.

“You miss them, don’t you?”

For a moment a strange look came into his features.  “It must really be hard to be away from them so long.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of....” He checked himself as though he had said too much already.  After that he really opened up. His name was Captain Alexander, he told me. We spent two hours together. After a time, the first mate went outside and started walking up and down the passageway.  Every time the first mate went by the door the captain stopped talking. He’d hear those footsteps and he’d stop in mid sentence and wouldn’t keep going until the fellow was gone again. I realized, then, that the captain was afraid of his first mate.  “I thought that you were the captain of this ship,” I said.

“I am,” he bristled.

“How does it come that every time the first mate goes by you stop talking?”

He didn’t have anything to say.

“You’re scared of him, aren’t you? You guys live in total fear.”

“That’s not true! “ But I could see in his eyes that it was.

As I went to leave he shook my hand. “Thanks for coming.”

“Can I . . .” I started to ask again if I could pass out the tracts but he cut me off.

“I’ve already told you that you can’t.” I might have been able to scatter a few around but I respected his position and didn’t.

Dennis and I went back to the guardhouse on our way out and the officer stared at us. “I don’t believe it! You haven’t been on that Russian ship for two hours?”

“That’s exactly where we’ve been.”

A month later the ship was back in port and I went back on board. He had a gift for me, a wooden Russian doll. That time he really opened up.  He even invited the first mate in to visit with us.

That was a clever thing. I talked directly to him, too.  In that way they couldn’t tell on each other. They both accepted copies of the Gospel of John.  I met the captain three or four times after that. I still have a gift he gave me at home; a silk banner that hung in his office. It was from his shipping company. I suppose it represented the government agency that he worked for. He took it off his wall and handed it to me.

With the changes in Russia that have come about in the last couple of years, the guy would really be open. I wish I could meet him again.  Jack McKie and I visited different lumber camps in the Miramichi area. I also spent a week on his trailer ministry at the Albert good ministry. He helped in our 263 camp work and visited a few times with me on reserves. He and his faithful wife, Vi, were good friends of ours.

* * *

Another unforgettable trip we had was when Bob and Darleen Steward and Cathy and I drove to Mistassini, Quebec to meet Ed Hickey, our pilot. We spent a night with Larry and Peggy Linton and from there we flew to Moosonee, Quebec where we would minister to the folks, both there and at Moose Factory. We had a wonderful time with the native believers and were made to feel very welcome.  From there we flew to Ruperts House, now Waskagonish, Quebec to visit with Dallas and Gloria Roberts.

Our visit to Waskagonish was pleasant as usual.  We enjoyed fellowshipping with the Roberts family and the Christians in the village. Alice Jacobs, Annie Whiskeychan, Sydney and Agnes Georgekish and many other folks in that village have been a real blessing to us and we always look forward to seeing them.

On our way back to Mistassini, we few into some bad weather and had to turn back. Seeing a trapper’s camp situated by a lake, and one that Ed Hickey had visited before, we decided to drop down there and wait out the storm. Landing on the lake proved to be a bit chancy when we realized that under the snow there was water and our plane was about to get mired in it.  Upon seeing this, our pilot quickly powered the engine and was able to get us to a dry spot.  The Jolly family wasted no time coming to meet us.  They seemed so pleased to have visitors. It had been three months since they had moved there from the village. They invited us into their tent which was neatly furnished with the bare necessities. A barrel stove sat in the center with the pipe straight up through an opening at the top, blocks of wood for chairs, wooden boxes for cupboards, a blue trunk and a single bed in one corner. The floor was covered with pine boughs which they were careful to change almost every day so that sparks from the stove wouldn’t ignite them. Moose 264 meat and arctic char hung neatly at one end. Mrs. Jolly quickly began to prepare supper. The two daughters went for water and wood to stoke up the stove. With her axe, Mrs. Jolly quickly chopped off a good supply of moose meat. Then she got out the flour and raisins and mixed a good batch of bannock. From the trunk one of the girls brought out a new tablecloth and some candles. The cloth was spread on the floor and soon a beautiful meal was spread on the pine bough floor before us. Never has moose meat and bannock tasted so good. The family sat back and waited while their guests ate, then they partook of the leftovers. Native culture can be so gracious and unselfish.  After the meal was over and dishes cleaned up, we enjoyed some games together and were able to talk about the Lord. I got out my Cree New Testament and read to the folks before retiring for the night and had a time of prayer.  We were wall to wall people as we spread out our sleeping bags on the pine boughs. Their son, who had been out to college, was the only one with a bed.  The first night we found it to be a little cold. It was 30 below outside. Someone must have mentioned they were cold because the next night it was quite different.Wanting their guests to be warm, the Jollys made sure the fire was well stoked. About 2:00 a.m.  we were awake from the heat and someone was up feeding the fire again. In the process they stepped on the dog’s tail and he let a few loud yelps out, then the cover of the stove slipped from the fire builder’s hand and hit the stove then the floor. Yelp, clang, bang!  Needless, to say all nine of us were wide awake by now. Cathy and I got laughing so hard we had to bury our heads in our sleeping bags. Darleen whispered, “You crazy guys.”

The following morning the sky began to clear and we were hopeful it would be good flying weather. We were unable to make radio contact with the outside so no one knew where we were. This was a concern to us. By 10.00 our pilot was ready to take off, but we knew that getting off the lake with our load would be impossible. The Jolly’s son and I drove back and forth with the snowmobile making a path for the plane.

Since Cathy and I were friends with the Lintons, we were chosen to make the first flight and we could visit until the Stewards arrived. When we reached Mistassini we made a quick trip to the Hudson’s Bay Store and bought candles, raisins, chocolate bars and whatever else we thought the Jollys might need and sent them back with Ed. Soon the Stewards arrived and we were on our way by car back to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. We shall never forget the hospitality shown us by the Jolly family. It was an experience we would not want to have missed.  Mistassini is another village we have enjoyed visiting from time to time. The Christians there have been a blessing to us and we have so much appreciated their love and fellowship.

Traveling

I’ve canoed some mighty rivers,
And broken wild horses.
I’ve ridden train and bus and plane,
And played golf on different courses.

I’ve slept in tents and cabins,
In an igloo ‘neath the stars;
I slept in trucks and wagons,
And even slept in cars.

The Lord has blessed in many ways,
The half I cannot tell.
Besides the places that He leads,
He has saved my soul from Hell.

My cabin of boys at Montrose, PA.	At Holmes Lake Bible Camp.

Cathy's Dad and Stepmother.	Our family at Newcastle, NB.