Opinion

The past month has been indescribably hard for many here in Saskatchewan. I refer, of course, to the savage happenings on James Smith Cree Nation, and also touching nearby Weldon, which involved the violent deaths of 12 people and injury to another 18.

In this very sad story, a lesson has been about the vibrancy of the spirit of First Nations people.

As I read the annals of the kings of Israel in Chronicles, the length of the timeline gets lost on me. Only a few pages before I was reading the account of David, followed by a few pages for Solomon. Then Scripture starts flying through subsequent kings whose reigns are often summed up in a chapter or two.

My family and I entered a new chapter this past week.

Shortly after our fourth child was born, I stepped away from my career as a nurse to focus on our family and our family farm.

I was in Ottawa recently for the anniversary of the church that my parents started 50 years ago. In 1972, we were five families eager to start a new—and different—church in the east end of Ottawa. I was the oldest child among the five families, sometimes the babysitter for the others, and sometimes with the adults in creating a new church.

In an episode of the television show The Simpsons, Homer complimented his boss, Mr. Burns, on being the richest person he knew. Mr Burns replied, “Ah yes, but I’d trade it all away. . . for a little more.”

This fall is unlike any fall in my memory. As a new Mennonite pastor, I am entering this fall listening to the hearts and minds of the congregation at Foothills Mennonite Church and helping discern how our church lives faithfully within our neighbourhood and beyond.

This summer, I attended two family reunions separated by one week. The Olferts, my paternal family, gathered at Pike Lake for several days, while the Warkentins, the maternal side, met a week later at Shekinah, a church camp near my home.

Sometimes I wish God would indisputably appear in some fantastically obvious way, eliminating my wrestling, struggling and doubt.

On July 30, my brother was getting married in Williston, N.D., and I was the officiant. It was a lovely celebration, with little kids taking over the dance floor at the reception, and I’m delighted to have my brother’s partner join the family.

Point: Teachers are fallible, but God can use them
Over the past decades, as a “dyed-in-the-wool” Anabaptist Mennonite, I have come to value the teaching/preaching of several “new Anabaptists.”

“All beginnings are hard” said J.J. Thiessen. He began his public ministry in 1930 in Saskatoon, hired by the General Conference Mennonite Church to operate the Maedchenheim, helping young women find work and providing spiritual guidance, and to give leadership to the emerging congregation in Saskatoon.