Janette Oke (3 page)

So when Maggie was in her late fifties and Burt seventy-three, they suddenly found themselves with young children under foot again.

Burt, now “Grandpa Gray,” found it easier to leave the youngsters to Maggie's care and meet with his Civil War buddies at the local jail. In the clubroom they played cards and reminisced about the “good old days.”

Maggie, alone with all six children, often was forced to muster all the stamina her small stature could offer. She was not above using unexpected means of ensuring that her charges did not take advantage of her. Stories of her eccentricities abounded.

She is said to have wielded a hoe as she chased a neighbor girl away from baby Ross. The girl had whooping cough and Ross was a sickly infant, likely to catch whatever came along, so Maggie defended him with whatever she happened to be holding. On another occasion, she scolded young Leone with the threat of hanging her on a roller towel, and she chased eleven-year-old Amy with a pitchfork after the young girl firmly declared, “I won't do chores for anybody when I'm sixteen, not even my dad!” And when two of the boys climbed up the windmill to escape a spanking from her, she stubbornly sat at the bottom until they came down.

Grandma Gray was clearly not a woman to be trifled with, but there are an equal number of stories told about her total selflessness and generosity. She gave freely of all she had.

Finally, Archie and Vi were able to build their own little house on an acreage that Edward purchased shortly after returning to Osakis in 1912. It was small, with only one room, but Archie was proud of his accomplishment and his own ingenuity. There were built-in beds that folded against the wall during the day—a marvelous space-saving idea—and Archie had soon dubbed it the “dear little shack.”

Vi had different feelings toward it, and as much as she appreciated the efforts of her husband, she found it humiliating to bring guests there. She was pleased that winters would still be spent in a cabin at Idlewilde, since the “dear little shack” could not be kept warm enough to live in.

In 1916, Vi's sister Lily and her husband, Jasper Root, decided to follow brother Irv's example, and they struck out for Champion, Alberta, to work with Irv on the Guess Ranch. The ranch was owned by Harry Guess, a millionaire from New York, who had purchased four sections on the Canadian prairie. Vi felt the loss of her sister's company deeply. Even the new three-bedroom home that Archie had recently built did little to ease her sorrow.

Since Archie was also feeling the draw to settle on the Canadian prairies, it was decided that the family would board the train for the new “promised land.” Burt Gray decided to go north as well and plans were laid for him to go on ahead while Maggie stayed to help Vi with the children on the train trip. Baby Wayne had now joined the family.

One after the other, the clan was moving into Alberta and leaving Osakis behind. Idlewilde was left in the care of Edward, Amy, and the sons who remained. Then the resort suffered a difficult setback. Edward had hired a young mentally handicapped boy from a needy family in order to provide him with employment. The lad was injured in an accident on the property, and Edward, the lawyer, had let his insurance lapse. The boy's family sued, and Edward was forced to mortgage the property to meet the debt. He was unable to recover, and when he died in 1936, the other sons signed their shares of Idlewilde over to the remaining brother, who continued to work the resort. Soon after Edward's death, his wife, Amy, died as well.

After a three-day train trip, Archie's family arrived in Champion, Alberta, and drove the remainder of the way to Guess Ranch. It was March—and cold—and the roads were so bad that their two loaded cars had to be repeatedly pushed up the hills. When they finally arrived at the ranch, excitement seemed to burst from inside them.

At last Archie and Vi were together again with Jasper and Lil. Cousins, who had missed one another dearly, raced through the small home, shouting greetings and embracing. Jasper and Lil, Archie and Vi hugged and cried, laughed and danced around the small kitchen, the happy noises spilling into the cold night air of the Alberta prairie.

For three years the families worked side by side at the Guess Ranch. Then, the wander bug bit Archie again, and the Ruggles clan moved away from the area. In 1922 they returned to the prairie, having saved enough money to be able, at last, to purchase their own section of land.

Section 35 held a two-bedroom house and a granary. Into these two buildings Archie and Vi's seven children and Jasper and Lil's eight were squeezed. Small bodies lay crosswise on beds at night, some even sleeping in the granary. They came to be known as the “thirty-five kids” after the land's section number—and it must have seemed to a neighbor passing in his wagon as though nearly that many children were swarming over the farmyard.

Living together provided many challenging times, but also plenty of opportunities for laughter. One evening when a child was noticed to have sleepy, drooping eyes, his mother told him to “go sleep with Gordon,” a young member of the Root family. After this child had gone, another was sent along in hopes that there was still some room in the bed.

Then it was discovered that both mothers had been sending youngsters to squeeze in with poor little Gordon. When they realized what they had been doing they shared a good laugh, not sure just how many children were now crowded obediently into the small bed. “Go sleep with Gordon” quickly became a family catchphrase, repeated often, and “Gordon” came to mean anyone who had a little room to spare.

The fifteen children from teens to tots soon expanded to twenty-three, but the two families had finally put down roots. Archie took over the manager's position at Guess Ranch and added three more sons—Bob, Dorn, and Harry—making a total of seven sons and three daughters for him and Vi.

As these humble years passed, Janette's mother, Amy, grew from a young girl to an attractive and assertive teen. We are told that she always possessed a cheery attitude and a great compassion for others. And it seems there was more than one young man in the neighborhood who had his eye on her. After due courting, she accepted the proposal from one of her suitors—even though another young gentleman stood shyly on the sideline wishing he had been more courageous. But, for reasons she has not divulged, Amy's first engagement was broken, and she was soon accepting calls from the quieter youth.

Amy Ruggles and Fred Steeves were married on November 26, 1925, in the dining room at the Guess Ranch, and the whole community was invited. Her father, Archie, provided his best turkeys; then Vi and her helpers prepared the dinner.

At the last minute an elderly neighbor lady let it be known that she had no transportation to get to the “gala” affair, and so the wedding was delayed while Vi, big-hearted as always, sent one of her sons over the dusty prairie miles to bring back the woman, while the bride, groom, and all the wedding guests waited patiently. When the son returned, he was alone. It seemed the woman had decided to stay home. So the wedding finally proceeded.

Fred and Amy Steeves were given a fine celebration for the start of their marriage—and also lovely wedding gifts from those who loved them. The Guess Ranch's millionaire owner himself sent Amy and Fred a card with a generous sum of $50 as a wedding gift. In those days it went far toward helping the young couple get started.

Fred and Amy spent the earliest days of their marriage in the community where they had been wed. Family surrounded them, as well as neighbors they had known for years. Among these delightful friends were the McCombs, who knew the Lord and often attempted to share their faith. This family prayed faithfully and diligently for their Ruggles neighbors, and their prayers were eventually answered. Over the years, one by one, the family members made personal prayers of commitment. Archie and Vi, along with their children from Royal to young Harry, at some point made his or her peace with God.

And so it is that even Janette's earliest recollections are of a family where God was honored and served, and individuals were concerned about sharing Him with others. One of her treasured memories is of Archie and Vi, her elderly grandparents, having their daily Bible reading and prayer time together.

Never has she known of anyone who seemed to know, pray for, and host more missionaries than her Grandmother Vi Ruggles. After her passing, a scrapbook filled with the pictures of her many missionary friends was found among her possessions.

As for Janette's parents, Amy realized her own need for a relationship with God while her children were very young, but Fred allowed many precious years to slip by him before he offered his heart to the Savior.

Chapter Three

New Life

In the first years of their marriage, Fred and Amy Steeves moved frequently from one prairie location to another. And their family began to grow, first with the birth of Betty, then Jean, followed by June, and finally in 1931, a first son, Jack. Amy was delighted at the arrival of her second son in the fall of 1933, but it soon became evident that Kenneth was not well, and there was an aura of suspended fear in the family home. Grandma Vi and Grandpa Archie, as well as Aunt Lil, arrived to help.

Amy wept with them, fighting the hopeless feeling inside her and the realization that she was powerless to stop her worst fears from occurring. Kenneth was with the family for only eight days before he died. His tiny coffin was buried in the Lomond cemetery and was soon joined by that of great-grandmother Maggie Gray, who died the following month.

Dealing with the death of her infant was a very difficult process for Amy. For many days she struggled with her own emotions, trying to bring her life back into focus and drive away the hopelessness that she could not overcome.

At last, feeling that she could not stand her grief any longer, she climbed the loft ladder of the farmyard barn and threw herself down onto the hay. The weight of her enormous grief had finally taken her to the end of her strength, and, in her desperation, she cried out to God, whom she had always believed existed but did not personally know.

“Oh, God,” she prayed, “if you're really there—do something for me.”

God did hear Amy's prayer, and though perhaps she could not have explained her experience at the time, she left the barn loft a new person. The God of creation was now her God, and with His help she was ready to go on—and to begin her growth in the Christian faith.

Two years after this monumental experience, Amy found herself again faced with the possibility of losing a child. Baby Janette brought back to Amy all the trauma and pain she had faced with the loss of Kenneth. As the sun began its morning glow over the snowy fields of the Canadian prairie, Amy wept alone. This time she was certain that the God she had chosen to serve would hear her plea, but she fought with her desire to insist that He save this baby.

Over and over in her mind she wrestled with how to pray. She wanted to demand, but she knew this was not what her Lord wanted from her. Finally she realized that she did not need to be afraid of letting go. Through her sobs she placed herself and then the fragile life of her infant daughter into the hands of a loving God. At last she felt peace and understood afresh that her heavenly Father was in control of the situation and that she could rest and allow Him to accomplish His purposes, whatever they might be.

“Not my will, but thine be done,” she whispered in the stillness.

Gradually the condition of the tiny baby improved. With the advice of those around her, Amy took Janette off breast milk and placed her on condensed milk, an expensive commodity and difficult to obtain in those days. But the baby continued to gain in health and strength, and was duly fussed over by three older sisters and a brother.

Amy found herself often murmuring prayers of thankfulness as she watched the cheeks grow round and the little arms and legs fill out. She had learned much about the love of God through these difficult times, and her own desire to continue to grow in faith strengthened. In many ways she felt that she, too, was a child, just beginning life under the watchful eye of her heavenly Father.

Fred and Amy Steeves were now raising five children and busy with the activities of farm life. Though it was the mid-thirties and there was never any extra money, they were always able to provide in some way for their family's needs. The youngsters grew quickly, but not without the occasional near-catastrophe that accompanies childhood. Amy found herself again thanking God for being near her children when she could not. And with the comforting distance of time, the family had many good times of laughter in reminiscing over some of those events.

While Janette was a toddler the Steeves family lived along a winding prairie river. It was normally neither a deep nor wide stream. In fact, during times of drought it was all that the little river could manage just to keep on flowing. But in spring flood time it could be a different story.

During one of these periods, the older children were sent to bring in the milk cows. Unknown to them, their little sister Janette decided that she would go too and toddled along after them, carrying a small red ball.

She hadn't gone far when the ball slipped from her hands and went rolling down the riverbank into the swollen stream. Crying out over her lost toy, she ran after it, sliding down the bank, anxious to retrieve the ball that now bobbed along in the current.

Perhaps there would have been no one to tell what really happened had someone not come upon her shortly after, her clothes hooked securely on a prairie cactus, still crying for the ball that had floated downstream.

Another favorite childhood story involved the farm windmill. Every prairie farm had a windmill—a tall, open structure with a ladder hung precariously on one side. Many mothers worried about those windmills, for farm youngsters couldn't seem to stay away from them.

Bill Meikle, a neighbor, enjoyed repeating the story of a very young Janette coming into the house and imploring the adults, “You come turn Margie 'wound?” When they went to see what she meant, there was baby sister, Margie, barely able to walk, dangerously high on the windmill ladder—unable to go on up or come back down.

On the many occasions when the children were bundled into the farm wagon and taken to visit cousins, aunts and uncles, they could hardly contain their excitement. Equally thrilling was the sound of someone else's wagon pulling into the Steeves' yard. The older children would tumble out of the house or race from the farmyard to find out who had arrived and whether or not anyone young enough to play with had come along.

Family meals at Grandma and Grandpa Ruggles' house were “affairs.” The men filled the long table in the “cook car”—a once-portable kitchen that had been attached to the house to give extra room. Children were given plates of food and then lined up on the floor along the wall, where they balanced dinner on their laps. It was a little hard to tell if the women were ever able to sit down with the men or if they ate their dinner after the rest were fed, but no one complained. It was so good to be with family, and the adults mostly smiled indulgently at all the happy commotion from the youngsters.

But Grandpa Archie Ruggles seemed a bit gruff to the young ones. They were careful not to cross him, though they were still drawn to him by his obvious love and dry sense of humor. Staying in his home at the time of the birth of younger sister Margie, Janette had just turned two and jabbered and prattled constantly, trying to get her grandpa's attention.

At last he exclaimed in his wry-humor way, “Awe, go dry up.”

In a moment she returned with a towel, busily rubbing it against herself, and declared, “There, Grandpa. Me all dried up.” The adults roared with laughter, and Grandpa Ruggles figured he'd been bested by a two-year-old.

On another visit when the day was hot and dusty on the prairie, Janette and a cousin close in age decided the best place to be was in the icehouse. There, large blocks of ice were buried in coal slack to keep them frozen through summer days. Since the black dust was damp and dirty, the two children decided they would be better off setting their clothes aside. They carefully removed the garments and then proceeded to dig in the cool playroom.

When they had tired of their little game, they emerged—much to the shock and consternation of their mothers. Blue eyes shone out from little black bodies covered from head to foot with coal dust.

On another occasion, Janette and cousin Richard Steeves decided to explore his father's newly acquired automobile. Jack went into the house, leaving the toddlers bouncing in the backseat.

As it happened, eggs in cartons were also left on the backseat where they were playing. When the excitement of bouncing wore off, they discovered the eggs and set about cooking up some further fun. By the time they were discovered, they had scrambled eggs all over the seat and couldn't understand why Uncle Jack was so upset.

One of the most ordinary creatures on the prairie is the Richardson ground squirrel—usually called gophers locally. Since they were a plague to all farmers, every attempt was made to preserve the few crops that did grow by controlling these animals whenever possible. Farmers shot them, some were poisoned, but even the children were allowed to help when it was time to drown the gophers. The youngsters ran through the fields carrying pails of water to dump down innumerable holes.

Too young to carry water, Janette hurried to follow her older siblings as they rushed into the dry fields. A hot wind blew across her small face and swept on across the bare brown prairie, snatching the sounds of the children's voices and carrying the words off toward the endless horizon to be lost among the drifting clouds. Amid the hustle and confusion of the moment, one small child hurried after the others, trying to share in their excitement, taking it all in. This gopher hunt is Janette's earliest memory of prairie life.

She does not remember the dust, the need, or the difficulty at times in putting a meal on the table. In her childhood memories she does not see her father struggling to make a farm produce when the wind blew the prairie soil across his path in clouds of dust so thick the ears of the horses he was driving were hidden, nor does she recall her mother feeding the family another meal of cottontail-rabbit stew. She has only heard about her father being reluctant to stand in food lines and, instead, setting off to work on a government project building an irrigation ditch, or her mother shaking the dust from the bed covers before tucking the little ones in at night.

She knew nothing at the time of all those hardships. It was her parents who shouldered the burden to worry and struggle for the family. And Fred and Amy soon realized that something had to be done. The stubborn skies refused to give up moisture. The forlorn fields were unable to sustain growth. Because of those conditions, the government urged farmers to move their families farther north, where it had not forgotten how to rain.

Fred and Amy realized they must make a decision, but it would not be easy. So many members of their family lived nearby on the prairie. On both sides their families had roots that reached deep into the prairie soil.