SOPHIA - Canadian Conference of Mennonite Brethren Churches

SOPHIA
W I S D 0 M
Say to Wisdom, "You are my sister."
Proverbs 7:4a
VOLUME 9 • NUMBER 3

SOPHIA
A Greek feminine noun associated
with the biblical wisdom tradition,
translated Uwisdom" and personified
in the book of ProveIbs; equivalent
in the New Thstament to logos, the
creative word that was with God in
the beginning, creating and giving
life to the world.
SOPHIA is published four times a
year by Sophia Wisdom, Inc.
No part may be reproduced by any
means without written permission.
Publisher Ester DeFehr
Editor Lori Matties
Editorial Committee
Agnes Dyck, Debra Fieguth
Lis Vensel, Lorie Battershill
Helga Doermer
Circulation Hanny Labun
Layout/Design
Darrell Dyck, Pegasus Design
Printing
Regehr's Printing Ltd.
Sophia Board
Willa Reddig - chair
Ester DeFehr - ctrehair
Susan Brandt - ctrehair
Jane Woelk - secretary
Esther Reimer - treasurer
Christine Enns, Hanny Labun
Subscription Rates
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$4 single issue
Outside Canada
$18 for 4 issues. $30 for 8 issues
Please address subscription forms,
correspondence and manuscripts to:
SOPHIA
p.o. Box 28062
1795 Henderson Hwy.
Winnipeg, MB R3G 4E9
fax: (204) 668-2527
e-mail: lmattieS@escape.ca
phone: (204) 339-5668
Don't miss our next issue!
Remaining 1999 themes include:
December - Volunteerism

,a, couple of years ago, the
editorial collective of Sophia
made a decision to produce one issue
per year from a different region in
Canada. We wanted to find ways to
get to know our sisters from across
the country and to broaden our
understanding of what it means to be
faithful in this vast geography. So, in
October 1998, we published our first
"regional" edition, put together by a
group of women from British Columbia.
The response to that issue was gratifying.
Not only were we able to read
excellent stories and wisdom from
women in B.C., but we also made
new connections with our sisters
there that we hope we can find ways
to keep alive. Even this summer,
when I was visiting family and
friends in Abbotsford, several women
made a point of telling me how much
they enjoy Sophia, and particularly
how they enjoyed the "B.C."
issue. Their comments were very
encouraging.
This is our second regional
edition, coming to us this time from
Ontario. Many thanks to Linda
Huebert Hecht and Nancy Fehderau
(pictured above) who worked hard to
collect the articles and many of the
photos for this issue. It is a privilege
to hear from our sisters in Ontario
and to learn from their experiences as
they share them with us. I am always
delighted and grateful to see how the
wisdom of God is revealed to the
women and men who write for Sophia
and is generously shared with us, the
readers. About how this issue came
--...
together, Linda writes:
--
L ; ~
EDITORIA :,~
How This Issue Came to Be
by Lori Matties
In January when Lori Matties's inquiry
came about whether women in Ontario
could do an issue for Sophia I was
recovering from a shattered ankle. I
shared the request with Nancy
Fehderau, one of my dear friends who
helped me on the road to recovery. Out
of our conversation a theme arose:
"Unrevealed until its season, Something
God alone can see' - words from the
Worship 7bgether hymn (#638) that
inspired us. But it looked like an onerous
task! Slowly, however, ideas for various
articles and writers took shape.
Nancy did much of the work, making
initial contacts, interviewing women,
writing up their stories and in general
monitoring the progress as we
went along. It has been a joy and
inspiration for me to work with Nancy
on this issue.
The articles reflect various types
of journeys experienced by women of
different ages and time periods, from
sixteenth-century Anabaptist housewives
who endured arrest and imprisonment
to the modem day grandmother turned
hostess in a tearoom. They include the
experiences of younger women and older
women, all learning to deal with things
hidden and things revealed - who are,
as Lori Schmidt explains, in the process
of becoming what God intended them to
be. The seasons in nature seem to
mirror the seasons of our own lives. Let
us learn from each other and see what
new and hidden things God has yet to
reveal to us. Even though the fall season
is now upon us, as the title of hymn 638
states, ''In the Bulb there is a Flower, 1/
buried for a time beneath the sUrface
but waiting to bloom in its proper
season.
Thank you, Linda and Nancy, and to
all of those who contributed to
another fine issue!
Lori Matties
FALL 1999 3

.i -.
FROM THE SOURCE
Seasons of Becoming
by Lori Schmidt
&Ill a chaplain ministering in a
psychiatric hospital, I am
witness to the pain and turmoil of
many women. I hear their stories of
transitions, losses, crises, deprivation,
broken relationships and broken
dreams. I help them address their
addictions, depressions, disorders and
illnesses which often stem from past
trauma and unresolved grief. A
common thread for all of them is loss
of self. Who am I now? What is my
reason for living? How can I find
meaning and happiness in life?
Where is God in the midst of my suffering?
Their questions and stories
also resemble our own, and we discover
we are no different.
As Christian women, we are not
exempt from the upheaval and pain
that life brings. Our challenge is,
"How can we continue becoming all
that God intended us to be?" Frances
Roberts writes, "I want your life and
character and personality to be as
beautiful and lovely as I visualized it
to be when I created you. Much has
not developed perfectly. Some early
beauty has been marred. Live close to
Me, and let Me re-mold and re-create
until I see in thee the image of all I
want thee to be" (Come Away My
Beloved, The King's Press, 1970, plSl).
It is our soul's calling that we
fulfill the purpose for which we came.
If we do not heed the whisperings
that God sends us, the soul then
increases the volume until the shouting
gets so loud that our body breaks
down and we become ill (Thnis Helliwell,
Thke Your Soul to Work:
Transform Your Life and Work. Random
House of Canada, 1999, p 30).
We then experience emotional
and spiritual suffering. In order to
4 SOPHIA / WISDOM
live out our purpose we may need to
eliminate former ways of being,
coping and thinking that are "found
in the cellular memory of the body.
If these negative programs are not
eliminated, they sabotage our efforts
to fully manifest our potential"
(Helliwell, pp 29,30).
fJ have found these seasons
to be pivotal and sacred.
Mary Graham writes,
Isn't it interesting that we are
products of our early years? If
someone is consistently lied to
as a child, he will have diffi­
CUlty trusting as an adult. If one
is molested in childhood, she
will not easily experience intimacy
as an adult. If abandoned
as a child, it is very hard to
experience security in adult
relationships.
Unwilling to let His
children stay trapped in those
liabilities, the Lord often
engineers circumstances to
reveal deep needs and provides
people and insight to cause
healing and growth (''A Longing
to Be Accepted" in Vonette
Zachary Bright, ed. The Greatest
Lesson I've Ever Learned. Here's
Life Publishers, 1990, p 92).
During a time of soul searching
and prayer, I received a promise from
God. "He [the Lord] will make your
righteousness shine like the dawn,
the justice of your cause like the
noonday sun" (Psalm 37:6 NIV). In
her book Free to Dream, Neva Coyle
states that the word "make" refers to a
change in the deepest part of a person.
Referring to the passage in
Matthew 4:19, "Come, follow me, and
I will make you fishers of men," she
writes,
The word "make" also refers to a
dramatic change from what was
before. As we commit ourselves
to God ... God does a work deep
within us, molding us into His
design not by external force but
by internal change.
Jesus is saying, "Come,
follow Me. Commit your way to
Me, and by a work I will do
deep within you, you shali
become something you
were not before (Free to Dream.
Bethany House, 1990,
pp 101,102).
The journey toward growth,
healing and transformation requires
hard work. It may be frightening and
confusing. It means going inward,
reflecting and listening to the pain,
anger and clamour within our soul.
We may need healing from past hurts
or wounds. We may experience
confrontation of misdeeds and
unhealthy behaviours. We may gain
new meaning and self-awarenesses
for a richer life. We may receive a
clarity of our soul's longings resulting
in new directions.
There is a timing for this inward
journey. Often it isn't until we've
been faced with a crisis or felt the
stirring of an inner restlessness. It
requires an emotional readiness and
thus, often surfaces in mid-life,

although it may occur at any time of
our lives. Wisdom teaches us that
when the student is ready, the
teacher will appear.
On this path women may
encounter the following seasons, each
bringing its own challenge. In my
experience, I have found these
seasons to be pivotal and sacred as
God journeys with and guides us into
the fullness of our being.
1. Season of Weeping
In the garden, Jesus tenderly asks
Mary Magdalene, "Woman, why are
you weeping?" (In 20:15). In the
same way, God is also attentive to
our tears, our pain and sorrow. God
acknowledges our significant loss,
unexpected change, or spiritual
restlessness. God invites the expression
of our tears, collecting them in a
bottle and recording every one of
them in a book (Ps 58:8). Our crisis
and feelings are validated.
2. Season of Shedding
Jesus responded to the woman
caught in adultery, "Neither do I
condemn you!/I (In 8:11). With acceptance,
encouragement and hope,
Jesus freed her from her shame.
We need to discover what keeps us
from growing (Joyce Rupp. Dear
Heart, Come Home: The Path of Midlife
Spirituality. The Crossroad Pub., 1998,
p 108). We may need to shed feelings
of guilt and shame or preconceived
beliefs in a punitive, distant God. We
may even need to shed the masks of
"being nice" and "looking good" or
the games we play of manipulation
and control. These are the parts of
ourselves we may need to lose in
order to find a new life (Mt 10:39). If
not, we sacrifice our true selves and
become disconnected with God at
work within us.
3. Season of Darkness
In her darkest hour of despair and
hopelessness, Hagar feared the loss
of her son in the heat of the barren
desert. Though a seemingly insignificant
slave, God heard her cry and
promised that her son's descendants
would become a great nation (Gen
21:18). We too may experience a
gradual dying of our spirit when we
feel empty, devalued or invisible.
Continued on page 6 ~
FALL 1999 5

It can be frightening in the unknown
lifeless wilderness of deep shadow
and disorder, where even the light is
like darkness (Job 10:21,22).Yet there
God is still with us (Is 43:1-5).
4. Season of Listening
Jesus praised Mary for taking the
time to listen (Lk 10:38-42). We are so
often praised for our "doing" that we
seldom feel valued for our "being."
Sometimes we are forced to a season
of stillness and listening when the
busyness of our life comes to a halt
(Ps. 48:10). We have also become so
programmed to listen to the voices of
others that our own voice goes
unheard. Regardless of what life
brings us, God still speaks in the
chaos, uncertainty or stillness. Listen.
T'rre journey toward
growth, healing
and transformation
requires hard work.
5. Season of Self-Care
Mary needed emotional and spiritual
support after the angel informed her
of the pregnancies she and Elizabeth
would experience. Needing someone
to talk to who would understand and
share in her news, she hurried to the
home of Elizabeth. Often we are so
busy reaching out, serving and giving
to others that we neglect to nurture
ourselves physically, emotionally,
socially, mentally, recreationally and
spiritually. Thinking we are gaining
merit in God's sight by constantly
caring for others, we actually become
frustrated and angry when our own
needs go unmet. We forget that we
are to love others as we love ourselves
(Mt 19:19). Even Jesus took time for
self-care when he sent people away
so he could have time to be alone and
pray (Mt 14:23).
6 SOPHIA / WISDOM
6. Season of Launching
The Shunamite woman was a woman
of action. After her God-given son had
died, she called her aging husband,
"Please send me one of the servants
and a donkey so I can go to the man
of God quickly and return .... " Th her
servant she said, "Lead on; don't slow
down for me unless I tell you" (2 Ki
4:22,24). Rather than waiting for the
go-ahead from others, we too can
exercise courage, take the risk and
initiative to fulfill a task that moves
us with passion. We need to realize
the power and authoritative potential
God gives us. The call is also for us, "I
say to you, arise!" (Mk 5:41).
7. Season of Revelation
Who would have ever suspected that
a prostitute, Mary of Bethany, would
be chosen to provide pastoral and
palliative care for Jesus (Mk 14:3-9)?
It was love that motivated her to
break the expensive bottle of perfume
and anoint Jesus in preparation for
his burial.
Our journey toward transformation
and revelation does not come
without cost and struggle. Perhaps we
have received healing from past hurts
or forgiveness for past wrongs. Perhaps
we have come to understand
ourselves and others with fresh
awareness and become open to new
directions. Perhaps it is the season of
fruition, when we can experience
wholeness in the present moment.
Just as the fragrance of the perfume
became known through the broken
bottle, so too, the true essence of our
spirit can be poured out and revealed
through our brokenness.
When I was at seminary about
ten years ago, I heard a gentleman
address the women who were present.
He stated that our churches
were not currently ready for the full
usage of women and their gifts. He
encouraged us to give the churches
time. In the meantime, he instructed
the women to prepare themselves in
the areas of their strengths, so that
when the churches were ready, we
would already be equipped. I received
a personal challenge from him that
day.
Where are you in the process of
becoming? Will you join me in taking
up the challenge to travel deeper
through the seasons of your own journey?
Thke hope and courage,
For the revelation awaits an
appointed time;
it speaks of the end
and will not prove false.
Though it linger, wait for it;
it will certainly come and will not delay
Habakkuk 2:3 (NIV).
...........................
Lori Schmidt is a chaplain at the
Homewood Health Centre in Guelph,
Ont. In addition to her Master of
Divinity from MBBS, she has recently
graduated from Wilfrid Laurier
University with a Master of Theology in
Pastoral Counselling. She is a licensed
minister and is a member of the
Kitchener Mennonite Brethren Church.

Seasons of Blessings
by Olga Enns with Nancy Fehderau
V y ~
,.. Jry'life began in May 1917, in the German Mennonite
village of Tiegenhof in the Ukraine of
southern Russia. I was the only girl in a family
of three boys. By the time I was six, war, revolution,
hardships and famine threatened to destroy our idyllic
existence. Many of our people chose to leave everything
behind and emigrate to a new land.
Canada had opened its doors to these immigrants,
and my parents had decided to emigrate. The last hurdle in
the process was to pass the required medical examination.
Unfortunately, I was found to have trachoma, an eye
disease that needed treatment before I would be allowed to
leave. My parents had already sold everything. Their group
was scheduled to depart shortly. This was an unexpected,
agonizing dilemma.
It was decided that I would stay behind with my
grandparents until my eyes were healed. So in 1924 my
family left. Later that year, I was able to join friends who
journeyed in another group of refugees that, as it turned
out, was the last group given permission to leave Russia at
that time. What a pivotal event in my life! Looking back
one wonders, "What if ... ?/1
Canada was the land of freedom and opportunity.
Kitchener became my new home. I attended school but left
in the middle of high-school to work in various local shirt
factories. In my early 20s I attended Winkler Bible School
for a year and after that a local business college. I worked
in various business offices in the city.
Church ministry was very important to me. I taught a
teen-age girls' Sunday school class. Many summers were
spent teaching Vacation Bible School locally and in outlying
districts for the Ontario MB conference. I didn't let any
grass grow under my feet and didn't have any time for the
"dating game./1
In my 30s I went on a Mennonite Central Committee
assignment to Uruguay. Uruguay and Paraguay had
opened their doors to immigrants, and many Polish and
Danzig Mennonites who had been waiting in German
refugee camps found their way to South America. I was in
charge of a refugee centre in Montevideo, where these
newly arrived immigrants were received, hosted and
assisted with the many problems of relocation in a foreign
country. I also conducted an evening Bible study once a
week for the young immigrant women who worked in the
city. Often men attended, too, in spite of the fact that I,
a woman, was teaching. What a character-molding
experience!
Upon returning to Canada in 1953, I found employment
at the Canada 'llust Company where I enjoyed 27
years of challenging and satisfYing work in the Securities
Department. Evenings and Saturdays found me in the role
of church secretary. I was church librarian for many years
and served on several committees. I enjoyed being part of
the Women's Missionary Service and had the privilege of
being the group's president for almost 25 years. In 1940 I
helped organize the Women's Missionary Service of the MB
Conference of Ontario. It was an honour to serve as treasurer
of the executive and help plan for its annual
meetings. I have only missed one rally in all these years.
It was important for me to broaden my horizons
beyond Mennonite Brethren boundaries, so I joined the
Stonecroft Christian Women's Club. It only offered a daytime
program, and since many women were only free to
meet in the evenings, a new branch was formed, the Professional
and Christian Women's Club. I was on the
executive committee from the beginning and treasure
friendships made there.
The thought of retirement scared me. What would I
do with all my time? What would God reveal to me now, at
this season of my life? I had to keep myself busy. For three
years I volunteered in a classroom for developmentally
delayed children. Then Camp Crossroads, our Ontario MB
conference camp, provided the opportunity I needed. For
more than ten years I have worked in the camp office for
the entire eleven weeks of summer camp. Interaction with
staff and campers of all ages energizes me. It was there
that I was introduced to the computer, which I have welcomed
into my life. I look forward to getting on the
internet and exploring that world.
There have been trips as well - to Europe, to many
parts of North America, and, most memorably, to Israel.
This year I plan to travel by train across Canada and take a
cruise from Vancouver to Alaska. I have taken many of
these trips by myself, but I have always gathered friends
along the way.
Yes, I look back over my 82 years and see God
revealed in all the choices and opportunities that have
been mine. At this season of my life, I can still enjoy a
healthy body and mind. I am overwhelmed, deeply humbled
and grateful. Whatever God still has in store for me
will be good and exciting.
..........................................
Olga Enns continues to explore the seasons of her life from her
home base in Kitchener.
FALL 1999 7

2lnabaptist ~omm
Faith Hidden Until the
Time of Harvest
by Linda Huebert Hecht
~ he month of September signals a new season, a time
~to harvest summer's bounty and prepare for winter.
The changes in nature parallel the seasons of our lives. At
times the season of harvest brings the unexpected, something
hidden until its time has come. That is perhaps what
certain Anabaptist women felt who were arrested in the
Austrian region of Tirol in the fall of
1529. They had managed to keep their
new found faith hidden from the
authorities up to that time. The seed
of faith had been planted earlier and
they had known the risks involved in
being baptized as adults, that their
choice could lead them to prison and
away from their families. But now the
time had come to reveal their beliefs publicly to the world
as they knew it. Staunch and true, the majority of them did
not turn back, some ready to sacrifice all they had.
Altogether, the cases of twenty-five women were discussed
in the various reports from the different levels of
government (court records) during the fall of 1529. * For
most of these women it was the first time they were
arrested. The persecution of Anabaptists had begun
already in this region late in 1527, reaching a peak in the
Spring of 1528 with 33 arrests during the month of May
alone. A greater number of arrests took place in the spring
and the fall seasons. In winter it was harder for the authorities
to negotiate the hillsides and secluded valleys of this
region in order to apprehend people, and in summer farming
families were often absent from the villages while
grazing their animals on the higher slopes.
In total, more than 130 Anabaptist women were
accused of heresy during 1528, and in the following year
the number was almost as high, with 123 Anabaptist
women facing arrest. In the fall of 1529 the numbers were
again at a peak. Earlier that year Charles V had outlawed
Anabaptism throughout the Holy Roman Empire. Perhaps
this is why his brother Ferdinand, who ruled Austria, now
increased the persecution of the women and men who had
8 SOPHIA / WISDOM
9t times the season of harvest
brings the unexpected,
something hidden until its
time has come.
stepped outside the bounds of what he called 'the one holy
christian church! Choosing to be re-baptized as an adult on
the confession of your faith was not just unpopular in sixteenth
century Tirol, it was illegal and punishable by
death. Many of us have attended a number of baptisms.
But never do they carry the threat of arrest and a possible
martyr's death because of our beliefs,
at least not in Canada. Such were the
conditions under which our foremothers
joined the sixteenth century
Anabaptist Church.
Six times during September 1529
various groups of Anabaptist prisoners
included women. Space does not permit
us to discuss them all. A few
details concerning some of them must suffice.
The urgency of the harvest made it necessary to discuss
the case of Ursula Kuen on the first day of September,
1529. As the widow of Caspar, the silversmith, who already
had been executed as an Anabaptist, Ursula possessed
some property, which the government now had to appropriate
if they were to acquire the income from the crops in
the fields. Ursula was also an Anabaptist and had no intention
of relinquishing her faith. Moreover, she adamantly
declared that her two youngest daughters had not been
baptized as infants. Having made these declarations, it is
understandable that she fled from her home. She left
behind a house in the town of Rattenberg, a garden outside
the town and two of their workers. Her share of the property
would be passed on to her children, but her
whereabouts remained a mystery to the authorities. Perhaps
she joined other Anabaptist believers in the safety of
Moravia.
The testimonies of three women imprisoned in the
city of Hall near Innsbruck, dated September 7, revealed
significant details to the authorities about Anabaptist activities
near there. Katherina Praun, Dorothea Maler and Anna
Ochsentreiber (her husband likely herded oxen) were
found guilty, and while Katherina chose to recant, the

The above image is an adaptation of a printer's mark that
appeared in the original Dutch editions of the Martyrs Mirror,
the motto later translated from Latin into German and used in
German editions of the book. The originally male digger was
changed to a woman's figure in 1995 by poet Julia Kasdorf and
fashion designer Julie Musselman and was featured on T-shirts
produced for the Mennonite/Anabaptist women's history conference,
"The QJ,i.iet in the Land?H, in Millersville, Pennsylvania
in June of that year. The woman in the image was playfully
named Anna Baptist.
other two women were willing to sacrifice their lives for
their faith. (The details of their story are in the book,
Profiles of Anabaptist Women. * *)
A few days later, on September 11, instructions sent
from Rattenberg told the local authorities to question three
Anabaptist women, Peter Muellner's daughter (sister to a
blacksmith) and the wives of Christoff Gaerber and
Enngendeiner Schmied (her husband likely was also a
blacksmith). The orders specifically stated that the two
wives should be questioned separately regarding their
beliefs on the sacrament and whether they had attended a
service of 'breaking bread' as they called the Lord's Supper.
The following day, September 12, the same theme
was discussed with four other women. They were to be
questioned in front of witnesses, except that in their case
the questioning could include torture. The authorities were
determined to get information from these women about a
nocturnal meeting and Anabaptist communion service that
a neighbour of theirs had witnessed. He had seen ten or
twelve people but could not get close enough to recognize
them. The neighbour also reported which houses Anabaptists
were staying in, and orders were given to burn two of
these to the ground.
Thwards the end of September (the 25th) two of these
four women, Anna, the widow of executed Anabaptist
Walthauser Heuberger and his mother, Ursula, were part of
a group of thirteen prisoners who were given a chance to
rejoin the Catholic Church. This group of prisoners
included five other staunch women besides Anna and
Ursula. The outcome of their proceedings is not known to
us. But the fact that the local authorities were explicitly
told to send only learned priests to the prisoners tells us
the women, like the men, were quite articulate in defending
their Anabaptist faith to their accusers. For those
prisoners who persisted in the faith, a trial of execution
would follow.
Another group of four women, whose cases were
discussed October 9, endured a similar fate. The attempts
of the monks to re-convert Simon Kob's wife, her sister
Margreth, Rosina Gamper and Margreth Manngl also failed,
and they were condemned to death.
The faith of Anabaptist women, unrevealed until the
fall of 1529, is a signpost, making us conscious not only of
the freedom we have today but also challenging us to
make our faith known in our time. Our sixteenth century
foremothers were required to reveal their faith to the
authorities and then to choose whether they would endure
the consequences of keeping it. The challenge to live by
the gospel is still with us and requires us to make choices
too, as it did the Anabaptist women of Tirol.
* These court records are published in Grete MecensefiY,
ed. Quellen zur Geschichte der Taufer, XIII. Band Osterreich,
II 'llil (Giitersloh: Gerd Mohn, 1983).
* *See "Wives, Female Leaders, And Tho Female Martyrs
From Hall," in C. Arnold Snyder and Linda A. Huebert
Hecht, eds. Profiles of Anabaptist Women Sixteenth Century
Reforming Pioneers (Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid Laurier Press,
1996), pp.187-194.
..........................................
Linda Huebert Hecht began her research on sixteenth century
Anabaptist women while doing an MA in History (1990) at the
University of Waterloo. She co-edited a book on the topic with
Arnold Snyder (1996). She works part-time in the Conrad
Grebel College Archives, cataloguing historic photographs on a
computer data base. She and her husband, Alfred, live in
Waterloo, are members of Glencairn Mennonite Brethren
Church, Kitchener, and have two married children
FALL 1999 9

PUttjpki" Pa"ic'
by Carine Goossen
Last year, as a part of a trip with my youth group, my
friend and I went to a farm for a hay ride. When we
arrived we just talked and played in the barn, jumping into
hay and having hay fights while we waited for the wagon.
We finally climbed into the wagon and started through the
woods. We were going pretty slowly, but it was still fun. We
stopped at a pumpkin patch to pick pumpkins for Halloween
weekend.
My friend and I found the biggest
pumpkins there. They were so big
they were hard to hold. We were
standing by the steps of the
wagon and we heard, coming
from behind us, all the
other kids shouting "GO!"
"Move it!/I "Hurry up!/I
My friend was already
sitting on the wagon
with two huge pumpkins
on her lap. As I
stepped upon the
wagon, with a crowd
of screaming kids
behind, the horses took
off!
There I stood, teetering
on the step with
two work horses taking off
over the field, running as
fast as they could. I sat down
beside my friend, who was terrified.
She clung to one oversized
pumpkin - her other pumpkin had
flown off the wagon and smashed. I
dropped my pumpkin, turned and looked
towards the horses. I saw that we were heading
for a strawberry patch. If you've ever seen a strawberry
patch you know how very bumpy it is.
What should I do? The horses were totally out of control,
running wildly toward the field. My friend was shaking
and starting to cry. I started for the front of the wagon. Just
then we hit a bump and I flew into the air and landed right
on my bum. I got right back up and grabbed for the reins
just as the wagon started to tip. I thought that the wagon
was going to tip right over, but fortunately it didn't.
I only caught one rein. I pulled as hard as I could
and started yelling, "Whoa! Whoa!/I But because I was only
holding one rein, the horses started going around in a circle.
I looked back at my friend. She was as white as a ghost
and shaking with fright.
I pulled again, this time with both reins. The horses
finally came to a halt. Boy, was I relieved! I went to my
friend and sat down beside her and watched the youth
leaders and other kids come running toward us
with their hands waving and shouting to see
if we were all right. We couldn't say a
word. As they came closer; the
T;ere I stood, teetering
on the step with two
work horses taking off over
the field, running
as fast as
they could.
~
horses became spooked and took
off again. They didn't go as
fast, but it startled the two of
us! I grabbed the reins and
the horses stopped.
Finally the driver got to
the wagon and took
over.
When we
jumped off, my
friend was so terrified
all she could
manage to say was,
"My pumpkin is
gone!/I
That was the
most adventurous
night of my life. When
I got home I told my
parents the whole long
story. They laughed the
whole night.
When I think about
it, I laugh too. But it was scary. My
friend will never go on a hay ride or even
step near a horse again. Those moments seemed like a lifetime
but passed by in a second. I will never forget it.
. . . . . .
Carine Goossen is a lively, enthusiastic, involved 14-year-old
who keeps her parents, Gareth and Gayle Goossen, and her
two older brothers hopping to keep up with her. They live in
Kitchener, Ontario, and attend the Kitchener ME Church. She
is sought after as a babysitter by children and parents alike.
10 SOPHIA / WISDOM

~e b~st part .about
~ ~owmgupm
Northern Ontario was
summering at the lake.
My parents owned a
camp ("cottage" if you're
from the east, "cabin" if
you're a westerner) on
one of the numerous
freshwater lakes dotting
the Canadian Shield.
Summers here are short
and glorious.
As children, our
summer holidays were
spent swimming, hiking,
boating, catching frogs
and berry picking during
the day and enjoying
campfires at night. It was
the best kind of education,
where we absorbed
lessons from nature daily
through our senses and
were rocked to sleep
every night on a wave of
pure peace, looking at
the stars through our bedroom
windows and
listening to the wind in
the trees.
Many of those
lessons I learned from my older brother, who later grew up
to become a biologist, making a career from his fascination
with the natural world. He showed me tadpoles developing
the nubs that would grow into legs as they became frogs.
He also showed me a sight I could have done happily without:
a garter snake lying under the sauna, slowly
swallowing a toad whole.
One day he knelt in the wet sand at the shoreline and
dug holes, pointing out to me how they spontaneously filled
up with water. I was amazed to see how the water miraculously
appeared, welling up into an empty space with no
visible cause.
I've been reminded of that natural miracle many
times since. I've learned that in removing our treasures
from us - people, dreams, possessions - God is trying to
carve a space inside us to fill with himself. When it happens,
we are usually so focused on our pain (and, let's
admit it, our anger at God for letting it happen) that we
can't see it as having any benefit. The more tightly we cling
to our treasures, the more God is crowded out of our hearts
and lives.
I am the first person to
react with anger and an
outpouring of grief when
life disappoints my expectations.
Yet I have to
admit that my character
has been sweetened by
those disappointments. I
am more patient now,
more sensitive to others
than I used to be. More
worthy goals and values
have replaced earlier
shallow, self-centred ones.
I am able to understand
and minister now to
people in pain in a way I
never could before. I am
learning the wonderfully
liberating news that my
worth as a person is not
dependent on my success
or popularity. Best of all,
with my props removed, I
am forced to depend on
God and discover the
beauty of his loving heart
in a way that previously
was only theoretical,
derived from books and
sermons rather than
personal experience.
When the source of our joy is in family, friends,
career and aspirations, our happiness is only as secure as
fragile circumstances. However, when God is our centre,
God's Spirit wells up in our empty places as a source that
can never fail, even when our world is crumbling.
When Jesus spoke to the woman at the well and said,
"Everyone who drinks this water will get thirsty again and
again" (John 4:13, The Message), he was not just speaking of
the physical water she came to draw, but of her history of
relationships that had tragically failed to fill the emptiness
in her heart. He wanted her to let go of her pitifully inadequate
sources oflove and come to him for a love that would
not run short or disappoint.
Grief is real. Loss is real. God respects our pain and
feels for us in our suffering. But the story doesn't end there.
If we wait a bit and let God work, we will find ourselves filling
up with treasures the world can't remove or destroy.
...........................................
Marianne Jones lives with her husband and mother at One
Island Lake near Thunder Bay. She attends Redwood Park
Alliance Church in Thunder Bay.
FALL J999 11

A Cloud of Witnesses
by Anita Schroeder Kipfer
In what way are you different? ... I tell
you, there are a great line of women
stretching out behind you into the past,
and you have to seek them out and
find them in yourself and be con.scious
of them. Doris Lessing
"X J.1JChildhOOd heroine was
V Y' Gladys Aylward. Gladys
grew up in London, England,
and was determined to spend
her life as a missionary in China in
response to what she felt was God's
call for her life. Through a series of
miraculous events Gladys eventually
arrived in China. High in the mountains,
together with a Chinese cook
and an elderly, ailing missionary
woman, Gladys opened the Inn of
Eight Happinesses. There weary
travelers, consisting mainly of mule
caravans passing through, could
spend the night.
In his biography, The Small
Woman, Alan Burgess describes how, singlehandedly,
Gladys would leap at the lead mule as it passed by,
grabbing the animal's head and dragging it in the direction
of her courtyard. Because the other mules were tethered
behind it, the poor beasts had no choice but to follow.
Once inside they were unloaded and given food and water
while the muleteers received a hot
meal and were told Bible stories into
the early hours of the morning.
Gladys's overarching hope was that
the muleteers would carry these
stories for hundreds of miles throughout
the province as they travelled
from village to village.
Gladys's perseverance and
strong faith in God led her on many adventures. Throughout
her life she faced a
myriad of people who tried to put a stop to her endeavors
and to discourage her ministry, including men who ran the
missionary society in England, the Chinese emperor, a
Chinese jail warden and his prisoners and armed Japanese
soldiers. Gladys confronted these obstacles with bold
She turned and said to me,
"Why don't you go and be
a minister?"
conviction. She believed in herself, in others and in God.
Her unswerving faith, courage and stamina inspired me.
Growing up in a Christian home as the child of
missionary parents provided a context in which to embark
on my own spiritual journey. Attending a Mennonite high
school, then Bible college, gave me further opportunities to
nurture my faith and critically reflect on
the theological tenets that had shaped
me so significantly. I distinctly remember
the undercurrent of excitement
that pulsed through me one evening
following a preaching class as I pondered
the possibility of someday becoming a
pastor.
After college, while attending
university, I worked as a home health care aide for the Red
Cross. During that time I met many lonely, suffering people.
Through their pain I experienced God's presence in
ways I had not known before, both in times of crisis and in
daily, sometimes mundane tasks. These people showed me
the importance of human love and relationships and also
the fragility of life. What I received often seemed more
12 SOPHIA / WISDOM

than I had given. I learned that in serving others, I was
serving Christ.
During the spring and summer of 1996, I cared primarily
for a remarkable woman who was 102 years old and
still living in her own home. One morning
in July we were eating apple slices on
the porch and enjoying the sunshine
when she turned and said to me, "Why
don't you go and be a minister?" "How did
you know?" I wondered, somewhat taken
aback. "Well you told me," she replied
with conviction. "I knew you'd be something."
Those words were a gift of
affirmation.
That fall I went to seminary.
Theological studies and spiritual reflection
combined with practical placements
in congregational and hospital settings
confirmed a call to vocational ministry.
After graduating from seminary in the
spring of 1998, I began co-pastoring in a
Mennonite congregation and ministering
as a chaplain in a home for the elderly.
Sadly, in response to its official stance on
women in ministry, I've felt the need to
move beyond my own denomination to
fulfill this call. At times the journey
~ seems long and painful; ultimately it is
rewarding.
~
Because I'm a young woman in my
twenties, people generally find it difficult to believe I'm a
pastor. Sometimes I long for the authority of a white collar
and flowing robe. Introductions at funeral homes or at the
bedside of a dying relative are not everyday occurrences
for most people, and understandably they're already a bit
uncomfortable. I've learned that people usually expect a
priest or at least a graying, well-seasoned reverend to walk
into the room in their time of bereavement, not a young
woman without any liturgical vestments (here my
Mennonite heritage hasn't helped me). When I introduced
myself as the chaplain at a funeral home recently, one
woman exclaimed in shock, "You can't be serious!"
After I was hired at the nursing home, I remember
how the administrator gently informed me that earlier she
had asked the residents whether they preferred a man or a
woman to fill the position. This was to replace the most
recent chaplain, a United Church minister who had just
celebrated his eightieth birthday. The residents had voted
unanimously for a man. You can only imagine the
surprised looks on their faces when I walked into the room
and introduced myself!
Since that initial meeting, I've had many meaningful
visits with the residents. They have become a source of joy
and encouragement to me. Focusing on pastoral care in
both nursing home and church contexts enables me to
work with a wide range of people and ages in the life cycle
- children, youth, adults and seniors. The most demanding
challenge continues to be ministry in times of grief and
dying. These are profound experiences of loss and change.
Sometimes I feel like a spiritual midwife, helping people
die with dignity and assisting family members to release
them. Being with people in times of deepest need and
vulnerability is humbling. Through these experiences God
continually affirms my call to ministry.
As a child I gathered my friends around me and
made them pretend to be students while I practised being
their teacher. I loved being with people, and I didn't mind
bossing them around either! While I read my Bible from
cover to cover and took my faith very seriously, I never
consciously thought about becoming a pastor, likely
because I had never met a woman minister. Thday I thank
God for people who show me a different way, for the many
people who have encouraged and affirmed me in my journey
and who believe in me. I'm especially grateful for the
examples of women in my life, both in the present and
throughout history who continue to inspire me - sisters,
mothers, grandmothers, friends, authors, professors, pastors
and mentors. I thank God for courage to dream dreams
and for Gladys Aylward who boldly faced the obstacles in
her path.
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a
cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight
and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with
perseverance the race that is set before us. . .. In all
our troubles [we are] still full of courage: [we are]
running over with joy! ... The one who calls [us] is
faithful.
Hebrews 12.1 NRSV; 2 Corinthians 7.4 TEV;
1 Thessalonians 5.24 NRS
................................
Anita Schroeder Kipfer is a pastor at Stirling
Avenue Mennonite Church in Kitchener;
Ontario. She also ministers as the chaplain at
Farkwood Mennonite Home in Waterloo. Her
interests include travelling, reading, writing,
and going for walks with her husband, Bryan.
FALL 1999 13

(L-R) Sharon Gray, Holly Woelfle, Helen Neufeld,
r1 L isn't often that life begins at 70 and that what lies ahead
~ is brighter than what has passed. But Helen Neufeld of
Kitchener, Ontario, who turns 70 in October has discovered
that she can hardly wait to get up in the morning. Her
days of sitting at home knitting and waiting for visitors to
drop in are over.
As a certified interior designer with more than ten
years of experience including teaching, consulting and
retail, Helen's daughter Holly Woelfle had always dreamed
of opening her own business. Helen encouraged her
daughter enthusiastically, unaware that it would change
her life and draw her family closer together in a beautifully
unique way.
In 1996, Holly and two partners opened Silkweeds'
Thuch of Elegance in st. George, Ontario. Housed within a
regal Victorian home built in 1880, Silkweeds consists of
seven theme rooms filled with gift items, floral designs,
home accessories and decorating ideas. The Petticoat Parlour,
an afternoon tearoom, is located on the main floor.
Helen put her shyness and health problems aside
and dived in. She volunteers on a part-time basis and
makes the one-hour trip to the shop from
her home in Kitchener with Holly every
other day. As a hostess dressed in period
clothing, Helen greets customers at the
door, shows them through the various
rooms of the shop, seats them in the tearoom,
explains the stories behind some
of the merchandise and makes everyone
feel welcome.
"When Mom's not in the shop,
people ask for her," Holly says delightedly. "She hugs the
customers, and they bring her gifts. She helps them take
their purchases out to their cars. Busloads of visitors come
and want their pictures taken with her. She's the one who
gives Silkweeds its loving touch."
Loyal clientele includes the Mainse family and staff
of the television program 100 Huntley Street as well as
many viewers of the program. For the week of Mother's
Day last year, Holly and her remaining partner Jackie
Enticknapp were invited to lend their special touch to
transform the set on 100 Huntley Street into a tearoom.
"Silkweeds is a place of quiet witness with a peace
that I couldn't have put there," says Holly thoughtfully.
"Customers often mention it. We know that it's God's
peace." And aptly stenciled in Gothic letters and ivy at the
top of the stairs are the words, "God bless our home."
It is here in this charming haven of treasures and
tranquility, tucked away on a quiet street in a tiny town
that Helen has discovered a new purpose. Thld by doctors
that she should not expect to live past the age of 14
because of a heart condition, she became accustomed to
14 SOPHIA / WISDOM

Justina
by Esther Regehr
Sometimes she forgets she's eighty:
Daddy's left, gone his own way,
(but there is One for the fatherless).
It's Mommy and her in the little house -
lone pine sentinel at the gate -
working with joy, kneeling at the cedar chest,
arms around each other on the path,
singing "Whispering Hope."
nie Oberle, Cindy Neufeld
strictly limiting her activity and involvement, but her total
transformation at discovering that she loves people is
touching. She seems to sparkle when she speaks about it.
"It's wonderful," she says, still a little amazed by it
all. "I didn't realize how much I love people and like to be
with them. I never did much or went out before but now I
can't wait to get to the shop. I phone Holly on my days off
to find out what's happening there!"
Indeed, the shop seems to have taken on a life of its
own and has pulled the whole family into it. Henry,
Helen's husband, plays Santa Claus at Christmas. Sisters
Sharon, Bonnie and Cindy help out on weekends and bring
friends in to share a cup of tea and shop.
The pride evident in each family member at the realization
of Holly's dream is stirring, but it is their wonder
and excitement at the incredible change in their mother
that warms the heart. Holly reflects with her sisters for a
few moments. "Seeing Mom fulfilled is the best part of this
whole business," she says. "It is a blessing to see her loving
people everyday."
Around the table Sharon, Bonnie and Cindy agree
and add, "Happy birthday Mom! We love you!"
Helen just smiles radiantly.
. . . . . . . . . . • . . .. ..
Helen Neufeld is a member of Kitchener Waterloo Mennonite
Brethren Church. Rachel Wallace-Oberle is a freelance writer
and editor and writes for Christian Week as well as several
Christian organizations. She also co-hosts "Sunday Sound of
Faith, N a weekly radio program broadcast on CKWR 98.5 FM
in Waterloo. Rachel and her family attend Kitchener Waterloo
Christian Fellowship.
Mid-teens, and the splendid Archer
aims an arrow that bums into her soil
a love that will not let her go.
All her life she tells His story.
How the piano always beckons her restless fingers
to untie the bindings of the clenched heart.
Her beloved Jacob,
tireless provider of all but loving touch.
They had only each other and God,
who answered impossible prayers -
children bringing equal parts joy and sorrow.
A serpent hiding in the Lord's house, sinking
its notched fangs into their unwary flesh.
The soul forged on.
At Jacob's final sleep, she screamed
her desolation in the bottomless silence.
Thste of forbidden love,
how sweet to her starved heart;
her children aghast at her brief indiscretion
She remembers she's eighty,
walking the lonesome valley,
fearing final skirmishes and wounds
down by the river, before the waters part
and she crosses on dry land
to bright Canaan.
. . .. . ..... .. . ... ... ...
Esther Regehr is a rental agent and freelance writer living in
Waterloo. She and her husband attend Waterloo North Mennonite
Church. "Justina" won first prize for free verse and
Promising New Poet award in the 1998 Fall Literary Competition
of Inscribe Christian Writers' Fellowship based in
Edmonton.
FALL 1999 15

TheA
Reve-~
ist
. .
ed
by Nancy Riediger
Fehderau
"rfwould really like to get to know this artist," the art critic softly mused as
V ~he examined one of Helen Rempel's paintings at a local art show. That
comment was overheard by one of Helen's friends who had accompanied her to
the show. However, the self-effacing, reclusive Helen was nowhere in sight.
That art critic never did meet her. I did get to know Helen Rempel - the
child, the woman, the sister, the artist - as I had the privilege of spending several
afternoons with her in preparation for this article.
Helen was born in Kitchener in 1929, the oldest of three children. Those
were the tough depression years. She very quickly learned the meaning of
thriftiness. Her father, Peter, a sign painter by profession, found it difficult to
find steady employment, which forced the family to move to wherever work
was available. By the time Helen was thirteen years old, the family had relocated
twelve times. This was especially difficult when they moved in the middle
of the school year.
It was not only the constant changes of the school environment that
bruised this shy, fragile young child. At home, too, her sensitive spirit was
16
SOPHIA / WISDOM

crushed by fear of the harsh, critical nature of her father.
That fear often paralysed her, as it seemed she could do
nothing right. Books became her beloved companions. She
showed me some that were her favourites as a child,
eagerly relating how she had been charmed by the fine
"old-world" illustrations and the tales that had awakened
her imagination.
Helen's talent was inherited from her paternal grandparents.
Her grandmother bore herself with a dramatic
flair, and sketched complete, detailed drawings in miniature.
Her grandfather, Peter Gerhard Rempel, was a
photographer, well known throughout the Mennonite
colonies of the Ukraine. His extraordinary photographs
have been published in the book Forever Summer; Forever
Sunday. Helen's father used his talent mainly in sign painting.
Helen herself remembers drawing pictures as a young
child, even then taking infinite care with
the smallest of details. How she admired
the lovely penmanship in her school
primers. She delighted in practising the
graceful swirls and loops of the letters
until she got them just right. Looking
through her high school year book, one
can easily recognize Helen's beautiful
illustrations, signed with her characteristic,
elegant signature.
After graduating from high school, Helen was
employed by an insurance company. She remembers the
thrill of finally having enough money to buy her first little
set of oil paints. How she looked forward to trying them
out at home! That anticipated joy was quickly dashed by
her mother's words: "Why would you waste your time
painting pictures? You should be sewing and doing something
useful."
In spite of the discouragement, her goal to study at
the Ontario College of Art in Thronto remained intact.
Finally, after working five years, she had saved enough
money for one year at the college. There, her talent flourished.
She was even offered a scholarship to continue. But
her father took ill and died a few months before the end of
the term. Her mother needed her at home. Friends persuaded
her mother to allow Helen at least to finish that
year. Then she returned home and found employment
again.
But she continued to pursue her love of art. She
bought and completed the Famous Artists home study
course. She became aware of different techniques and was
particularly intrigued with Norman Rockwell's use of photographs
to compose his pictures. From then on, she was
never without her camera. She joined a camera club and an
art club. She would ride out into the country on her bicycle
or join outings with the Field Naturalists and take colour
slides, which became the resources for her paintings.
Se delighted in
practising the graceful
swirls and loops of
the letters until she got
them just right.
It was in her private world of painting that Helen felt
most at ease. Public and social situations where she was
the focus caused her great discomfort. She preferred to
remain hidden and unnoticed, allowing only a few people
to befriend her.
Throughout those early years when the family was
constantly moving, it had been difficult to remain in a
church community for any length of time. And later the
family had to follow their father; who seemed constantly to
be searching for the perfect church. Because of this, her
spiritual nurture was fragmented, and she recalls how confused
she felt. She finally found her church home in the
Kitchener MB Church, but the prospect of having to give
her testimony publicly for membership gave her unbearable
anguish. A creative solution was found. A friend faced
the congregation in her stead and read her eloquently written
testimony on her behalf. Everyone
who was there will not forget that
evening.
Meanwhile, Helen quietly continued
to paint. People - particularly
children - nature and animals have
always been her favourite subjects. The
meticulous and careful attention that she
gives to each detail is one of her trade-
marks. She says that she sometimes finds
it difficult to know when to stop "fiddling with the details"
and let the picture go. In time, her talent became known,
and she began to accept commissions. In 1972, she left her
place of employment and became a full-time artist.
Friends encouraged and assisted her to show her
paintings at various art shows. The manager of an art
gallery in St Jacobs, the centre of Amish and Mennonite
country in Ontario, was impressed with her paintings and
invited her to work for his gallery. Since tourists were
always eager to buy paintings depicting Mennonite life, he
wanted the bulk of her pictures to relate to that theme.
Every 18 months he expected 20 paintings.
By 1989 she felt that she needed a rest from that
demanding schedule. She fully expected to return to her
painting again after a few months. Well, those months
passed, and then more months went by. The longer she
waited, the less constrained she felt to paint.
It has now been ten years. She assures me that she is
happy and content. Her greatest passion is to forage
around in second hand bookstores, usually returning laden
with a box of treasures; old books, some beautifully bound
and illustrated, which she delights in reading. Gardening
gives her much pleasure. She showed me several lovely
paintings of flowers that she had grown, cut, arranged,
photographed and then painted. She bakes her own rye
bread, occasionally prepares some favourite traditional
Continued on page 23 ~
FALL 1999 17

:M ' ay I ask what you are doing, Karen (not her real
name)?/I
"I'm thinking./I
She was stretched out on the floor in the middle of
the circular prison chapel, her head resting on a big cushion.
"May I join you?/I I asked.
"Oh, please do!/I she answered without breaking her
concentration. I found another pillow and settled quietly
beside her.
After a minute or so I asked, "What are we thinking
about?/I
"I'm worried about going back home./I
"You want to talk about it?/I I suggested.
"I don't know if I will be strong enough to make the
right choices. I will need a job, a place to live and people to
support me. Sometimes I wish I could just stay here./I
"Karen, you know God better now than you did when
you first came here. God is not going to stay here in prison
when you leave. God is going with you and is willing to
help you every step of the way./I
"Selma, what will I do if I can't find a job? Do you
realize how tempting it will be for me to go back on the
street and make in an hour as much as I would earn in a
whole month?/I
"You need to trust God to provide for you, Karen.
Make sure you find a church where you will be nurtured
in your faith. Don't go back to your old friends who could
tempt you to return to your old habit. Find friends who
will support you in your effort to change./I
"May I take this Bible with me? And this Bible study
book as well? I'm so afraid I won't be strong enough./I
"In your own strength you won't make it, Karen. But
remember, there is nothing that God cannot do. God loves
you and wants to help you./I
Karen was one of the women who had been part of
my Bible study group. I was going to miss
her. Her questions and comments had often
forced me to look at Scripture from a very different
point of view.
Th teach the Bible in a women's prison
had been a dream of mine ever since the first
time my husband, Gary, and I had visited
someone who had broken the law. My heart
skipped a beat when I heard those gates fall
into their locks behind us. Was it not only by
the grace of God that I was not the one on
the other side of those doors? Those people
needed to hear the good news of hope in
Christ. Only he could help them change their
hearts and lives.
But the possibility of my dream becoming
reality was slim. The only prison for women in Ontario
was too far away from where we lived. Our three sons
were still young, and my husband busy with his teaching
career.
Now, fifteen years later, I marvel at how God prepared
me for the work, even bringing the prison closer!
Three years ago a new women's prison was built here in
Kitchener - almost in our neighbourhood!
I applied and was accepted as a volunteer under the
chaplaincy programme of Corrections Canada. 'leaching
the Bible to women who claim to have made a commitment
to Christ some time ago, or to others who have never
heard the Good News, is exciting and challenging. Thking a
turn in leading their Sunday church service has given me
the opportunity to befriend more of the inmates.
The One-on-One volunteer ministry requires a strong
commitment. She sits across from me, arrogant and with a
loud laugh. This one will be in prison for a long time. I was
warned that she could have "bad days./I I now think those
bad days outnumber the "good days./I Do I understand her?
What caused her to commit that crime? How can I help
her deal with the guilt, the anger and the possibility of
never being allowed to be totally free again? Those in
authority are not willing to trust her. Will I have the opportunity
to introduce her to the One who can make
everything new?
I hear Karen's voice again. "Selma, will you remember
to pray for me? I'm afraid to go home!/I
..........................................
Selma Enns is the mother of three grown sons and is enjoying
being grandmother to her one granddaughter. Besides her
involvement in prison ministry, she is also visitation minister
at the Glencaim MB Church in Kitchener. She and her husband
are spiritual caregivers at local hostels. They are also
planning a second trip to the Ukraine with Church Partnership
Evangelism.
18 SOPHIA / WISDOM

The Dance of the
Dissident Daughter:
A Woman's Journey
from Christian TYadition
to the Sacred Feminine
...........................
by Sue Monk Kidd
(Harper San Fransisco, 1996).
Reviewed by Elfrieda Neufeld
Schroeder
My daughter's voice on the phone
sounded excited. "Mom, I just discovered
a new book on Christian feminism
in the seminary library. You'll never
guess who wrote it!"
No. I never guessed. Not in my
wildest dreams. And I didn't believe her
when she told me. "Sue Monk Kidd?
Excuse the pun, but you're kidding me
right? Sue Monk Kidd, the one who
writes articles for Guideposts? She's not
a feminist!"
"She is now, Mom, and you've got
to read her book!"
I knew I needed to buy this book,
to ingest it, mark it up, live with it. I
had never before been intimately
acquainted with the works of an author
who later became a Christian feminist.
Monk Kidd's work had always resonated
with me in a very personal way.
I was not disappointed. I read the
book from cover to cover, marked it up,
journeyed with the author in her
hunger to discover her feminine self. I
was amazed at her courage, her honesty,
her drive.
Monk Kidd divides her book into
four parts. In "Part One: Awakening,"
she describes her own beginnings in
discovering the sacred feminine. She
writes: "The last thing I expected was
an encounter with feminist spirituality
.. .. I was uncomfortable with the
word [feminist), uncomfortable with the
images it carried .... If there had been a
contest for Least Likely to Become a
Feminist, I probably could have made
the finals on image alone" (p 10).
Monk Kidd began her journey
with a dream in which she gave birth to
a baby that was herself. She writes of
the "feminine wound" and how women
ignore it by trivializing their own feelings
and censoring the truth. Monk
Kidd could no longer remain neutral
when she caught two men making fun
of her daughter who was on her knees
in a drugstore rearranging items on a
bottom shelf. Their remark, "Now that's
how I like to see a woman - on her
knees," jolted her into an awareness
from which she could no longer hide.
More and more, although in stages, she
began to live from her own inner guidance,
"the divine voice in my own soul"
(p 76).
"Part Tho: Initiation" speaks of
death and rebirth, a sacred disintegration,
a transition in which the old
values, meanings and concepts no
longer fit. It is a time of pain and struggle,
but also a sense of moving in the
right direction and releasing that "rambunctious
girl-child ... conceived and
birthed ... during the awakening, the one
who really had been there all along"
(p 89). Monk Kidd stresses that the
journey is different for everyone:
"Each woman has her own timing and
her own way" (p 98). She speaks of
how this journey, if you are married,
will affect your mate, and shares
openly and honestly how it affected
her marriage. Again she stresses listening
to your inner wisdom and giving
yourself permission to follow it.
"Part Three: Grounding" is a
reaffirmation of the "deep, formless,
indescribable nature of the Divine"
(p 137). Monk Kidd acknowledges that
the Jewish and Christian God is genderless
("1 am that I am") but that as
humans we have no way of relating to
the Divine except in forms and images,
in a language that the soul understands.
Because we have only allowed one
image, that of the male, to describe
God, this has become an actual description,
rather than a symbol, and has
become idolatrous. We must recover a
Divine Feminine in order to keep from
being idolatrous.
Monk Kidd stresses that as
women we must give ourselves permission
to ask the hard questions, and she
proceeds to do so as she begins a quest
for the "Sacred Feminine" within the
Christian tradition.
"A woman who dwells in the solid
center of herself' (p 197) and carries an
inner authority that comes from deep
within her being, is the topic of "Part
Four: Empowerment." This empowerment,
Monk Kidd claims, requires first
of all that a woman must find a soul of
her own. This is not the dry, parched
soul forced to grow on patriarchal
ground, but a soul that grows on feminine
ground. Following this path of
female empowerment means bearing
witness to what has been experienced,
becoming a force for compassion and
justice in the world. It means having
the courage to express this experience,
drawing on one's own inner authority.
It does not mean being overbearing and
opinionated, controlling and argumentative,
which Monk Kidd calls "recycled
patriarchal power" (p 212).
Sue Monk Kidd's book is a
challenge to women to be true to themselves,
to embrace their own spirituality
arising from their feminine nature. It is
a book for both women and men who
are open to change and willing to
re-examine their concept of the divine.
. . . . . . . .. . ............... .
Elfrieda Neufeld Schroeder is working on
a PhD in Germanic Languages and
Literature at the University of Waterloo.
She writes on a regular basis for the
inter-Mennonite devotional booklet Rejoicel
She and her husband, Hardy, are members
of the Kitchener ME Church where they
serve as deacon co-chairs. They have three
grown daughters, Christine, Anita (see her
article in this issue) and Heidi.
FALL 1999 19

The Lord is Gracious
and We Get Home (Anyway)
by Nan McKenzie Kosowan
lin Lcouldn't just walk away! It has to be here some­
~ where." At five years of age, Kenny, my eldest
grandson, knew the signs of Nana losing something. He
also knew what usually came next. "Lord," he'd heard me
say so often, "You see everything. You know where that
thing is. Please show me."
More than once he initiated the call for the Lord's
help as he saw the search for a lost item prove futile. Allan,
his younger brother, reserved judgment on the sleuthing
ability of the Holy Spirit until a few adventures encouraged
him to expect.
One such (mis)adventure began on a beautiful,
sunny day that the grandchicks were spending with me.
We packed lunch and, leaving the car at home, set out for a
suburban park by bus. The big red bus was Kenny's latest
passion.
Little fellows of three and five aren't much help
when it comes to toting a bag lunch for
three, snacks for three, a picnic blanket,
a diaper bag ... and a purse. I managed to
get the baggage, the boys, myself ... and
the purse, off the Big Red all in one
piece. We found a lovely park site where
we could see a stream, birds, kids coming
home from school at noon and a
happily busy setter tracking a squirrel. Lunch downed, we
were off to see what might await us around the next little
hill. I loaded up snack bag, blanket and diaper bag and
struck out, firmly grasping a little hand on either side.
Several hills, a couple of float-the-twig-under-thebridge
races, a visit with the setter and a few weed
bouquets later, we decided the ride home on the Big Red
would be welcome. Nana fixed the boys still with her eye
as she shifted bags and blanket to fish the fare from her
purse. Her purse ... which wasn't there. Initial reaction to
hightail it back to the picnic site where Purse was last seen
soon gave way to reality at the sight of two dismal, tired little
faces. I couldn't lug two husky little boys back to the
picnic spot, nor leave them to retrace my steps.
We sat down and Nana asked for a bit of quiet to collect
her thOUghts. Purse was quite lost. I woefully
estimated the time it would take to walk home. Moving at
their weary pace for ten minutes, stopping to rest for five,
moving again for ten .. . would we make it by bedtime? By
car, home was fifteen minutes away! Hitchhiking was definitely
a last resort, but we were running out of options.
20 SOPHIA / WISDOM
[J held a little hand in each
of mine and spoke to the
One who knew our plight.
I held a little hand in each of mine, looked up
through the canopy of trees to the clear sky beyond and
spoke to the One who knew our plight and should have
been my first resource rather than my last resort.
"Lord, we can't see any good way home. We're not
sure what to do. We trust you to get us back, and I'm sorry
I was careless about my purse. Thank you for helping us
now."
We started out, singing little songs to encourage
expectation. Leaving the park, crossing the road, walking to
the bus stop, we passed a gate beyond which we could
hear voices and a couple of quietly whirring machines that
piqued our curiosity. The machines had moved on by the
time we got there but another couple came up behind us
and stopped. Golfers sat in the machines, staring at us. We
had wandered onto private golf club grounds.
"What are you doing here?" the first woman finally
said. "Do you realize you are in danger
of being struck by a flying golf ball?
You must get these children out of here
at once."
My grandchicks had never seen
Nana babble before, but finally, with
lame gestures, I got out the story of our
predicament. The golfer's face softened
and she said, "I'm a grandma too. You must get them home
after all this excitement. Here's ticket money. I hope your
purse gets back to you."
When their parents arrived at the house after work,
the boys poured out the story in stereo of "how God got us
home anyway when Nana lost her purse."
Purse came home the next day with a generous dog
walker who found the address, brought it to our door and
apologized (bless his heart) for not returning it as soon as
he found it. The boys listened with great interest to our
benefactor, who, to top it off, tipped his hat and left with a
"God bless you!" to which Kenny replied brightly. "He did!
He already did!"
. . . . . . . . . . .. . ............ .
Nan McKenzie Kosowan, of Kitchener, freelances for Christian
Week and the denominational publications of this country,
watching for stories of people who love the Lord and are
effectively using the gifiings God has blessed them with. Her
Hgrandchicks N are now young men attending 'Trent University
and Sheridan College.

A Child Again
by Lori J. Willms Neufeld
The beauty of a coloured leaf,
The fragrance of a rose,
The joy of feeling clean, white sand
on summer's sockless toes.
The thrill of small accomplishments,
Climbing to the top,
The ABCs and l23s,
Green means go and red means stop.
Splashing in the water,
A squirter that can't miss,
The healing of a band-aid,
Or, even better, Mother's kiss.
A ride on Daddy's shoulders
on a cloudless, summer day,
Knowing that you're so high up
You could almost flyaway.
The suspense of "one more story,"
Read aloud on Grandpa's knee,
Feeling loved and happy, safe and warm,
As you make a memory.
Helping Grandma bake her cookies,
Chips and sprinkles all in place,
Licking clean the beaters
With a smiling, sticky face.
The miracle of Christmas
The gifts, the tree, the lights.
A baby in a manger on that
first real Christmas night.
There were times I thought 'twas over
That my youth was at an end.
But through the eyes of my sweet children,
I'm a child now once again .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Lori is a busy mom of three, juggling activities
between home and school, baseball, hockey,
swimming and gymnastics. She also finds time
to do some administrative work in her husband's
optometry clinic. They worship at
Grantham ME Church in St. Catharines. Lori
writes, "This poem is dedicated to my parents,
Jake and Rita Willms, who gifted me with a
childhood of happy memories, and to my children,
Carianne, Jonathan and 'Tracey, who
were my inspiration. "
FALL 1999 21

A BROTHER'S PERSPECTIVE .ot; ...
Waiting on the Lord
by Dave McMillan
Someone with too much time on
their hands has calculated that if
we live to be 80, we will have spent
almost ten years of our life waiting!
You would think that something we
do for an average of two hours a day
would be a fairly polished skill, but
the truth is, most of us do not wait
well.
We are often impatient with others,
with ourselves and with God. We
know what we want, and we believe
that the faster we get it, the happier
we wil1 be. When we write it out like
this, the selfish basis for poor waiting
skil1s is so clear that we might
chuckle about it. In daily life, however,
we hide our selfishness behind
excuses like, "I need to get the Lord's
work done!" or "I'm pushing others
for their own good!" or even, "I'm just
claiming this promise from the Lord!"
We wait for so many things. We
wait for God to give us a spouse. We
wait for our spouse to give us affirmation.
We wait for our church to grow.
We wait for our fat to disappear. We
wait for holidays to come. We wait for
our children to be born, to get out of
diapers, to start school, to finish
school, to leave home, to write, to
bring the grand-kids over. Is there no
end to the waiting?
Well, yes, there is ... but we don't
like waiting for that end either!
I've always found Isaiah's claim
(40:31) that "Those who wait upon the
Lord will renew their strength" was
one of those passages best understood
in hindsight. While the New International
Version's replacement of "wait
upon the Lord" with "hope in the
Lord" ruined an oft-used phrase, it
does point us in a useful direction.
Our inability to wait well reflects our
weakness of hope.
Peter points this out in 2 Peter
3:3-10: if we had proof that Jesus was
returning later today, we'd have no
trouble waiting. Indeed, we'd be flying
around celebrating with those
who knew and warning those who
didn't! The problem, Peter notes, is
that "everything goes on as it has"
(v 4) and we begin to lose confidence
that God will do as promised.
We do not wait well when our
hope is dim. Ifwe knew for certain
that our children would return to the
Lord, our waiting would be a lot easier.
We know, however, that some
children do not find their way back,
and this fear dims our hope. We may
even know that nagging and coercing
are poor waiting skills, but our fear
robs us of hope, and we are unable to
wait.
This is why so many scriptures
encourage us to trust in God and
hope in God's word. Without the confidence
of trusting and hoping, we
will not wait well. In 1 Samue113:8,
Saul is waiting for Samuel to offer a
sacrifice before his soldiers do battle
with the Philistines. With his men
beginning to scatter in fear, Saul
offers the sacrifice himself. The incident
results in Saul losing the
kingship forever. Why was the result
of not waiting so severe? Was it such
a crime to offer the sacrifice? No,
Saul's problem was that he did not
hope ("have faith" we say today) in
the Lord. Without hope, you cannot
wait!
God's creation in nature teaches
us to wait. As a boy, I remember
wanting to help a chick out of its
shell. I even imagined myself to be
helping the chick. The truth was that
I couldn't wait! In the great design of
nature, the chick needs the strength it
gains by fighting its own way out of
the shell. Removing the shell prematurely
will leave the chick crippled, or
even dead.
Our inability to wait for the
future often robs us of our joy in the
present. Our impatience at not receiving
what we want blinds us from
seeing what we are receiving now.
This is why the "health and wealth"
promises of many television evangelists
are so evil. We miss the present,
and we may miss the future as well.
Corrie Thn Boom tells a wonderful
story about asking her dad how
she would ever have the strength to
face his death. Her dad gently questioned
her about when he gave her
the ticket she needed for the train.
"Just before I need it to get on," Corrie
replied. "And that is when God
will give us what we need," replied
her dad, "Just before we need it."
Corrie found that to be true with her
dad's death, her sister's death in the
concentration camp, her need to
forgive the converted guard. If we
wait, God gives us what we need, just
before we need it.
....... 0. • • • • • .. • • • • .. • • •
Dave McMillan works halftime as a
physical education teacher at an
elementary school in St Catharines.
He spends the other half as pastor at
the MB Community Bible Church of
St Catharines. He has taught in mission
settings in India, Nigeria, and Papua
New Guinea. He and his wife, Heather;
a nurse, have two children, Jared and
Natasha, both university
students.
22 SOPHIA / WISDOM

!\VO Poems
by Marianne Jones
Pilgrimage
A pilgrim does not fly on eager wings.
He walks:
slow and stumbling sometimes,
almost at a standstill
his progress measured, not in speed
but in direction.
..............................
(First appeared in "Student" November 1995)
god's eye
god's eye
sees no cliches,
no textbook cases.
Each tear
like a separate pearl
preserved in his prism.
Thrned in his hand,
the coloured petals swirl and sing
a kyrie.
The Artist Revealed
Continued from page 17
dishes and still sews her own dresses.
I asked her if she was ever lonely.
"No," she smiled, "I have my three
cats." And then adds wistfully, "But
sometimes when I see a beautiful
sunset I wish that I could have someone
to share it with."
Every now and then she feels
that old familiar urge to paint, but,
"It's so much easier to read, and once
I get into a book I can't stop. I still see
things that I would like to paint. I
sometimes look at my slides. I have a
box with some very special ones that
I would like to paint someday.
Besides, I have a room full of all
kinds of frames. What's my family
going to do with all those frames
when I die?"
Perhaps she will find an overwhelming
reason to return to her
painting again. Then she won't have
to worry about what her family will
do with all those frames .
. . . . . . . . .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Since the death of her husband, Harold,
two years ago, Nancy Fehderau has
been learning to redefine her life as a
single person and to discover what new
future God holds out for her. Part of that
future will no doubt include lots of air
travel, now that her four grandchildren
are in California. She enjoys reading,
spending time with friends, aquacize
and serving on the Ontario MB Board
of Faith and Life and the local board
of Shalom Counselling Services. She
has taken a number of courses and
workshops on Bereavement, Death
and Dying and how to facilitate grief
support groups.
FALL 1999 23

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