Janette Oke
A Heart for the Prairie
Laurel Oke Logan
The story of one of the most beloved novelists of our time.
© 1993, 2001 by Laurel Oke Logan
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâfor example, electronic, photocopy, recordingâwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-6185-4
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Front and back cover photos by Ron Nickel Photography
Cover design by Uttley/DouPonce DesignWorks
The internet addresses, email addresses, and phone numbers in this book are accurate at the time of publication. They are provided as a resource. Baker Publishing Group does not endorse them or vouch for their content or permanence.
This book is lovingly dedicated to my mother
for all the things she is to me
that can't be put into words,
and to my father, Edward Oke,
whom I have always respected greatly
Contents
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3. New Life
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4. Moving North
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5. Church
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6. Siblings
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7. School
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8. Farm Life
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9. Occasions
Preface
Have you ever been captivated by an old house? Maybe it peeked out from the front lane, drawing your imagination past the overgrown shrubbery, down a long abandoned path toward the front door as if calling you to follow. And you wondered what it must have been like when the home was young and bustling with family life.
I know about that kind of home. As a child I spent many days visiting my grandparents' farm. The little house had grayed with the years of rain and snow, the porch stooped, and the kitchen floor creaked and bowed with age, but in my mind it still keeps the magical air only childhood can give.
In this little house I learned the importance of simple values and family ties. I watched laughter, tears, and various personalities adjusting to and enjoying one another in very close quarters. I listened to discussions about death, politics, religion, and loveâall while the participants, intent on a simple game of Rook, were unaware that young ears took it all in. And I learned the importance of the spirit of community that made life bearable during the lean years on the prairie.
My family is more to me than a list of names, and I treasure the heritage that was carved out by those who came before me. As I grew first to love those in my home and then the members of my extended family, I can say with my whole heart that I am proud to be counted among them.
In doing the research for this book, I have learned even more about the clan. Clearly, the hand of God has been at work through the generations, and it's this discovery that I hope to be able to pass on to my own family and to Janette Oke's readers.
I have also learned a great deal more about her, my mother. I am amazed that someone so close to me could have held so many surprises. I sat talking with her for hours, read many things that she has written about her own life and not published, and also pored over letters she wrote years ago.
One truth about her came as no surprise. The basic desire of my mother is to find God's will and then to do it. Time and time again she has searched for her answerâand always found it.
Now, when I look into the shining, inquisitive eyes of my own children, I am struck by how different their lives would be if my parents and grandparents had not learned to place their trust in God. I may never know the true impact a Christian heritage has made in my life and in the lives of my children. I was taught morals, self-discipline, generosity, and selfless love. And I believe that my family's prayers for us have already had a tremendous effect on our lives, like an umbrella of protection. These treasures far outlast any other family inheritance.
Of course my family is not without its “skeletons in the closet.” We don't claim to be perfect, and it's not my purpose here to burden readers with every detail of our lives. But I hope the history contained in these pages will be enjoyable and, if God chooses to use it, an inspiration to continue in the faithâfor our own welfare as well as for our children's.
To truly understand ourselves, it often helps to understand our family roots. Due to the efforts of many in my mother's family, particularly those of her sister Sharon Fehr, we have a fairly complete account of family history. It is easy to see how these people and their faith have helped to shape my mother, and it is a great privilege to offer this account of her life to you.
My mother and I know that it is likely that many readers will not have come from a Christian home. And some will know little about their own particular family tree. Even though none of us can go back and change anything that lies behind, we can begin afresh as the ancestors-to-be of our own families. We can choose values and a lifestyle that our children will first observe and then determine whether or not to follow. It is an awesome responsibility and the only truly lasting legacy.
Chapter One
The Steeves Family
On a brisk February morning, seven-year-old Jean Steeves huddled under the quilts of her shared bed, tucked snugly between her sisters. Fingers of cold searching for exposed skin had roused her. On any other morning, she could have wiggled closer to Betty for warmth and fallen back to sleep, but on this day the crispness of the morning air was broken by a strange cry, and she stirred.
“Betty, wake up,” she nudged her sister. “What's that?”
Nine-year-old Betty turned away and mumbled, “It's just an old tomcat.”
Jean tried to settle back to sleep, but the weak cry came again.
“That's a baby,” she insisted, scrambling over Betty and across the cold floor. “Mom's got a new baby!”
Betty crawled out after her sister, trying not to wake little June, who still slept soundly, oblivious to Jean's excitement. The two girls slipped out of the bedroom to discover that Jean had been right. In the living room they saw that a rocker had been pulled close to the heater-fire, and a small bundle lay cradled in their Aunt Leone's arms.
“Her name is Janette,” Leone whispered in answer to their excited questions.
“Can I hold her?” each girl begged.
“Not right now. She's not a very strong baby. And we need to be pretty careful with her for a while,” Leone explained, choosing her words cautiously. In truth, there were several furrowed brows at the sight of the sickly infant. Even as the older sisters reveled in the discovery of baby Janette, their mother wept alone, struggling with the possibility of losing her new daughter.
Though this young woman had only recently discovered a personal faith in God, scattered across the Canadian prairie that surrounded her stood home after home of those who knew the power of God firsthand.
As the news of the newborn traveled on, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and neighbors were praying fervently for the tiny addition to Fred and Amy Steeves' family. Earnest tears were shed on her behalf, and each prayer reached the attentive ear of the Father.
During the next few months, Janette's little body did gradually gain strength and health, and the prayers for her changed to words of thankfulness.
As she grew, Janette learned by observation that the lives of the family members around her were woven closely together with the values they upheld. Church, faith, and God were a part of her everyday world and conversation.
What Janette did not know was that this family had not always held such strong convictions about the One whom they now considered Lord. Though a thread of faith ran from generation to generation, each member had come to his or her own decision about building upon or rejecting the foundation that had its beginnings hundreds of years before.
Janette's parents, Fred Steeves and Amy Ruggles Steeves, were simple folkâprairie farmers like many of the characters in her storiesâand had descended from two long lines of colorful people.
On one side of the family tree, Fred's family had flourished near the shores of the Canadian east coast until his own father had chosen to travel west. Amy had been born in the United States, and over the course of time, her family had also arrived in the wide spaces of the Canadian prairie, searching for productive land and a place to call home.
When Fred moved to Alberta as a young boy, his family left behind an amazing number of relatives. In fact, a remark concerning the Steeves clan is that “it is more than a familyâit's a nation!”
It was in 1766 that the first Steeves familyâ“Stief” back thenâcame to settle in Eastern Canada, and their descendants soon numbered in the thousands. In fact, about forty years ago Esther Clark Wright, a family historian, estimated the number to be between fifty and one hundred thousand. And, of course, Mrs. Wright was not including the generations that followed the publication of her work.
The Steeves family emigrated from Germany, seemingly to find freedom of worship. Although the family is uncertain as to when Heinrich and Rachel Stief came to North America, records show that in Pennsylvania on January 27, 1766, Heinrich signed an agreement with John Hughes, an entrepreneur of dubious intent. With the weight of this momentous decision heavy upon him, Heinrich prepared to uphold his end of the bargain. He would sail to what was then Nova Scotia and settle with his family in the Petitcodiac River area.
According to
Samphire Greens
, a book published by Esther Clark Wright about the history of the Steeves family, Mr. Hughes' part of the agreement was to give each settler one lot in a town that was to be built, as well as “two hundred acres of good land for every family of five Protestant persons.” Further stipulations were made as to how the land was to be developed and farmed by the settlers, and the payment terms specified.
On June 20, 1766, Heinrich and Rachel stood on deck with their seven sons and watched as the docks of Philadelphia faded from sight. The Delaware River stretched on ahead of them, and as the ship entered the salty waters of Delaware Bay it swayed rhythmically with the waves. Tree-lined hills flattened into broad marshes, and soon, rounding the point of Cape May, the great Atlantic Ocean swelled before them.
Lewis Stief, the youngest son, gazed in awe at the vastness of the rolling waters. He had no memory of his family's voyage across this mighty ocean several years before. The America they left behind burned with the growing fever of revolution, but what lay ahead held dangers of its ownâeven
his
young mind understood some of that. But a glance toward his father and older brothers, who seemed so tall and strong, filled him with courage. Even the cold wind that cut against his face could not drive the excitement from him.
The ship sailed north to the Bay of Fundy, pointing like a broad, muddy finger out of the Atlantic Ocean, stretching upward past the coast of Maine and separating what is now New Brunswick from Nova Scotia. Famous for its extreme tides, navigation of the bay and the streams that feed it is very difficult. Ships caught in it while the tide is going out are gradually lowered fifty feet, sometimes becoming mired in the muddy floor until the ocean once again washes in to flood the area.
Into this basin sailed the ship carrying young Lewis and his family. They continued on to the northernmost stretch of Chignecto Bay and into the Petitcodiac River mouth. Here the swells churned as the rising tidal waters crashed against the flow of the river, driving it back in the direction from which it had come.
Few settlers had yet entered this wild countryside, but its beauty and natural bounty would cause many to follow. The rolling hills of the coastal areas, covered with pine and spruce, gradually changed, ridge upon ridge, to the inland mountains where oak, maple, ash, and birch sheltered thriving animal life. Deer, rabbits, and game birds were plentiful, and Atlantic salmon could be pulled from most streams and rivers. The land itself offered lumber aplenty, along with spacious areas for cattle to thrive and abundant rainfall for crops and gardens.
Even with the bounty of the land, these new settlers were very uncertain about the impending winter. John Hughes had promised a ship bringing supplies, and they watched the bay intently.
Many nights found Heinrich gazing at the water and praying earnestly in his German mother tongue for God's provision for his family and their new neighbors. He had made the decision to sail to Canada, believing it was God's direction for his family, and now his own faith was being tested. Would God provide?
During the anxious weeks of waiting, turnips and a swamp green called samphire were reportedly their main source of sustenance. Then God provided His own means of help from an unexpected source, proving once again that He is faithful.
The solution actually had its beginnings ten years previously when the area around Monckton township, the land the Steeves family now occupied, had been settled by a group of Frenchmen known as the Acadians. After England claimed the land and expelled these French settlers in 1755, a scattered remnant remained hidden deep in the forests.
The story continues that one day an Acadian named Belliveau appeared cautiously from the woods. Apparently he had recognized that the settlers needed help and, after making certain that they did not speak English and were not a threat, felt he could risk coming to their much needed aid.
This man taught them how to snare rabbits and other game, to make maple syrup, and to kill shad and salmon in the shallow river waters when the tide had ebbed. With the skills needed to survive in their new environment and increasing confidence that they could conquer this land, the settlers began to establish themselves, successfully working the land to meet their families' needs.
Eventually, Heinrich Stief anglicized his name, becoming Henry Steeves. His sons married and spread across the area on farms of their own.
Of these descendants, perhaps the best known is William Henry Steeves, a fourth-generation Steeves and one of the Canadian Fathers of Confederation. There is a famous Canadian painting by Robert Harris of the dark-suited, dignified gentlemen who bound the provinces of Canada into Confederation. Here William stands, on the left, proudly representing his province of New Brunswick. In the community of Hillsborough, where he has been honored, his house stands as a museum. Though we cannot claim his parentage, as he came through the line of Heinrich's son Henry while we descended from Lewis, we appreciate this distant connection to Canadian history.
In the early years of settlement life, while the local population was still small, intermarrying was quite common. Two of Heinrich's great-great-grandchildren married on June 22, 1896. Robert Steeves was the son of farmers, but to this trade Bob added the skills of carpenter, blacksmith, and handyman. His distant cousin Kathryn Steeves was orphaned at the age of eleven and went to live with an older sister who had married a judge. The little sister was given the best that life could offer. She was educated, refined, and lacked nothing. Trained as a teacher, Kathryn spent some years in the occupation.
After their marriage, Bob built a beautiful three-story house that looked out over the gentle slope of fields in Elgin, New Brunswick, and planted fruit trees for Kathryn in the big farmyard. A covered porch opened into the large entry where he worked long hours to build an elegant, wooden stairway. A kitchen, parlor, spare room, and dining roomâembellished with a bay window and butler's pantryâcompleted the main floor. A second covered porch graced the kitchen's entry from the yard.
Six bedrooms were scattered around the second-floor landing and another staircase led to a large, floored attic. It was a home worthy of the woman for whom Bob built it.
Robert and Kathryn's first son, Carl, arrived shortly after their first anniversary. Three years later a beautiful daughter, Julia, became the apple of her father's eye. Horace followed two years after Julia and in the next year, Fred, who would be Janette's father. A second girl, Evelyn, was born in 1905 and was followed in 1906 by their fourth son, Jack, bringing the number to six.
When baby Jack was not yet a year, tragedy struck the Steeves family. In February 1907, whooping cough spread among the children. Kathryn was forced to call a neighbor woman for help in caring for her sick little ones.
The large house echoed with their fevered cries. Kathryn rushed from one child to the next. Soon baby Jack had the added complication of pneumonia, and the tired mother focused her attention on her weak infant. Only little Evelyn seemed untouched.
For this small child, the house seemed to be a foreign place. Rooms once echoing with laughter were now hushed and somber. Evelyn longed to find someone to play with, and wandered through the quiet bedrooms filled with feverish bodies until she discovered Fred.
This four-year-old brother, whom the family had lovingly dubbed “Buster,” lay in a cold sweat, his body drained of strength from fighting the illness. Evelyn reached for his exposed arm and patted it gently.
“Poor Ba,” she whispered. “Poor Ba.”
But soon Evelyn also had fallen ill, and Kathryn was forced to turn over the nursing of her toddler to the capable neighbor lady. It was necessary for her to remain with baby Jack for most of the long hours.
