Janette Oke (29 page)

Chapter Forty

The Farm

For some time, Amy's health had been declining, and she had been audibly tiring of life at the long-term care unit at the Rimbey hospital. No one could blame her, though her children tried to cheer her with frequent visits and updates about all the family members. Then Sharon drew her into a project that she, as family “historian,” had begun many years before and had continued to develop. The family history had been researched, but there were so many stories and people from the more recent generations that Sharon wanted to capture on paper for posterity. She and Amy set to work, and
Tide of the Years
was gradually compiled, edited, and then published. Pictures of family members were added and personal writings included. Many of the words were Amy's own, having been written throughout her days on the farm.

By the expected date of its release, many in the family and community had heard about the project and were anxious to congratulate the authors and acquire a copy of the book. So a book-signing party was arranged. Amy was suitably dressed and fussed over, and then guests began arriving at the Rimbey hospital. It was a gala event.

All too soon during the following summer Amy's health failed entirely, and she was taken to be with the Lord. She had touched many lives with her kindness and generosity. She had remained witty and charming, and ready to offer her words of testimony to anyone with whom she crossed paths. It was a difficult time for the entire family and brought an avalanche of decisions to be made.

The will stated that the farm property was to be equally divided among Fred and Amy's eight children. To properly accomplish this the farm would need to be sold and the funds apportioned. But the thought of giving up the homeplace, the meeting place, the foundation of so many memories, was painfully difficult to imagine. So much of life had been centered on the tiny home.

After prayer and discussion, it seemed that there might be a way to fulfill the demands of the will and yet manage to keep the home in the hands of family members. But it proved to be a difficult and time-consuming task. It would be “sold” to the family members most interested and able to buy it from all the others. Then it would be repaired and made available for all to use.

Many of the outbuildings on the farm were not salvageable, some already well on their way to collapse. Those that remained were in need of immediate attention if anything was to be saved at all. Surveying the weathered house, it was difficult to imagine the work that would be necessary to repair it.

Soon Joyce, Margie, Janette, and their spouses became heavily involved in the project. And other family members, too, helped as they were able—both in labor and in material ways. Betty contributed much in time and energy, and Jean, always a steady support, lent her hands as well. However, Jean had begun struggling again with cancer, and she was losing ground.

The farmstead was envisioned as a place for the family to claim its “roots.” A place where future generations could gather and feel connected and welcome. It would serve not only as a reminder of Fred and Amy Steeves but also stand as a “living testimony” of God's provision for the family throughout the years. In a world that so often rends families apart, the team of sisters, who were now grandmothers too, sought to establish a tangible place where their families could come together—body and spirit.

The first major task was to move the creaking little house so that a solid foundation could be placed under it. It was stripped down to bare logs, both inside and out, in anticipation of the professional house movers hoisting it up and setting it aside while a proper concrete basement was constructed for it. Even this proved to be more difficult than anticipated. Dave Shaw and his work crew spent many hours crawling under the building, digging out enough room to work in, cutting out old floor logs, and putting in supports. Finally the machines were able to take over, coaxing the house slowly away from its old resting place, and the basement work could begin.

Though a full basement hadn't been part of the original home, it was felt that the additional storage would be practical. The home had rested directly on the ground, and every effort was made to keep it as close to ground level as possible when it was replaced in its original location.

Then the rebuilding could begin. Many family members pitched in for various tasks, with Joyce emerging as general contractor and her son-in-law, Berwyn Maconochie, serving as building project manager. These were not official titles, of course, but the roles were assumed nonetheless. Many hours of donated labor by those who could find the time to help saw the roof reshingled, the exterior resided, the interior walls reconstructed, doors rehung, and the wood floor re-laid. Each facet of the home required rebuilding of some kind.

The further the renovating progressed, the more interesting facts about the house emerged. From the time they moved in, the family had known something of the history of the house. It was one of the first to be built in the Hoadley/Haverigg area, and originally functioned as both a residence and the local store and post office. Opened in 1912 by John Hoggarth, the house had been changed several times, but traces of its previous use remained. For all the years that the Steeves family lived there, a letter drop remained in the front door.

During the renovating, other discoveries were made that confirmed the multipurpose origins of the building. A second entry door from the shed was uncovered that appeared to be used as the public entrance to the small post office and one-room store. Some of the family recalled a strange window through the pantry wall into the small hall of the bedroom. Piecing together the information as they worked, it seemed logical that this had been a service window—perhaps for handing out mail or speaking to customers.

The walls themselves were unusual. Roughhewn logs had been either hand cut or produced in a primitive mill. Many of the earliest settlers in the area were of Scandinavian descent, and were skilled in the use of building tools. The family presumed that the expertise displayed in the wall construction was a tribute to the hard work of these earliest residents. The logs were also without chinking, tightly fitted together instead, with one interlocking against another. Building paper was then applied directly over the flattened sides of the logs and was covered with wallpaper—sometimes several layers. It is interesting to note that through all the years of the house's “settling,” there never seemed to be a problem with the paper cracking or buckling. Perhaps this was due to the fact that the floating floor had shifted, and not the walls of the structure itself. A smaller log, used for support beneath the floor, had twisted so dramatically over time that the kitchen floor had acquired marvelous hills and valleys, slants and ramp ways, perfect for rolling small cars or playing marbles.

The logs supporting the walls lay directly on the ground—yet only the very bottom ones showed signs of deterioration. Little had changed on the exterior. The small dormer window still peeked out from the large attic upstairs, and the rooms below were returned to what they had been when the family was growing up: two bedrooms, a kitchen, living room, and pantry. Of course, all indoor plumbing and kitchen cupboards were removed, sparing only the electric lights for convenience sake.

As the finishing stage approached, painting, staining, and wallpapering began in earnest until finally the house began to resemble, as closely as possible, what it had once been. Some minor changes were made. The trapdoor for the cellar was moved from the kitchen to the newly constructed shed. And the new shed was now one room, with the ceiling a bit higher than the original two parts. As much as possible, replacement materials closely matched their earlier counterparts. The home was nearly complete.

During the winter and spring of 1997–98, other additions were made to the property. First, a large garage was built to temporarily serve as a gathering room. Kitchen cupboards were placed in it, and tables for eating or playing games—there was even a foozball table donated for entertainment. It was a nice spot for the family workers to rest for a cup of tea before heading back to their physical labors. Wilf, Elmer, and Edward used it regularly as they continued to progress through the list of jobs needing to be completed, and Berwyn maintained a dizzying pace, juggling work on the house with the demands of his “regular job.”

A. teahouse/craft shop was added where the pump house had previously stood. Boards taken from the exterior of the original building were carefully added to the finishing work inside, and a wood-burning stove completed the ambiance. In the basement they created a Janette Oke writing museum, which displayed many of her original manuscripts, her awards, and a large aquarium filled to the brim with some of the reader mail that she had received over the years. Edward carefully built and added special display units to make the room complete.

Another building containing a kitchen, laundry, and public rest rooms, with showers, was constructed. This would be necessary whenever campers used the homesite, or the tearoom was open for customers. Finally, an expansive deck was built to connect the buildings and keep visitors out of the sticky mud of an Alberta spring.

On Mother's Day 1998, Edward took Janette out for supper to a restaurant where they had prearranged to meet Terry, Barbara, and their girls. Janette was entirely unaware of the fact that Lavon had flown to Canada with a surprise in store. He had brought Monica Galloway with him, a young woman to whom he had just proposed marriage.

Lorne and Deb's daughters had approved of Monica for some time. She had often been their baby-sitter while she attended Bethel College, and Katie and Kristie had already recommended her to “Uncle” as a good catch. After she returned from a one-year mission trip to Russia, Lavon found opportunity to spend more time with her and realized that his nieces were right. She was just the one he'd been waiting for.

The extra dinner guests came as a big shock to Janette, but an even happier surprise once she heard their announcement. The meal quickly became a party, with rollicking laughter, party hats, and a little joyous dancing (quite an unusual dinner date for the normally restrained parents).

As summer approached, the farm property was taking shape nicely, though not nearly as quickly as all had envisioned. It seemed that every task had become complicated along the way—typical of construction projects. At last, the time drew closer to the work being completed and the planned family reunion getting underway.

Just a couple of weeks before the celebration date, Laurel and her children arrived, ready to pitch in and join the workforce. They parked their camper next to Edward and Janette's, and began in earnest. Laurel took up a paintbrush, and the kids pitched in on such things as weeding the garden—that is, between bouncing on the trampoline with cousins, picking berries, building tree forts, and baking pies with Great-auntie.

There was a great deal being accomplished on the grounds, as well. In honor of Fred, who always loved his flower garden, a new one had been established with “descendants” of his original plants along with some new ones. The hummingbirds and the chickadees that he had taken such joy in feeding were once again cared for and loved. And a very special “memory garden” was created to remember family loved ones lost over the years.

Here an evergreen was planted for each of the eight family members who had already gone home to be with Jesus. Individual plaques bore their names: Fred Steeves, Amy Steeves, their infant son Kenneth, Janette's baby Brian, June's twenty-one-year-old daughter Karen, Terry's baby girl Amanda, Jean's granddaughter Angela, and Betty's infant grandson Christopher. Each one precious and dearly missed.

Mervin Steeves, Jack's son, dug the holes for the trees, and Joyce showed him where each was to be planted. As they talked, he asked her cautiously, but candidly, if they'd need to leave room for an extra one. Jean had been so ill that the family was forced to face the possibility that they might lose her in the next few weeks or even days.

“No,” Joyce answered. “Not yet.”

But before the date of the celebration, news came that Jean had passed away, and another tree was prepared for her. It brought a twinge to hearts, knowing how much Jean had given to her family through the years, and how much everyone had wanted her to share in the reunion at the homeplace.