GOLDEN WEDDING ANNIVERSARY

Golden - This was the day, August 12 50 yrs ago, Canada’s Centennial Year, that Christine Langlois and I were married in St. Catharines, where we are right now with our children and grandchildren, and will visit the church building and Montebello Park, where our photos were taken in the rose garden, then on to visit Niagara Falls, and be with our much loved extended family. 50 yrs is a long time & we have lived, loved and served together across the years in many places.

60 YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF DEATH AND LIFE

Steve Saint talks about his dad's death, the people who killed him 60 yrs ago, and what transpired since then. His dad, Nate Saint, was one of five men, Jim Elliot, Roger Youderian, Ed McCully, and Pete Fleming, who, on Jan 8, 1956 were killed by Woudani tribesman in Ecuador. His aunt Rachel, and Betty Elliott, the wife of Jim Elliot went to live with these violent Auca Indians. As children, Steve and his sister  join them there. His dad's killer named Mincaye, became Steve's adoptive grandfather. For many years Steve and Mincaye have travelled and told their story. In 2012 Steve suffered a paralyzing injury when testing an experimental flying car. It still limits his activities yet his impact as a communicator continues. 

If you want to witness love, then take a few minutes to see and to hear The End of the Spear, Steve Saint, son of Nate Saint, tells you how as a boy he grew up among the tribespeople who had killed his father, and Mincaye, the Woudani tribesman who speared his dad is beside Steve and has become his grandfather.

I commemorate this 60th anniversary because of its impact upon me personally.

I was 14 years of age when news was received that on January 8, 1956 five missionaries were killed in Ecuador as they attempted to make contact with a violent Indian group known as Aucas. The men's names were Jim Elliot, Nate Saint, Roger Youderian, Ed McCully, and Pete Fleming. The tribe were known as Woudanis.

Marj Saint (wife of Nate) & Mincaye

Our family's church supported a missionary named Dr. Art Johnson, and he too was posted in Ecuador. Art was a member of the search party looking for these men and who found their lifeless bodies in the water and on the banks of the river at a site dubbed Palm Beach.  In 1960, four years after the event, five of my friends and I drove to Chicago, to the University of Illinois, the site of the1960 Urbana Conference for young Christian senior high school and college age adults.  Assembling with 10,000 people in one location was awesome but the draw was a movie called 'Through Gates of Splendour.' It told of the two courageous women who lived with this tribe after the killings. Following the movie, there they stood, Rachel and Betty and one of the killers, in person to give testimony to what happened. When I was a young father, my wife Christine and I travelled to Ecuador with Cari and Jeff, our two small children, to visit friends and also to visit Shell Mera, the home base for the five families. Then just a few years ago when Steve and Mincaye came to Missionsfest Conference at the Pan Pacific in Vancouver, I was blessed to hear a more complete rendition of that distant event and all that has transpired since then.  

Watch Steve Saint and Mincaye speak about walking god's trail, that you learn about in God's markings (Bible).

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MY SWEETHEART

47 years ago this Tuesday, August 12th, Christine said that she would commit herself to me in marriage and we began a life together that has given us years of service to others, fulfillment, personal growth, contentment, memories forever, and two children and now their spouses and their children. What a great way to spend a few decades. I could not be happier. Thanks my sweetheart.

Christine, you even like to have fun, although had both of us looked something like the following characters we may have walked away from one another.


But fortunately we simply aged gracefully and didn't need to play coverup. I think we have made it.




Imagine, we are going for 50 … not so far off.

YES IT'S MAY 1 - FIVE YEARS AGO MY DAD DIED

The first of May is May Day.
May 1st is observed around the world in different countries and cultures by an assortment of customs.

I learned one of the most touching expressions when I visited France in 2009. Here it is. It was in France on May 1st, 1561, that French King Charles IX of France received a lily of the valley as a lucky charm. He decided to offer a lily of the valley each year to the ladies of his court.
At the beginning of the 20th century, it became customary on the 1st of May, to give a sprig of lily of the valley as a symbol of springtime. The French government permits individuals and workers' organizations to sell them free of taxation. It is also traditional for the lady receiving the spray of lily of valley to give a kiss in return. I was present on the occasion of this photo, and I saw them kiss that night.

In western countries May Day is synonymous with International Workers' Day, which celebrates the social and economic achievements of the labour movement. As a day of celebration the holiday has ancient origins, and it can relate to many customs that have survived into modern times. Many of these customs are due to May Day being a cross-quarter day, meaning that (in the Northern Hemisphere where it is almost exclusively celebrated) it falls approximately halfway between the spring equinox and summer solstice. See Wikipedia entry for May Day.

However, for me personally, May 1st is poignantly remembered as the anniversary of my father's death at the age of 93. This year 2013 it a fifth anniversary of what our family views as His home-going. Most importantly that sentiment bears upon his faith in God having prepared a home for him. Yet there is also the awareness that when he died, it was just six months after his sweetheart's passing. Tina Martha passed away in November and with his family standing with him he kissed her face as she lay in her casket and said, "Goodnight sweetheart, I'll see you soon." He lived six months, perhaps lonesome at times, and yet enjoying the life that he had. On the evening that he slipped away, he had supper with my brother and sister in law, Murray and Diane, and his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Murray drove him home. There was evidence that he had washed a few dishes in his apartment. Toward bedtime, a staff person in the assisted living unit, came by with meds, and when he didn't answer the doorbell she unlocked the door and upon entering found that he was lying on the living room rug. He was gone. Without any bruising on his body, it was assumed that he had not fallen but feeling unwell and unable to make it to the couch, he lay down on the floor. And Edward Richard Unruh went home. I loved them both very much.