Having to carry a full student workload and also work part-time didn’t leave me much time to date Marion, but as the saying goes, “Love finds a way”—and it did! I felt a little envious of the students whose parents could afford to pay their way, and they could just lounge around in the men’s lounge and socialize after school hours. Due to my heavy school load and part-time work load, it became necessary for me to resign from the student council as chair of evangelism. This was a very deep disappointment for me, but as the saying goes, “That’s how life goes!”
To save money, I rode my brother’s new bike to school every day when the weather was good, even though the streetcar fare was just 25 cents for four tickets. Every so often my dear dad and sister Marjorie would give me money so that I could take the streetcar.
Two part-time evening jobs I had were packing margarine at a factory and assisting the maintenance manager of the college in cleaning the many areas of the college. I packed margarine into cartons as they sped along the conveyor belts. It now reminds me of the scene where Lucy and Ethel on the I Love Lucy show were packing chocolates in the chocolate factory, and after their mouths couldn’t hold any more, they stuffed them wherever their imaginations led them to. If you remember that one, you will still be able to laugh heartily.
When we were packing the margarine, we had to include one of the colouring packets that were used to change the margarine from white to look more like butter. Farmers insisted that the margarine could not resemble butter. It was such silliness, which of course changed through the years. I worked Monday to Friday evenings from five to nine and made very good money, as it was piecework and I worked very quickly.
During the last two years of my studies, I assisted the maintenance manager in cleaning many areas of the college each day after classes. It was very convenient to have this part-time job without having to travel anywhere. It was a job I enjoyed very much, and it paid quite well. The manager often told me that the school had never looked so clean. I had learned to do housekeeping properly when I was a boy, and it was good training for when I would have to do it so often during my married life. All of my older sisters went out to work in their mid-teens, so we younger ones were assigned many household duties. We washed and dried the dishes and put them in their proper place in the cupboard, mopped or swept the linoleum kitchen floor after every meal, cleaned the toilet (yes, one toilet for 12 people!) and dusted around the house. We seldom ever complained, as we knew it had to be done, my mom was too busy with all her responsibilities, and my older sisters were out to work.
SUMMER JOBS
In order to earn enough money for the forthcoming school year, I needed to work summer jobs, as well as the after-class jobs I worked at during the school year. I will share two of the most interesting ones.
SUMMER IN QUEBEC and SEPARATION FROM MARION
As I approached the end of my first year at Bible college I prayed that God would lead me as to what I should work at for the summer. Then I had a phone call from the superintendent of home missions for our denomination—Dr. John F. Halliday—to ask if I would be interested in serving the Lord for the summer in Quebec at a Christian children’s camp. I told him I would pray about it. My first thought naturally was How will Marion and I deal with being separated for four months and not being able to enjoy activities together? We prayed about it, and we realized that as soldiers of the Cross it was a small price to pay, particularly when compared to the cost soldiers pay when they go off to war for Canada. Many of them never return to their loves, while others return physically or psychologically wounded for life. My second thought was more practical—This job will be good training for my vocation. Some days later I phoned Dr. Halliday back to tell him that I would accept his proposal, and we set up a meeting to discuss details.
Two weeks later I was on my way by train to Montreal. Marion and I had said our sad farewells for the summer, finding it of course very difficult to think of four months of being separated. I also of course said my goodbyes to my family. Mom was in tears, but she assured me she would be praying for me every day.
The founder and director of the camp picked me up at the train station and drove me to the camp, just outside Lachute, which is 62 kilometres west of Montreal. When I found out that the months of May and June would involve long hours of hard physical work, I wondered how I would ever get through it. Log cabins had to be built, and we had to construct a high concrete wall to dam the waters of a pond for a swimming pool. The work on the dam went from early morning to late in the evening, and I can still remember vividly the bites from the swarms of black flies, which left welts on any areas of our skin that were uncovered, and scratching at them all night long. We also had to erect hydro poles to provide electricity for the camp facilities.
THE BOULDER THAT SAVED MY LIFE
It’s actually more correct to say “the boulder that God used to save my life.” During the erection of one of the 40-foot cedar hydro poles, the man who was supposed to direct the bottom of the pole into the hole lost his footing and the control of the pole. As a result, the pole slipped past the hole, resulting in it crashing groundward. All of the men jumped out of the way—except me. The pole came down on me with its full weight, and had it not been for a boulder that suspended the pole, my neck would have been crushed, and I probably would not have lived to tell this amazing story or to fulfill my vision of becoming a preacher and pastor. God had protected me, as He had plans for my future. Jeremiah, the Old Testament prophet, put it this way to God’s people: “I know the plans I have for you” (Jeremiah 29:11). That rock has often reminded me of Psalm 18:2: “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer…in whom I take my refuge.” The rock on the ground in Quebec was certainly the one that provided refuge for me (my neck and my life) that day. Praise be to God!
ARRIVAL OF CAMPERS
In the first week of July the boys and girls began to arrive for a one- or two-week stay at the camp. These were children from the St. Henri district, a community southwest of Montreal made famous by author Gabrielle Roy’s book The Tin Flute. Back then it had a mixture of English- and French-speaking families. The children who came to the camp were from the English section of the city, most of them from families that were struggling financially and many of them from dysfunctional homes. Many of them attended the Sunday school of the church that was pastored by the owner of the camp. What a great opportunity to touch these lives with the love of Jesus! My experience of teaching Sunday school classes and directing the children’s hour at my local church in years past was a definite advantage.
Throughout the summer, I was a camp counsellor in one of the many log cabins we had built earlier in the summer and was in charge of the after-breakfast devotional time each morning. Of course those who have worked at summer camps will know that you just fill in here and there and do whatever is needed to be done.
As I was very lonely at times, being away from Marion and my family, I was blessed to have wonderful fellowship with the camp staff.
A DOWNSIDE TO THE SUMMER
The downside of the summer was that the owner of the camp was not able to pay me very much for my summer’s work, and it meant that I would have to work longer hours at part-time jobs in the upcoming year at college. Not getting remunerated at the same level as other people with the same skills and training is something you have to get accustomed to in full-time Christian service. It’s all part of the price you pay. You had better not be in it for the money!
LAST DAY AND BACK IN EACH OTHER’S ARMS
On my last day at the camp, the owner drove me to Montreal to board the train for Toronto Union Station, where Marion would meet me and we would once again be in each other’s loving arms (and for quite a while too!). We decided that on Saturday we would go to Centre Island for a picnic. That day I met Marion at her home, where she and her mother had prepared a delicious picnic lunch. We took the streetcar to the docks and boarded an island ferry. What a joy to be together again after a long four-month separation! What we didn’t know was that the next summer we would be separated again, but at least not so far away from each other.
SUMMER