23. Return to Oregon

© 2020 Daniel Yordy

January 1993 - December 1993

Such Peace
Such peace has come to me, such incredible peace. After writing the last letter, I knew the deepest sorrow and I wept. But slowly through the day my sorrow turned into a peace beyond understanding, the pure knowing of Father with me.

After reading the last chapter, you now realize why writing about Blueberry was difficult for me from the start. Indeed, it was only through the last few weeks of trying to put off writing the last chapter to “some distant point in the future” that I began to understand that it was indeed shame that became the story of my life, a shame that would work its crippling effect in both body and soul until it had stripped from me any strength I once knew.

At the same time, I continue astonished to discover so little in my time at Blueberry that was anything other than goodness and blessing in interacting with wonderful people. The shame robbed me even of that memory through all these years.

I want to apply a bit of hindsight now, in order to place everything into God and into a true perspective. Two things of importance were happening with me. One was the conflicting stories of self that I knew regarding myself, a conflict that showed itself clearly in my first attempts at writing and that would not be resolved until the week before I sent out my first Christ Our Life letter in November of 2008.

My real struggle was inward with the argument of the serpent, coming through the theology of the word preached, that Christ was not my life, and that I had a life not-Christ. All through these years, I knew the development of two opposing stories. On the one hand, God was planting His word as Christ inside of me and my knowledge of the grace of God always grew, even though it seemed to grow slowly. But on the other hand there was the fear that was engendered by the false belief that there was something terribly wrong with me. 

I would know both stories intimately and through great pressure and in every imaginable relationship situation.

But the other reality governing my life through all these years was God’s unbelievable intention towards me. This was a passage through which I must pass in order to have what I presently possess in order to share life with you.

How could I now divide for you between life and death, by the fine cut of the knife, if I did not know both in all closeness. That which is destructive so easily appears to be life and that which is life-giving so easily appears to be destructive. When a reader speaks words to me that are destructive, but that they imagine to be “Christian,” having known such words through their entire Christian experience, the separation between the false and the true cuts through me like the finest and sharpest of blades. 

I know the difference. And I know the difference because of this incredible path upon which God walked with me. And because I never spoke against, but honored even those who were not always treating me right, I am also able to bear with that cutting in the present time and to show to the one speaking the wondrous goodness of Christ our only life.

School and Writing 
The spring semester of 1993 was my last in the Blueberry school. I taught there for seven years. I don’t remember much from this final semester. I see from my layout that I must have taught College Geography again, this time as the sole teacher. At the end of this school-year, I saw my second five-year group, including Paul Austin, Chris Kidd, and Jesse Rehmeier graduate from high school.

The desire to write had been with me since I was a teenager, but having something to write had not yet come. Probably because of an ongoing conversation with me regarding that desire, Paul Austin told me that he wanted to help provide for that newly awakening direction for my life. Paul bought me my first word processing-typewriter, a Sharpe, I believe. It was an electric typewriter, yes, but with a small screen that would show a line of text before it then printed it onto the page. That way I could see my words before the typewriter printed them accurately.

This was one of the most precious gifts to me anyone has ever given. I placed it on our little dining room table and began to write. I had two books in my heart at that time; one of them I titled “The Unveiling of Jesus Christ,” and the other, “The Great Story of God.” In the end, these two merged into one volume, which I would complete through 1994. I will share more of that in the next chapter.

So my first thoughts in those directions began to appear on the little screen in front of me. 

One thing I do remember from that semester that I must include was that Lloyd Green taught a class in the high school, I believe it included Anita Deardorff, Wendy Rehmeier and Stephanie Ebright. His classroom was next to mine and I could hear his words to them as my own students were studying. I heard, but could hardly believe, for he spoke in a quiet undertone such contempt and rebellion against the elders to those girls. He was very good at presenting a different face publicly, but it was not just towards me that his words brought ruin and loss.

God with Me
As I said in my last letter, do not think that any difficulty could separate me from my ongoing relationship with God or my desire to know Him by His word. And so I want to include a number of things that won’t be connected by any sequence of time.

First, through this season, I had a most extraordinary dream. I will give words now to that dream, words that are accurate, but which I may not have known then. In my dream, I found myself entirely inside of Jesus and I found Jesus entirely inside of me. 

Union with God had been a growing topic in the move through the early 1990’s. John Clarke had preached on it. In fact, it had been Sam Fife’s view of our entrance into the Holy of Holies. Nonetheless, such a life was always presented as something to be attained, yet remaining now just beyond our reach.

In my dream, I KNEW that very union with Christ now. And inside knowing that union, I knew NO consciousness of sins. 

When I woke up, it was not long before the theology of “sin in the flesh” and all the terrible feelings that come with it, came rushing back in. Nonetheless, I knew that what I had known in my dream was real. I shared that dream with the family in the sharing service. I presented what I knew in that dream as our goal, rather than our present reality as I know it now. Sister Sue Sampson got up after and shared how much that vision of our union with Christ meant to her. Sadly, we did not know that it was already and entirely true.

I had another dream in which my dad came to me and held me in his arms and comforted my heart with peace. When I shared that dream with Sister Charity, she cautioned me that it was just a good vision from the Lord and not really my dad. I appreciate fully her purpose, for those who seek to communicate with the dead will be caught in their own vanity by glorious but false spirits. Nonetheless, I still think it was actually my dad coming to me in the heavens.

At the same time, through these months I wrestled with the call of God upon my life in deep groanings. I would read the first several chapters of Ezekiel or the first several chapters of Deuteronomy and my spirit would groan with a knowing beyond what my mind knew. I never tried to make anything mental out of those times, I just held them before God.

I was troubled by how easily I forgot what God speaks in His word. And so, through these years, many more times than once, I would press my Bible against my chest and, in great tears before God, I said, “Oh my Father, if it be possible, write this Word upon my heart so that I might never forget what You speak.”

God was also speaking to me about my role towards His people, but in cryptic ways, which means I really had no idea what He meant. Of truth, what God means can come only out from an utter rest inside of knowing our already completed union with the Lord Jesus Christ.

I read the book, Pass Me Another Brick, by Charles Swindoll, concerning the meaning of Nehemiah’s story. God spoke things of great meaning to me through this book. In fact, you have read my referencing those things many times through my letters. Maureen and I both read How You Can Be Led by the Spirit of God, by Kenneth Hagin, which gave us a very different view of walking with God, in liberty and joy rather than the obligation and falling short that was the common view of the move and, indeed, of most of Christianity. 

I pondered the meaning of community inside the anointing of God, often in the services, and God began to show me some things about His ways that could shape a new Blair Valley community. If you have read my text, Symmorphy V: Life, you will have received many of those things fully developed that were then coming to me in beginning form.

It was in these early months of 1993 that God planted in me a vision for the community of my heart. With the words, “Blair Valley will be your home,” I took that to mean that, just as my Father had brought Maureen to me, so He would bring to me a people who would know God together with me as I had covenanted with Him to do. In myself, I was as incapable of the one as of the other.

At the same time, God was speaking to me from a different point of view, that which I had learned in my study of the lives of Saul, David, and Absalom – what do you do when someone throws a spear at you? Except in getting my full attention, God had included the strongest example of Christian rebellion in the Bible, even more than Absalom – Numbers 16 – the rebellion of Korah.

“Who do you think you are, Moses? God speaks to all of us, not just to you.”

This finger of God would only increase against me through our time in Oregon, this agony of seeing shortfall in those whom God had placed over me in my life. How would I respond?

Continued Sorrow 
There were darker things, however, that seemed to conflict with these wondrous things I was beginning to perceive in my relationship with God. Again, these are not connected by time, for I have no idea what happened when.

Eric Foster was driving a logging truck for the NorthStar company. He had pulled off the Alaska Highway to check his load. A pickup was driving by containing a man and his teenage nephew. The driver did not see the corner of Eric’s truck and hit it head on. Both of those in the pickup were killed. The police determined that Eric was not at fault, and Gary Rehmeier must have connected in some way with the family in Fort St. John who lost their son.

Out from that experience, Brother Gary preached a word to the Blueberry family that sums up the kind of “God” we believed we lived under, the attitude of the eldership towards the family, and the dark belief of Nicene Christianity under which we all have labored. You see, we were preached at and exhorted so often that we who were not elders were NOT measuring up to the word or to the requirements of God. We heard so often that we were fleshy and unsubmissive. I would not really understand this attitude until 1996 when I sat with them as an elder. 

Brother Gary shared about how this young man who was killed was taken in a moment. There was great sobriety upon his words. He shared about another young man in a move community in Peru who had “rebelled against the elders” and had left the community, who was then killed by some accident only a few days later. The insinuation was clear; if we did not get with it and be obedient to God and submissive to the elders, then we could expect a like punishment from God.

That sounds starker, maybe, than Gary preached it, but it is much better to reduce things down to what is actually being said so that those things can be clearly seen. And I in no way “blame” Gary, for he was sincere in what he thought God meant. Nonetheless, this was the clearest example of using God as one’s whip that I have heard. 

Through these months, Sister Charity spoke several more things to me that were dark (in the midst of all the good things). One time, little Kyle was running excitedly around the dining room with Maureen trying to catch him. Sister Charity warned me, “You have to get control of him, Daniel, or else he will be lost.” I can say to you now that I have stood against that word all the way through and if you would know my son now, you would know just how false that dark prophecy really was. 

As we were all preparing to leave Blueberry, with the Howat’s going back to Washington state and Maureen and I to Oregon, Sister Charity said to me, “God isn’t doing anything in the Pacific Northwest.” I will show you how God proved those words completely wrong through both Don and me. 

Then, in counseling with Sister Charity, she spoke dismissively concerning my mother, indicating that she was not mature in God. I knew this was not true, and I will say now that my mother was more mature in God than Sister Charity. God’s measurements are very different from the human definitions found among those who see by outward appearance.

Again, I am NOT sharing these things to disparage Sister Charity, for I received more goodness from her than just about anyone in my life. In fact, I am convinced that Charity, after she passed into the heavens, sought out my mother from her driving desire to know the truth of Christ. But that is a topic for a later chapter. The reason I am sharing this is to show this gauntlet of God pressing against me, words that would sink deep inside that caused me to run and run and run with all my being into the knowledge of God.

Partly because I seemingly had not been honored in my work in the community and partly, probably, from Lloyd Green’s influence, some of the young men whom I had taught in school now began to mock me just a bit in the work times. I did not understand this and bore it only inside of increased sorrow and shame.

Because the shop and washhouse were not getting done, the eldership decided that we should have a large work weekend with all the men of the community, including those who worked out, all working inside one or the other of those buildings, putting in the insulation and the sheetrock or plywood sheeting on the walls. As I had said, the proposed “planning” system was not real, and so, I led this whole project as well. 

My problem was that I had begun feeling a physical weakness, including the pain in the liver area. I had gone to the hospital, but it was a different doctor than Dr. Watt. I shared about doing the gall bladder cleanse and was informed that such a thing was stupid and unreal. They took x-rays and told me that my intestines were plugged a bit, basically, that I was full of crap. 

This diagnosis added to some of the contempt I was feeling from some. The continued physical weakness prevented me from doing much physical work that weekend, and so, I felt a sense of “we neither want nor need you, Daniel,” coming from some. 

Don did have me meet together with Randy and Bryan concerning finishing the shop. I shared that I was sensing that my time in bearing the construction needs of the community was coming to an end. They did not understand what I meant.

My point is this, slowly, there came the growing sense of sorrow that I no longer belonged at Blueberry. This was the doing of God, for His purposes were far greater.

The February convention was held at Blueberry in this early part of 1993. During this convention, the ministry of the move considered more specifically the reopening of the former Shiloh farm as a new Blair Valley Community. At that point, several different elders from the area had expressed a leading, that God was speaking to them about being part of that new endeavor. Maureen and my leading to Blair Valley was also considered as part of that discussion, but we did not know yet who the other people were. 

After the convention, Wes Shaw asked Maureen and me if we would spend a few days with him at Blair Valley as he was taking a care-taking stint there. We leapt at the chance to spend more time there inside the present speaking of God. It was early March, with long nights and short days still, and a few feet of snow everywhere. We stayed in the same caretaker’s house. 

For some reason, however, both Maureen and I felt uncomfortable inside, not for any outward reason, but something inside our spirits was troubled. On the way back to Blueberry, Wes shared that he was one who was planning to be a part of the new Blair Valley, which was why it had been Wes communicating with us concerning our leading. This was a shock to us, yes, but both Maureen and I felt immediately a disconnect, that something was not right.

Even as the various families did move to Blair Valley to begin the new community that summer of 1993, with Wes Shaw among them, we continued to feel troubled. We had no outward reason to think that way, but even though I continued to believe that Blair Valley was God’s destination for us, the present sense was a very strong, “Not yet.”

By May, we knew that Maureen was carrying our second child. 

Preparing to Leave
Our plan was simply to return to Oregon and to live with Mom, with the hopes that we could continue to work on an immigration business possibility there. She had plenty of space for us in her large upstairs “apartment” in our house. And so that’s the direction of our face the last couple of months we were at Blueberry.

A couple at the Evergreen community hired me to draw a set of plans for a new house they wanted to build. They had the funds to do it right, and so I was able to charge what such a job was worth. This income helped provide for our move back to Oregon.

My brother Glenn had acquired a Chevy Step-Van which he had begun to fix up for his welding work. However, mom negotiated with him that she would pay him to give it to us. Glenn had completely rebuilt the engine – it ran on propane. He had put a heavy steel floor throughout and a heavy-duty bumper. He had painted it blue and installed two nice seats that Franz gave him for us.

Sometime in May I bussed down to Oregon and drove back up with our new Blue Van. I planned carefully how everything would fit and we loaded it with all of our stuff. We set up our mattress, however, so that we could sleep in the van on the way. We positioned Kyle’s car seat just behind Maureen and strapped it to a steel bar.

I am sharing two pictures of our Blue Van as we were preparing to leave. This van will factor much in our lives through the coming years. I loved it a whole lot, and I miss it very much. 


Brother Claude is saying goodbye to us; the Dave Smillie cabin is behind him and our cabin on the right. Then, the school is on the right and the tabernacle on the left in the lower picture. The cabin in the distance was the Ebright cabin; it would become our home as well in a few years.

Before we left, however, the family at Blueberry put on a special occasion, a banquet, for all of us who were leaving at the same time. They had prepared a large table in the center of the dining room. The rest of the family ate their regular dinner, but William Brown, who had been a chef at a top-notch hotel, cooked us a many-course meal and Sir James Barlow, who had served as a waiter in a fine restaurant in Northern Ireland and who conducted himself as the finest of the English aristocracy, served us. It was a meal for which one would have gladly paid $100 a plate. When we were finished, different ones of the family shared what each of us had meant to the Blueberry Community. 

Don and Martha Howat would be going to Sequim, Washington, where Don’s brother lived, Terry Miller to the Lubbock, Texas community, Mike Pelletier to his home state of Massachusetts and Laura Weitz to her home state of Wisconsin. I’m not sure where Sister Mozelle was headed, though she did end up in the Atlanta area.

And so we drove out together, Maureen, Kyle, and I, to a new adventure. Seven years of Blueberry were behind me; I was 36 years old.

Back Home at Mom’s
I loved the trip down in our van. I loved sleeping along the road and then climbing right into the driver’s seat while Maureen and Kyle remained in bed. We spent a couple of days with the Pacy’s in Abbotsford. We have a hilarious picture of their goat chasing Kyle. We arrived back home in Oregon the first week of June and to the bedroom that had been mine through my teenage years. 

Having Maureen now sharing my own home as hers was just wonderful to me. Showing little Kyle all around, splashing in the mud puddles, playing in the yard where I had played, was such a joy. 

I set myself right away towards developing a business for immigration to Canada. I had chosen the nursery and gardening business because it featured high on the list of preferred businesses for Canadian immigration and because I have always loved growing things. Our living costs were low, we added little to utilities, and we ate out of the gardens and out of mom’s pantry. Mom agreed that I could spend a few months devoting myself to this potential business. 

In Oregon, gardens can’t start until the first of June because April and May are just too wet to even work the ground. Mom had moved her garden from the old, worn-out garden area to the space just to the east of the house, right on the other side of the yard fence. Just to the north of the yard and driveway, in the same open field, I prepared a space for my own garden. I was ambitious, and I made it large. I kept the diagram of it, where everything was planted, for many years, but I don’t know if I have it still.

I dug out three rows of raised beds, running east and west, with nine beds in each row, and each bed maybe 3 feet wide and 15 or 20 feet long. The ground was sloped gently down and faced Buzzard’s Butte across Crabtree Creek. I planted a lot of stuff, and this being Oregon, my garden grew abundantly. 

By July, Maureen and I were taking produce from the garden to a farmer’s market in Lebanon each Saturday. We were beginning to experience “business.” We sold lots of raspberries, a few green beans, and not much else. I built several lovely herb boxes out of cedar wood and offered them for sale with herb plants in them. None sold. We were off to a very slow start.

Glenn and Kim with their three children, now (their second daughter, Jessica, had been born), lived in the main part of the house. Glenn operated a welding shop in the barn I had helped dad put the roof on years before. He had a steady flow of work. Frieda and Tim, with their two children, April and Ryan, now lived in a house in Canby, Oregon, about fifty miles north of us. 

Right off the bat, we started having Sunday morning services in the main living room of the house – Glenn and Kim’s living room. It was Mom, Glenn and Kim, and Maureen in attendance, with Frieda coming down often, along with April and Ryan. Maureen led the praise and I shared the word. They all took the things that I shared very seriously and were open to Christian community.

During this summer of 1993, Dan Ricciardelli visited us with his family. Dan was a traveling ministry in the move and he shared the word with us who were gathered at Mom’s. They spent several days with us, during which we hiked the Silver Creek Falls park. While they were with us, John and Nathel Clarke also came through. I drove all of us up to Gresham to the Rutledge’s, but could not find their house until the evening was mostly gone. There was time, then, only for Brother John to share briefly with the group gathered there. It was not one of my better attempts at navigation.

My Family
I am brought up short in the present moment regarding my natural family. At the present time we are scattered all over the continent. We have little face-to-face connection, and I am not a long-distance communicator. All have known great wounds; not all are walking closely with God. Some followed me into move community – and then I left the move! Although there is understandably some bitterness, I also know that there is a genuine love among us.

Yet I ever remember the covenant my dad made with God in tears concerning me, and the faithfulness of God in keeping that covenant. My mother, continuing in her own family traditions, had made a beautiful quilt for each of her children. Mine might have been the first; I took it with me when I first went to Graham River, and it was my bed cover until Maureen and I were married. In its old age it became a favorite outing blanket for my children. But Mom did not stop with her children; she continued right on to make a quilt for every one of her grandchildren as well, each one unique and beautiful, twenty-six in all over many years. 

My mom is one of the greatest women of faith and faithfulness that I have known. It is not possible that she did not pour her heart out in the expectation of God for each one as she spent weeks and months crafting each quilt as her work of love and her covenant with God for her children and her grandchildren.

My sister, Frieda told me that she and her children followed me into move community because she saw the change in me and knew that it was God. 

You are My Son, today I have begotten You. Ask of Me, and I will give You the nations for Your inheritance, and the ends of the earth for Your possession (Psalm 2:7-8). I have the right to be a son of God, for Christ Jesus is the only life I am. I have the authority from God to lay down my life for the sake of those whom He has given to me.

I would honor my father and my mother. And I would covenant with God for the sake of all who belong to them, many more than twenty-six when you count those whom we have married and our own grandchildren as well. It is my right and my authority, that they would see the proof of Christ in me as God returns us back into Christ Community in the present season, and that each one would run into the Lord Jesus Christ in all fullness as the gates of Tabernacles are flung wide open. Let any cost fall upon me, for my Father shares all with me. 

Many Moves
Franz and Audrey had returned to Oregon several years before and were renting a house on the south side of Lebanon. They had taken a principled stand in Nebraska regarding homeschooling at a time when it was illegal. Franz was charged and went to trial, but he sent Audrey and their children to Oregon where they would no longer be subject to such false law. Franz defended himself in court and won. His case was written up in newspaper accounts and helped change the law in Nebraska for other families. 

The place Franz rented had a small shop and a large yard area. He had started a bee business that included making and selling wooden bee boxes and frames as well as raising bees for honey. This would be his livelihood for many years – Snow Peak Apiaries.

Prior to our return to Oregon, a disagreement had arisen between Franz and Glenn regarding mom’s property. To mom, it should go to Glenn and Kim since they had remained at home to care for her and dad. Yet Franz also felt a claim to the property, since he was the eldest and had helped dad to build the first parts of the house. 

We did not realize at the time, but Franz was beginning a slow decline into a mental disability that made him see things darkly. Frieda believes it might have stemmed from the accident in Michigan, when Franz had been badly battered as a boy. Glenn was still in his twenties and did not take kindly to some of the ways in which Franz moved. A reciprocal animosity had begun to grow between them.

And – I am sharing Franz’s difficulties through these years because they did color many of our decisions and because I intend to bring these difficulties to a very specific conclusion inside the Lord Jesus much later in this narrative. In sharing these things, however, I place my brother entirely into the goodness and grace of God, and any difficulties there may have been, I see only as resulting in the goodness of God. Nonetheless, through this time, I did not understand his disability and held him responsible for his confusing actions. Should not our oldest brother know better? I am so glad that I no longer see it that way.

Glenn and Kim made the decision to leave Oregon and all the promise of continued contention far behind them. This was a big deal, for Oregon was all they knew, and Kim, also, was very close to her family who lived just a few miles away. They made the decision to move to a Christian community in Detroit Lakes, Minnesota, that was part of the move fellowship. I handled much of the communication with the move ministry and with the Detroit Lakes eldership. The visions that were sought were confirming, and so Glenn and Kim prepared to move with all their belongings.

This would mean, then, that the property and mom’s house would go to Franz and his family, now four children, Jason, who was in his early twenties, and Rachelle, just a couple of years younger. Then Nathan and Camilla were quite a bit younger. In fact, Nathan spent more of his childhood and youth calling that place home than I did. 

And it would also mean that Maureen and I would need to find a place elsewhere. Mom chose to come with us and leave Franz and Audrey free to make the place their own. So, we went to see the man who owned the house where Franz and Audrey had lived. He readily agreed that Maureen and I could rent it at $500 a month. 

And so, while Glenn and Kim were preparing to move to Minnesota, Franz and Audrey were preparing to move out to the house in Lacomb, and Maureen, mom, and I were preparing to move to their house in Lebanon. I do not remember the timing of any of this, just that it all took place in August. I am very glad that we had our Blue Van; it was a workhorse. 

Glenn had built a large trailer onto which he loaded all of his work tools, etc. He pulled that with his pickup loaded full. Then, he asked me to drive his Bronco, also filled with stuff. I might have also pulled a rented trailer. And so, in the midst of all these moves, I helped Glenn and Kim in their move to Minnesota. I remember stopping at a rest stop along the way, somewhere in Montana, and sleeping in our vehicles. 

The brethren at Detroit Lakes had found a mobile home in the nearby town that Glenn and Kim could rent. They would be a part of the community as much as possible, however. Glenn soon found work at a manufacturing facility. They were well-received by the brethren there and fitted right into the family life. 

Glenn bought a train ticket for my return, and so, I hopped on the Amtrak passing through Detroit Lakes and took the northern route across the prairies and through the Montana mountains. I really enjoyed the leisurely trip with comfortable seats and the liberty to walk around, including going to the dining car. It was much better than the bus. Seeing the Rockies via the train track route was awesome as well. This was one of so many treasured experiences God has given me.

Upon my return to Oregon, we settled into our new home on South Main Road in Lebanon. This would be our home for almost two years. The pictures are as it is today, mostly the same.




Country Herb Gardens
Let me begin by describing our new home. This was a good home for us, filled with blessing and many good memories. The front wing out towards the road was a large living room with an alcove on the left that became my office. The living room was one room with the dining room, whose window you see in the right side picture as the middle window, towards the back. Then, the last window is a small downstairs bedroom. In the left side picture, the wing in the back is the large kitchen and the bathroom, with an enclosed porch entry. The back roof had been enclosed as two bedrooms inside the low slope, accessed by a steep stairway. Maureen and I took the one on the right and we put Kyle into the one on the left. Mom took the downstairs bedroom.

Behind the house was a separate garage with a nice workroom on the side closest to the house. The yard was large and closed in with a solid double-high block wall along one side and a thick row of trees on the other side. Inside this large area were several apple trees, rose bushes, a grape vine and a large garden area. One difference is that we did not have a fence along the road, which was not a good thing. But we felt very tucked in and protected. A nice grocery store was just down the street and a smaller-sized Walmart was only a couple of blocks behind us. We were still in town, but the houses were thinning out and countryside was not far off.

Mom agreed to continue to support our living costs while I worked on starting a new business. On the one hand, I had a wonderful space for the business. Because our space was part of the rental shop next door, it was zoned commercial. I had plenty of room for gardens and several greenhouses with a good shop and work room right in the center. One drawback, however, was that my large garden was still out in Lacomb and we had to drive out to Franz and Audrey’s place now to work and harvest it. 

In August there was a move convention in Vancouver, British Columbia. We attended with mom; my sister Frieda also came with us and probably her two children, April and Ryan, who were now young adults. This was the first time they participated in a move convention with the power of a third feast word and the strength of the praise. Brother D and Sister Ethelwyn were there, and I remember in particular the profound word that she shared.

My business idea was to set up several greenhouses and to grow plant starts for sale, primarily herbs. I called it Country Herb Gardens. I tackled creating a business with all seriousness. I researched writing a business plan and sought council from local business-minded people. I spent about a month creating my business plan. It is well-executed and is one of my favorite creations. I took all the legal steps necessary. 

My brother had conducted his business entirely without any contact with the city officials. I wanted to “submit to the elders,” so I applied for full zoning recognition. They had some requirements, however, including that I must put in a concrete driveway so that customer traffic would not carry gravel out onto the street. All this went into the business plan.

Part of my preparation for business, then, was that I enrolled in Linn-Benton Community College to take courses on plants and the nursery business. I don’t remember all that I took, but one course was Botany, which study I enjoyed very much. Another part of our research was trips up to the Portland area to see similar nursery businesses and to connect with various suppliers. I found a specific type of greenhouse that was brilliantly designed. A single one would cost around $8000, but it would start us off in strength. So – that also went into my business plan.

What I needed, of course, was capital, specifically $16,000, which would be sufficient to begin well. So, with that in mind, Maureen and I, with Kyle, flew down to the October Bowens Mill convention. Maureen remembers that Frieda also went with us. We counseled with Brother Buddy Cobb near the beginning of the convention. He connected us with a sister in the move who would look at my business plan and who could possibly connect us with capital. Meanwhile, Brother Buddy asked for visions to be sought for our new endeavor. We shared the business plan with the sister and then enjoyed the continuing convention.

I remember that Kyle, just past two, found several girls older than he, whom he could entice into chasing him across the lawns. He had great fun with their enthusiasm. 

At the end of the convention, we spoke again with Brother Buddy. He gave us the visions and told us, rather abruptly, that they were negative and that the sister had said, “It will not work.” And so, that was the end of that.

When we got back home, I canceled my enrollment at the community college and began to look for a construction job to support our living.

I do have some regrets, of course, for I would have loved to have obtained that greenhouse and to have worked that business plan. Nonetheless, my heart was set on immigrating to Canada, on the one hand, and I had no idea of the importance of selling, selling, selling, on the other hand. The truth is that a successful business in Oregon would have its success by fully-developed connections in Oregon. You don’t just disconnect such a business there and then re-connect the same things in Fort St. John. A successful Country Herb Gardens would have meant our remaining in Oregon. That may have been a good thing, but it would not have taken me where I will go, into the knowledge of Father with me and of a people who know Father with us together.

Working for Terry Williams
To search for work, I went down to a local temp service and signed up with them. The gentleman who counseled me fitted me immediately with a man by the name of Terry Williams who did construction work and who hired all his workers through this temp service. And so, by the first of November, I was working full time for Terry Williams, mostly framing houses. He was a wheeler and dealer and preferred to be “the businessman,” and so quite soon I was his crew leader. 

I would work for Terry Williams for about four months. It was a bit brutal, hard work on the one hand, but the guy did not know how to speak without using cuss words, a minimum of one per sentence. And then, he was a “bang it together and get on to the next job” kind of contractor, a big ego and a little mind. One job we did was his own house which he was constructing about halfway to Lacomb. I started taking the time to make the end of his roof trusses straight. He shouted at me with curses to stop wasting time and bang it together. His facia board, then, was as crooked as a dog’s hind leg, but he did not care.

It was income for us and it was reasonable for me for a couple of months. But more on that in the next chapter.  

Because my spare time was no longer engaged with planning a business, I turned that time to developing the book I had long hoped to write.
 
Johanna on Her Way
Meanwhile our first baby girl was well on her way. The due date would be at the end of January. We both wanted a home-birth this time. For one thing, connecting with American hospitals was expensive and difficult. But we both had embraced a natural lifestyle fully and wanted a purity for our children. We connected with a local midwife with the thought of preparing for a home birth.

After the first meeting with this midwife, however, Maureen felt that the fit was not right. And so, before the end of December, we communicated with the Blueberry eldership and they gave us a green light for Maureen and Kyle to come up and for our baby to be born at Blueberry with Sister Terri Rehmeier as our midwife.

And so we made plans for me to drive Maureen and Kyle up the first week of January, but then for me to come back home to continue working.