PART FIVE – Moon River to Harvest Haven (cont.)
Shortly after the event, while sitting in the living room, I had a vision of the Lord standing on the loft balcony of our home, looking north-northwest, in the direction of Alan Orr’s property, swinging an iron rod in fury and bringing judgment. He had Seven Names, which I was commanded not to utter or reveal. Was there a name for each of the seven major players?
Thereafter followed tragedies of these people, not all of them major players:
Ron Crighton died of painful prostate cancer shortly after the event.
Frank Eden moved away and shortly after found himself in hot criticism by the public as an executive of the Chinook Health Region. I had discovered firsthand that criticism was something he could never stand, so he got more, which is how things work.
Jim King was angry he was implicated in the monetary ambitions of the executive, protesting he wasn’t involved. That was all he had to say at the meeting. I believe he wasn’t involved, yet in spirit was complicit; while aware, he wasn’t willing to support an honest effort to help the community.
Jim King’s son got in trouble with the law for fraud with a bank. Years later, seeing Jim’s home vacant for a long time, I discovered his wife, Pat, had left him, though I have heard since then that their marriage was restored.
Byron Neu’s son, Anders, was frequently in trouble with the law, bringing grief to his parents, who simply wouldn’t listen to my reports and requests to restrain Anders; Byron scorned me instead. They wouldn’t listen to me and Anders wouldn’t listen to them. After some years, Byron and Debbie divorced, and she fell ill to cancer.
I heard Clarence, Al Wheeler, and others lost their investments in the course because it all went under as we knew it would, though Clarence likely made money on the acreage he got from his Reform friend, John.
A few years later, Clarence and his wife, Joanna, whom the Lord revealed to me was the power center of Moon River, moved away, very bitter toward me. This was relayed to me by the Overbeeks, who bought the Arnoldussen home.
In 2003, Arnoldussen’s son, Joel, who had troubled us constantly, committed suicide or died by overdose of drugs, in the fourteenth year after the fire hall event.
John Van de Merwe seemed to be okay for years. However, he favored Clarence at the meeting and certainly took no stand for truth. Later, he would discover Clarence had purchased the lot from him for a song, in speculation of the golf course. John told me recently he had fallen into serious, prolonged depression and illness, losing much weight and looking quite haggard.
A note of commendation for John: He has been a friendly neighbor; he has helped us with car boosts when needed, without charge. But, oy vey, his wife, Isabel, with a face of granite stone, could never bring herself to wave to us as she drove by, though I waved many times.
Ed Langford was not there the night of the dark meeting, but sought to profit on the golf course development and was upset with me for not getting involved in the community thereafter. It wasn’t long before he died of a horrible cancer eating away at his jaw.
Alan Orr, the ambitious developer, went bankrupt, moving back with his wife and five or six children into his mother’s home. A bit embarrassing for the developer of a whole community of homes.
Brent Derricott, a shady character indeed, was reported running from the law, last I heard, sought by Asian investors who were bilked by him.
Walter Burton soon moved away, selling his house below market value.
George Kush had no friends in the community and has been bitter toward me for temporarily ignoring him. His wife, Josephine, has been quite friendly and ever cheerful.
For a long while, it seemed that nothing happened to Al Wheeler, though we know his wife, Kay, was a driving force in his conduct, “the hand behind the throne.” I recently found out they lost a son a few years ago, and Al died with dementia or Alzheimer’s.
The patio doors to our back deck were low and narrow. I had the impression Bill Syme had chosen these because he was trying to be energy-efficient. They were so inconvenient, however, it was difficult to do so much as carry a tray out on deck. We replaced the doors with wider ones and put an ad in the paper to sell the former.
An elderly Mormon couple from another town responded to the ad and came for the doors with their pickup truck. I helped the man load. We took one door, laid it down on the bed of his truck box, covered it with a blanket, and went back for the other half of the door system. I took the initiative to get up on the truck with my end of the patio door. I completely forgot about the door on the truck floor. I stepped right on top of it.
“Crunch, tinkle, tinkle!” went the glass under my army boots. My heart immediately sank like a rock in free fall – on two counts: the embarrassment of the foolishness of such an imbecilic move, and the financial loss.
“Oh no!” I cried out in alarm while the fellow immediately hung his head in what appeared to be quiet shock, embarrassment, and disappointment, perhaps not only for himself, but also for me. Having clearly heard the breaking of the glass, we were immediately resigned to an altogether new scenario in our transaction, socially and business-wise.
We set the second door down by the side of the truck. I moaned, groaned, and apologized, feeling so foolish. I slowly bent down to remove the blanket covering the broken glass to begin cleaning the mess.
I pulled it back and saw nothing amiss. I looked again, this time examining the whole door and couldn’t believe my eyes. There was no broken glass! Yet we had both heard the unmistakable sound and fully expected to see the inescapable consequences. There lay the door, perfectly fine. I checked it all over, again and again, not quite able to believe it. Of course, he also checked, quite carefully. There was no break; there was not even so much as a fine crack. I was astounded. The gentleman shook his head in amazement. “Somebody up there is certainly watching over you!” he quietly exclaimed.
I felt like crying and rejoicing at the same time. Then and there, I was moved to quietly but audibly thank the Lord. I then had to declare to the fellow how we knew the Lord was taking care of us.
Why had the Lord done this for me? Why didn’t He likewise cover for me in so many other situations? I had no answers to these questions until now, years later, as I write about this. Given the sorrow we were feeling from the horrible experience we had recently gone through with the Moon River executive and community, perhaps God had done this as an encouragement. I have known Him to do that. As well, He was giving a testimony to the Mormon couple that He was looking after us, who were not Mormons, in spite of my foolishness.
I also recall how He had revealed to us, by a second dream back in those days, our innocence concerning Dr. Lorne Rabuka and Wally Hlewka, when Wally turned away from following the Lord after I “lost it,” to my great sorrow.
I was to discover the Lord doing so much more for us as a result of that fateful day of November 10th at the Moon River fire hall.
Who says there is no God?
What a wonder and totally unexpected blessing it was when, after the “lynching,” spiritual healings poured in for me, one after another. I have logged close to seventy. What seemed like falling headlong into a deep pit was actually stumbling upon a giant, priceless treasure trove!
The first healing I noticed, and marveled at, was finding myself immediately resting on Sundays in a way I never had before, not because there was anything special about Sundays, but because I had always known only anxiety and restlessness on that day though I never really realized what was going on.
After the healing, the Lord revealed the root cause of the torment. As children, we were taken to church every Sunday to attend Mass at the Ukrainian Catholic Church in Dauphin. Those mornings were very troubling.
Dad and Mom were usually in a bit of a panic. I don’t believe anyone really wanted to go to church, not even the parents. Farm chores would have to be done earlier, we would rush through breakfast, and washing up was a chore in itself. We would have to dress in our Sunday best, with ill-fitting clothes and uncomfortable dress shoes.
Often late, we were forced to finish our grooming and cleansing on the way to town in our ‘52 Ford. To wash the dirt from our ears and the mucous from our eyes, my mother would turn around in her front seat to face us in the back, spitting on a handkerchief and wiping us down. My ears were sometimes a bit sore from the ordeal.
The church was crammed with people, the air was stuffy with windows closed, particularly in winter, and the frankincense used in the Mass and the body odor and perfume of poor older people mingled to stifle the air and make one nauseous. The Mass was in Slavonic, a foreign language of which we had little to no understanding. The whole event, lasting about one and a half hours, was ceremonial, formal, and utterly boring.
Besides, we had to confess our sins to the priest, which was never pleasant. Do this week after week for years in your childhood and see if you don’t get conditioned to feel troubled and restless on that day of the week.
Well, the Lord healed me of that trauma I wasn’t even aware I had. The Moon River fire hall conflagration was cleansing me! Ironically, the fire hall began to represent fire produced, not doused; desired, not feared; for good, not evil.
One might think the traumatic experience of being trashed by the executive would bring nightmares. Instead, the horrid event erased many old tormenting dreams plaguing me over the years since childhood. Some of them I’ve already recounted – here and here – plus others.
Who says there is no God?
Other healings were personality related. The Lord was removing fears, misconceptions, and scars. It was a time of new beginnings, as Marilyn had received on July 10, 1986. It was as though I was put in a furnace, in which the fire destroyed impurities in me.
One of the healings…
I had a terrible habit of indecision after the fact, and of doubts and regrets. Doing something, I would later think I shouldn’t have, or having not done something, feeling I should have. What torment! A major part of it was removed that night.
However, I’ve also learned one must be on guard against habits reappearing and retrenching themselves. As Jesus said:
“Behold, you are made whole. Sin no more, lest a worse thing come to you” (John 5:14 MKJV).
I had gotten into a careless habit of visiting rather often with the neighbors, particularly Kay Wheeler across the road from us, who was always at home in her yard and ready to gossip. It seems I had become a part-time busybody. We got into conversations about several people for which I am now ashamed. The conflagration at the Moon River fire hall put an end to it, thankfully.
The hobnobbing with Wheelers came to an end because they were offended with my stance against the Crighton golf course, but hobnobbing in general ended for me by the fire hall correction.
The Lord has employed two factors for humbling me, to various degrees, all my Christian life. One has been my problem with food and weight. I simply have eaten too much and have only been able to limit my intake and reduce weight when granted the grace to do so. It has been no end of trouble and torment for me.
The second has been my mental and emotional troubling, usually occurring in the night and especially in the wee hours of the morning. I would be troubled about so many things, yet none of them really meant anything or had any root in sin, or were a true threat of any kind.
Marilyn has spent literally thousands of hours over the years, patiently working with me in those troubled times. Sometimes, I was okay; at other times, we spent three, four, or more hours talking. Often, it would be talking about the same things or sorts of things. Seldom, if ever, was anything satisfactorily or permanently resolved.
Much of this second problem dissipated when I received my healings on the heels of the conflagration.
News spread that the executive trashed us, and we were soon shunned by our neighbors. Whether out of fear or contempt, people naturally tend to shy away from any discussion or involvement with those who have lost or failed. When Jesus Christ was arrested and condemned to death, people mocked and beat Him, taking pleasure in His sufferings and eventual demise. Even His closest companions abandoned Him.
But there’s a time for losing, and it’s a crucial part of the spiritual process of growth and development. Life without losing is like harvest without sowing. Seeds have to be “sacrificed” to the earth in order to bring forth new life. Everybody enjoys harvest far more than sowing. We were compelled to be “laid in the ground” for a time.
We came to understand there was far more involved than healings for me.
Shortly after the event of November 10th, I had a vision wherein I saw black angels above Harris’ house and property, cursing everything there. Sometime later, I saw in a book a picture of the crucifixion, and dark entities, very similar to those I saw over the Harris property, tormenting the dead thief who had railed on Jesus. I told Steve about these things.
Some years later, I saw his wife trying to start a stalled vehicle. A demon had caused the problem, and the demon was in her.
Is it strange that someone should have a demon?
My three brothers had devils. I have little doubt my father had them, and my sister and mother have them. My father’s father had them, as testified by others in the Hafichuk family. We have dealt with devils in my brother’s children and in many others. I’ve no doubt those condemning us at the fire hall were possessed of devils.
When Jesus walked the earth, He delivered many people of unclean spirits.
For people to be possessed of devils is far more common than most are aware. In what the Lord has given us to know and experience these past few decades, I would say it is highly likely more people have devils than do not.
Almost invariably, to see devils is to be possessed of them. We met a lady in Prince Albert at the Campbell home meetings who said she saw devils running around in her home. She was frightened. We have also met others who saw devils in their circumstances. While we could discern there were devils in people, we could never physically see them.
It wasn’t long before we realized that those who did physically see devils weren’t seeing them by the Spirit of the Lord, but by the devils residing within them. And the devils they were seeing weren’t in the outward, physical environment, but within their own being. Archie, for example, saw nine men sitting in business suits, claiming ownership of his soul. Those were evil spirits within, possessing him.
This isn’t to say that all who have devils can see them or that those who have visions of devils, in some cases, are inhabited by them.
The vast majority have no idea they’re possessed or inhabited. Neither is demonic possession something to be unduly alarmed about, lest any reading this should be frightened. Devils are subject to the Lord Jesus Christ, like it or not (and they don’t), and to those in whom Christ dwells, who, by faith, walk with Him. Whether by repentance or by the grace of God, people can be, and eventually will be, delivered from all devils.
Sometimes the deliverance comes automatically through obedience on certain points. Sometimes deliverance comes because someone is prayed for, not because the subject has repented of something, but because he or she simply needed deliverance from devils to which they hadn’t personally yielded themselves in the first place; they may have been born with them. The Second Commandment speaks of God’s visiting the iniquity of the fathers to the third and fourth generation. There comes a time when the visitation of iniquity comes to term, and the person of that final generation is released.
In January of 1990, when visiting Paul in Helena, we dropped by his work place, Davis Business Machines. There we met a new employee, Sierra Wolfe. I had seen a picture of her and was impressed. I hoped Paul had met his true lifelong partner. She was pretty and vivacious, and I liked her. She later remarked to Paul that she could sometimes see auras around people and had seen the largest she ever saw when she met me. It left her somewhat stunned.
When we returned to Canada, I wrote in my journal that Sierra was intended for Paul. At the time she was living with her boyfriend, whom she married that summer. Sometime around then, I told Paul what I had seen about her. He had also seen several things happening with Sierra that seemed to confirm this. But with his eyes ever on the prospect of getting married, his idol, he fell to disappointment and bitterness over Sierra’s marriage (though she never was a believer). He left Davis Business Machines at the end of 1992 for another job.
Sierra left Davis a few years later, moving to Wyoming, and eventually left her husband for another man she knew from childhood.
I’ve often wondered about what I heard about her being intended for Paul. We didn’t know at the time there was a problem with Paul, a giant monkey on his back that wouldn’t be removed for several years to come.
These were words I wrote to Sierra on March 9th, 1990:
“The blessings of God, the great things coming to you, which you yourself spoke of and which I’ve been informed of independently of you, are that Kingdom of God, and if you take an honest look at your past, you’ll see you’ve been under God’s wrath. And this I say not only by a given inner knowledge, but the Scriptures (God’s Word) authoritatively bear witness, which you and I know to be true.
If, as you claim, you can feel what I’m thinking, you’ll know my thoughts towards you are in compassion and for your good. You’ll also know I have much more to say to you, but it will not be forced on you, God willing. You’ll have to ask for it, even this last message, because you’ve said, ‘I don’t want to hear anymore.’
The wrath of God must continue until you say, ‘I want what’s right; I want to live according to God’s Laws, which is true freedom, and not according to my lawlessness, which is not freedom at all, but which I have called freedom.’
Concerning the wrath of God, you are being confronted by Him at this time in your life because He loves you and chooses to teach you His ways and His will for your life that His wrath could be removed from you and His blessings bestowed on you.
At this moment you fear the requirements of salvation as your destruction and choose to cling to your destruction as though it were your salvation.
You have been given to know I speak the truth and it is for your good and, if necessary, you will discover the truth of what I’m saying the hard way. Whether you choose to believe or not, every one of my words will be vindicated, and you’ll know indeed Almighty God has spoken to you.”
This prophetic letter was never delivered to her. Of what use, then, was the prophecy, or why should anyone rightfully think it was from God? Consider that when Noah built the ark, Scripture says he condemned the world, though most people in his day would not have heard of him until long after the event.
Also consider that when Jesus, at one point, spoke of several cities like Tyre, Sidon, Bethsaida, and Chorazin, He wasn’t present with or in them when He spoke. When He looked over Jerusalem and spoke His words to it, the residents didn’t hear those words. Nonetheless, those words were the expression of spiritual reality, which would be fulfilled.
In one of these years, the Lord began to impress upon me something quite significant and foundational. I was receiving we would be “going back to the basics of life.” I had no idea what it meant, and we wouldn’t know for several more years.
Many were the times when I took unjustified accusations and criticisms of others to heart, being troubled by them, sometimes for days or more, sometimes coming and going for years. One day I heard the Lord say, “From now on, before you believe something, be sure to get it from Me first.” In other words, “If it doesn’t come from Me, don’t believe it.”
We met Shawn Smith when Lois and Archie were doing some renovations for him. Shawn was single and professed faith in Jesus Christ. I believe he was going to a Baptist church at the time, perhaps Park Meadows.
Shawn had a German Shepherd he prized. It seemed to have the run of the house and would even take food off the table. Shawn would give it a mild rebuke and think no more of it. Without discipline, the dog would do whatever it chose. Shawn told us the dog was quite special, that the RCMP had recognized potential in the dog and offered to buy it. He agreed to the sale, but then changed his mind. He didn’t wish to part with the dog and reneged on his commitment.
Shawn and I spoke of the Lord and what the Lord’s will was for his life. He was not happy with the church he was at. He also had friends who weren’t content with their religious affiliation, namely a lawyer who was practicing in Pincher Creek.
While we desired to have others join in fellowship with us, I was still given the grace to direct people to a relationship with God, rather than with us or with me. As we talked, the dog came up. The Lord soon revealed to me Shawn’s dog was very important to him – too important. I was directed to call on Shawn to surrender the dog.
I received his reply not long after by letter, as well as by phone. He was very upset. He called me a legalist and declared I was preaching law and bondage. It seemed apparent he had been talking to others who also worked him up, but I knew the case was one of not being willing to part with a god, his dog. He went his way and we didn’t speak again, though I tried to write him, the essence of the letter being:
“Shawn, Jesus called on the rich young ruler to sell all he had, give it to the poor, and in so doing, he would have treasure in Heaven. Furthermore, the fellow was called upon to follow as a disciple. All you were asked to do is give up your dog! If I’m a preacher of law and bondage, what then might the Lord Jesus be? The fact is, you spell ‘God’ backwards. That’s your problem, and if you insist on keeping your god, it will not profit you at all. You are in idolatry and that is why the Lord has asked you to give it up.”
We didn’t hear from him again.
Paul met Gerald Thompson, a black man who had been in the USAF, suffered mental stress, and was now medicated, considerably incapacitated, obese, and living on social assistance in a run-down suite. Yet he was very religious and spoke as though he had much faith, knowledge, and spiritual virtue.
We had much snail-mail correspondence with him. A peculiar thing was that we received two very different kinds of letters from him with distinct attitudes and personalities. Even the handwriting was distinctly different, though we knew all the letters were from him. We believed we were dealing with devils. However, there never seemed to be any leading or opening to deal with him or them. The time would come when we were in for a surprising revelation and lesson.
The 10-year-old poplar trees the neighbors had planted on the border between us, twelve of which were on our side of the property line, were suffering, if not dying, of canker. The Arnoldussens were using chemicals to treat them.
Satisfactory results from their treatments weren’t evident, and we didn’t want chemicals anywhere near our yard, so we offered to take care of the trees. It appeared the trees wouldn’t last much longer at the rate they were going.
What did I know about trees? Nothing at all, but I asked the Lord for wisdom and He gave it (Oh, how I could have asked for wisdom so many times for much greater things! Is there anything wiser than to ask questions when we lack knowledge or understanding?). I decided to discontinue chemical treatment and give them lots of water. It worked; they revived and began to flourish. Twenty-five years later, they’re still there. They’ve given us wonderful shade as the sun rises in the east and, for the neighbors, a very effective windbreak from the strong westerly winds.
If you have those ugly black bulges called “canker” on your poplar trees, it’s likely because the trees are dying of thirst. Give them plenty of water and they’ll be fine.
I also asked the Arnoldussens to remove the cotoneaster hedge on our side of the trees, well into our property, which they did. It was forever catching garbage on our side (being downwind from the westerlies blowing across our yard). Good for them, but not for us – how selfish of me.
I planted a “wildflower” garden in one area of the border between Arnoldussens and us. Some of those were considered weeds and likely were, but not all. There were Prairie Sunflowers, Brown-Eyed Susans, Flax (which produces beautiful dainty blue flowers), and others. Joanna decided to take Roundup herbicide and spray them all.
I couldn’t believe her nerve! From our deck, I watched her do it. Realizing what she had done, I immediately tried to stop the effects, dragging my garden hose out as fast as I could and watering the flowers down, hoping to sufficiently minimize the impact. It was hopeless. Everything died.
A week or more later, I began to dig the garden up, thinking to do something else with it. I hit something hard with my hand spade and up came something to cheer me up – an Indian arrowhead! As a kid growing up on a Manitoba farm, neighbors would find stone arrow, spear, tomahawk, and hammer heads. I would be on the watch and never find any. Then decades later, along comes Joanna killing my flower garden and I get an arrowhead. I almost thanked her for it.
Then I was told our community is on an ancient Blackfoot Indian burial ground, next to the Blood Reserve.