The Early Years
This year marks the “anniversary” of two events: I was born seventy years ago, and my divorce was final twenty-five years ago. These events have me contemplating my life and how many events shaped who I am today.
“For me, becoming isn’t about arriving somewhere or achieving a certain aim. I see it instead as forward motion, a means of evolving, a way to reach continuously toward a better self. The journey doesn’t end.” Michelle Obama.
Through all the changes and transitions in my life, I have recognized the blessing of a solid beginning. I was raised in Ontario by parents who loved and trusted God, each other and their children. They were active in their church and got along well with their neighbours. My life felt secure despite illnesses, accidents, and moves during my childhood.
An industrial accident shortened my father’s years as a farmer. But not before I had the opportunity to grow up in wide open spaces, roaming the woods to see wildflowers, hearing frogs croak in the pond, and learning the names of so many different birds and trees. My big sister loved sharing her knowledge with me. I knew where food came from and the importance of sunshine and rain for growing crops. I liked the solitude of wide open spaces among nature’s sights, sounds and smells.
Adjusting to city life at the age of nine was a challenge, but soon, we moved to the outskirts of town with new areas to explore. It was also during these years that I became a voracious reader. I decided that when I grew up, I would be a teacher and did some volunteer work at a local Christian school while I was in high school. But my sister started teaching before I went on to post-secondary education, and I changed my mind. I didn’t want a job with so much to do outside my work hours, and nursing seemed like a good choice.
Through these early years, I felt protected, safe, and secure. My parents’ love and protection gave me a secure place to grow up. I was taught that Jesus loves me and God has the whole world in His hands. The summer I was seventeen years old, I accepted Jesus into my heart, and His love for me became more than head knowledge.
Challenges Along the Way
The summer before I started nursing school I was on a SWIM (Summer Workshop in Ministries) with three other girls in an inner-city in Michigan. The things I experienced widened my worldview. In the early 1970s, most people I encountered at home were middle-class of European descent. In Michigan, we lived surrounded by lower-class Hispanic and black people. Children were often unsupervised, not crying when they fell, as no one paid attention. Interacting with the children was a highlight of our volunteer time.
Living in this neighbourhood was a different experience than where I lived in Canada. We always had to walk in twos and then only in daylight for our safety. In 1972, people still talked about the murders of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King. The war in Vietnam was still raging and we met a young man who had been drafted and had to report “to camp” the day after we saw him. It was a lot for me to absorb.
Our housing was with a young couple who lived in a poor neighbourhood. One evening, a man roamed our street with a gun, threatening people because he thought someone had “messed with” his wife while he was in jail. We were all told to lie on the floor and avoid the windows. Fortunately, the situation was resolved without incident. That evening, I needed my head knowledge that I could trust God to become heart knowledge. That was a growing process over several years.
In time, I realized that losing a constant sense of safety affected me more than I had appreciated. When I started nursing school in the fall, I had more challenges adjusting than I anticipated. Living in residence was the biggest hurdle. I craved “alone time” and could not find it when I was with my classmates “24 hours a day.” My parents found a place where I had room and board. Fortunately, even though I had little idea what nursing would be like, I liked learning how to care for patients for patients, both their physical and emotional needs.
I took the Registered Nurse program during the few years that a three-year program was condensed into two years, so school was intense. We started with a class of 56 students, and 32 students graduated. With my parents’ support, I completed the program. I think they knew, as I did, that if I got over the “school hurdle”, I would have a career I enjoyed.
When I had my first nursing job interview, I said that I wanted a job where I would get to know patients and their families. That remained true throughout the forty-four years that I worked. I supported people, taught them how to better care for themselves, and often spent time with them during their most difficult times. I met people from all walks of life and many nationalities. When I worked in Kingston Penitentiary, I learned that all the inmates I cared for had a story. Something had happened to trigger their slide into criminal activity. It all helped make me more accepting of people.
The rest of my life continued through all the years of nursing. The years of my marriage were challenging for me. There was the joy of motherhood when my two children were born, but also lots of busyness, a marriage separation, a move, building our own home, a lack of communication in our marriage, and feelings of little support from my spouse. By the end of seventeen years, I wasn’t coping with trying to make the marriage work, and the marriage ended in divorce. I wondered how I had let myself live in emotional chaos for so long. I needed a new path forward.
In the months following the end of my marriage, I had some counselling, I did a 12-step program for healing from emotional abuse, and I attended Divorce Care. The most significant healing came from recognizing that the joy of the Lord was my strength. I had never doubted that God was in control and that He walked with me each day. Putting that thought into the forefront of my mind made a big difference in my days. Annette, the nurse, had survived through those years, but Annette, the person, was finding herself again.
It wasn’t long before a challenging year happened. These things were happening around me and were beyond my control. First, both of my children moved to Calgary, Alberta. Soon after that, my father had a stroke, and my parents moved into long-term care. I decided to sell my home and move into an apartment. While living there, I focused on looking after myself. I paid more attention to my diet, walked, exercised, and improved my social life. I co-led a Grief Share group, a blessing to all who participated.
Going Where He Leads
Soon, however, I realized that I wanted a fresh beginning—a chance to create something new without the memories of the past. I joined my children in Calgary. It was good to renew relationships with my now-adult children. After working in a hospital for a while, I got a job in long-term care in a 77-bed dementia unit. I was reminded of the Maya Angelou quote, “People may not remember what you said, but they will remember how you made them feel.” It was good to become more aware of the impression I made on people. One gentleman wanted me to tuck him into bed. A woman wanted to be sure I would come to her birthday party. I doubt she knew when her birthday was, but I was honoured to be asked,
After two years of going out for dinner together, on road trips, and on shopping expeditions, my children moved away for educational pursuits. I wanted them to pursue their dreams, too. It was right and good.
Soon, I was looking to move again and did not want to return to Ontario. I went further west to BC, where I had family and friends. This move was for “me.” I wasn’t sure what I would discover about myself or the world, but returning to Ontario felt like going backwards.
Whenever I wanted or needed a new nursing position, I found one without difficulty. My nursing career had been the right choice. Soon I was working in a hospital. I began attending Recovery Church with a friend. I was introduced to people who were rebuilding their lives after addiction and others who were now leading productive lives with joy. I helped with Bus Ministry for a while, using my car to drive a few people to Recovery Church. We had the best conversations as we were cocooned in that space together and lots of laughter.
I also got involved with Alpha, a course that creates space for conversations about faith, life, and God. I became more comfortable talking to others about God and firmer in my faith. I was spreading my wings in ways I had never imagined. In some situations, there was a learning curve. I didn’t want to offend anyone; my friend helped me several times in those situations. I had friends of several cultures and life circumstances. This, too, felt right and good.
Then there were the years of Covid, and everything slowed down for a while. Once I got active again, I started volunteering at the Surrey Urban Mission (SUMS), serving breakfast once a week, which I still do. Some of our guests show me what some of my Recovery church friends used to live like. Because I’ve seen proof that there can be freedom after addiction, I can approach the guests with hope. I appreciate the interactions and the friendships that are forming. It’s good when someone no longer needs our services because they have moved on to a recovery center or found housing or their financial situation has improved.
When serving our guests at SUMS, I intentionally try to interact with them. I want them to know that someone sees them. Slowly, I am getting to know more of their names and life circumstances. I enjoy engaging with the staff, other volunteers, and the guests.
Looking back, I see God’s gentle hand leading me forward one step at a time. I had never anticipated being single again for so many years or moving so far west. Not all the roads were easy, and I didn’t always understand where and why I was going. Sometimes, I got frustrated when my life seemed stagnant and became impatient. Later, I realized that the timing wasn’t right for change sooner. My Father, God, knew best.
Working in a dementia unit felt like a detour at the time, but I think that working there made me more patient, tender, and compassionate. It also made me more aware of the profound effect of kindness. Through the years, I have moved from living with mostly people of European descent to a multicultural area where I live now. I have had opportunities to walk closely with prisoners and the homeless, with people who are ill and people who are addicted. All of them appreciated attention and kindness. May I continue to walk gently with others –and myself.
“It’s all a process, steps along a path. Becoming requires equal parts patience and rigor. Becoming is never giving up on the idea that there’s more growing to be done.” Michelle Obama.
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