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Peace in the Battle

On Thursday, I set out to a tiny rural town in Saskatchewan to work on recording a song God had given me in June of 2020. It came at a time when all that I and my family had known for the past twenty three years was coming to an end. My husband was retiring from farming and I needed to say goodbye to my classroom. The mountain of decisions seemed steep. The sea of unknowns deep. The list of what-ifs endless. The fear clambered up in our throats but we could see no other possibility ahead but to take God’s leading at His word and hold fast to His hand.

On the morning of June 17, 2020, I woke up with this phrase from my dream.

There is peace in the battle

When the battle is the Lord’s

There is peace in the battle

When the battle is the Lord’s

You need only to be still

You need only to be still

There is peace ‘cause the Lord will fight for you.

The dream was all about job changes and classroom changes. Due to our daughter’s situation, I needed to step into homeschooling for her but financially I still needed to work at my teaching job. I continued praying about it and in mid-July, the idea of a job share came to mind. I phoned my boss and she understood the circumstances behind my request and started advertising. In the teaching world, most job notices go out in April and May. I trusted the judgment of my superintendent on the choice of who should be hired although they allowed me the opportunity to sit in on the interview. I taught in a unique religious community that did not utilize technology and was like a one-room school house. My job is not everyone’s idea of a good time. God gifted me with a job share partner of my dreams. It felt so easy I was stunned. I did not know how much I needed to share the weight of teaching in a one-room school.

At the time, I didn’t know I’d be driving my husband to emergency rooms the latter part of September as he was hit with gall bladder attacks. I needed someone to step in at a moment’s notice and not every substitute teacher felt comfortable driving much less teaching out at the Hutterite colony where I worked. Medical emergencies are stressful enough on their own but harvest stress adds a fourth dimension. Yet, we were done combining. All of the machinery was cleaned up. Lots of the grain had already moved to market and all my husband had to do was get properly diagnosed and treated. There was no additional worries added to my husband’s plate because of how God’s timing worked. Was it very fun? Nope. But God carried us and provided a fantastic doctor who finally treated the underlying infection in his inflamed gallbladder until a surgery date could be booked. God also provided someone who could take pictures of tools and machinery to sell online so my husband could focus on other details. He had commented that his final farming year was the least stressful he’d ever had while we wrote up the annual Christmas letter in 2020


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