EXODUS - ON THE WAY TO THE PROMISED LAND

August 10,2010, SeattleWA Cloudy but no rain 69degrees.

Like Abraham and Moses, we have been called to uproot our lives and go to a new place, we just don't know how to get there. We have seen the promised land of cancer remission and possible cure, but now we are at a cross roads concerning what kind of chemo would be best and the timing of the stem cell transplant. I won't bore you with all the technical details, but it is very complex and we have 3-4 Doctors who may not agree on what to do. Modern Medicine is very advanced, but it is still an inexact science. You can have the most sincere opinions in the world, but they might be sincerely wrong. I reminded a young Attending Physician today in a conference to which he was an hour late, that ultimately the decision is up to Kriss and me. That was somewhat of a shock to him, living in the mist of infallability, he had to swallow both his pride and his shock and admit that it is true. We are ultimately responsible for our own health care decisions and we can't blame the wrong choices on anyone else. I think that was a novel concept for him to come face to face with and he will be a better Doctor because of it. We have until next Tuesday to make these life and death decisions. We would covet your prayers for choosing the best path. We will seek God's leading and ultimately, God's sovereign will be accomplished. I just wish there was a verse in the Bible telling us whether RCHP or another chemo cocktail was the best choice to begin taking next Wednesday. That decision will affect not only our lives, but our biological and church family as well. I wonder if Abraham and Moses stayed awake at night wondering where the next day's journey would lead them? I imagine they did. We will pray for God's guidance through the wilderness of modern medicine. Keep us in your prayers, as I know you already do. I did have a chance to personally meet Biff and Leslie Broughterton today. Keep them in your prayers, as well, as he continues to receive treatment

NORTH DAKOTA TO WASHINGTON STATE. AUGUST 1962

My mother did her best to instill a sense of enthusiasm about leaving North Dakota and moving to Wapato, WA. I had moved so many times already, 3 in 4 years, that I wasn't herdbound to any particular group of friends like some of my brothers. Mom's brother, Bob, would occasionally send us a box of Washington grown red delicious apples for Christmas. They were the most beautiful and delicious fruit any of us had ever seen and Mom used that as a pretty powerfull emotional lever to tip the balance of our opinions. I was up for heading west and we were going, whether us kids liked it or not. So I thought I would make the best of it. My friends in Watford City had a going away party for me. They all chipped in and bought me a 50 cent book, which I can't remember anything about. We went to the local movie theater after the party and they paid my way. I think I had to buy my own popcorn. I do remember that the movie was one of the Ma and Pa Kettles classics. Prophetic, actually, considering that was what our Exodus to the Great Northwest would resemble.

Mom, sisters Ophie and Kathy and I boarded the express train in Glendive, Montana so we could get to our destination without stopping at every place that imagined it was a town. We had enough baggage to last until the caravan arrived with Pop, Tommy and brother Noel. Mom wouldn't leave her beloved cat SIR THOMAS behind to fend for himself and so we had him crated up in the baggage car and she fed and watered him daily. Our home packed food ran out the middle of the 2nd day, thank goodness, and so we had to buy food on the train. Mom never stopped complaining about the exorbinant prices, but we were just glad to have something different, even if it was meager. Sitting in the special viewing train car was the highlight of every day. You had to be vigilant, however, and get there early so you could get a seat. Lots of people wanted those seats and it often was full. We got tired of just walking up and down the aisles, and I would bet the other passengers were tired of seeing us so often too. As we were climbing the Rocky Mountains towards Butte, MT, I was so scared, I thought we were all done for. The rocks pile up upon one another like pick up sticks. Some of them were as big as a train car and I swore they swayed in the wind. I didn't dare look over the side of the train barely moving along side a cliff to eternity. It seemed like it took forever to get over that pass and when we got to Butte, I was an emotional wreck. Mom had driven over it several times in the past and she kept saying that she couldn't believe what a scardy-cat I was. Heavens, I had never seen anything higher than Sentinel Butte in Golden Valley County, North Dakota. What did she expect from me? The rest of the trip was uneventful. We arrived in Yakima, WA around the third week of August and someone from the Wapato School District picked us up and took us to Wapato, right in the middle of the Yakama Indian Reservation. We stayed in the cheapest hotel in town, on the second floor just next to the neon sign that kept us awake all night. Pets weren't allowed, so we had to successfully sneak Sir Thomas, the cat in and out of the hotel daily for his personal hygene needs. Mom started orientation for her new job right away and us kids wandered around downtown Wapato or to a city park diagonal from the hotel. I realized right away that we weren't in Kansas anymore, which included North Dakota. The majority of the people on the street were noncaucasian. Native American, Hispanic, Japanese, Filipino and every color in between. It wasn't a frightening place, just so different and intriguing, like moving to a foreign country. Which in fact it is. When you leave Union Gap you enter the Yakama Indian Nation and I would learn how to adapt to a new culture and country which would pay dividends for me later in life.

The real Exodus was following behind us. Brothers Noel, Tom and the old man began their trek with a 2 ton stock truck, including racks, towing a 40 foot trailer house, followed by a 1951 4 door Buick, which Pa said had the most get up and go of any car he had ever driven. They started on Grandpa's farm near Beach, ND. Everything you thought you might possibly use in your lifetime and the lifetime of generations to come, got tossed into that stock truck. My mother made Pa promise that he would include the petrified wood she used to border her flower beds. You never knew if there was any petrified wood west of the Rockies. Pa also included every tool, welding machine, bucket and cans full of nails and nuts and bolts he had time for. I have on my deck to this day, a milking machine stainless steel can that we brought from North Dakota in 1962. We never actually had a milking  machine, Pa picked it up somewhere for little or nothing with the idea that we just might, possibly, have a milking machine some day and then who would be Mr Smarty Pants? It was alot like the washing machine we had in the corner of the kitchen that required running water to actually operate. You just never knew when the miracle of running water might descend upon the farm house. The only place my Norwegian Grandfather thought it was worth having running water was in the big barn outside. Livestock needed clean, fresh water year round and besides, he kept his live fishing minnows contentedly living the Life of Reilly 12 months a year in that tank in the barn. Certainly snot-nosed brats like us could live without clean running water. Wat wass gut enuff fer his yungen was gut enuff fer us lertelars, muslerten. I will leave the last two norwegian words untranslated. We all knew where we ranked in importance to the livestock and what didn't kill us, was probably good for us.

Leaving Watford City with trailerhouse in tow, the Exodus was in full swing. Not far into Montana, lugnuts began to fall off and Pa left Noel and Tom in charge of the truck and trailer and he went back for spare parts. Driving along side a railroad track a day or so later, the spare tire tied to the side of the stocktruck came off and carreened down the side of the slope just about hitting the front of the train. The engineer blew his wistle like crazy and Pa tried to force Tom or Noel to risk life and limb and climb down and retrieve the tire. They refused and after a few choice words, the caravan began the ascent of the Great Rocky Mts. At least once an hour, they had to stop and put fresh water in the stocktruck's radiator. Finally they got to the summit and coasted downhill as far as they could to save on gasoline. By this time the rest of us had moved into two very small cabins the Wapato School District provided for teachers. Normally, a single person, or a young couple lived in one house, because they were the only thing they could afford. Ma negotiated a deal where we would all live in two adjoining cabins. One was for cooking, eating and living space and the other was dedicated to sleeping quarters. Shucks, I had lived in a "dormtype" room with my brothers all my life, so I thought nothing of it. We at least had running water and an indoor bathroom. What more could you want? It was also right next to the Wapato Elementary and High School and we could walk to school. It all looked great until the caravan pulled up in front of the two houses; stocktruck, trailerhouse and smoking Buick. I'm sure Superintendent Syrdahl, who had hired Ma to be the High School Librarian, had a lot of explaining to do to the rest of the School Board for bringing to town a 1960s version of the Grapes of Wrath..