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Saturday, May 15, 2010

English War Bride

My maternal grandfather was in the Canadian Calvary during the First World War. Periodically I study his antique cloth photograph on our family room wall. He is so young and gallant in his uniform and holding a riding crop in his hand as he leans on the photographer’s fake studio wall of stone. The only indication that he is serving in the Canadian Forces is the telltale maple leaf insignia on his hat. Near the end of the war to end all wars he was stationed in England. He married my grandmother in 1918 and brought her to Canada with a babe in arms. My grandmother was a World War I English war bride. Their first born child was my Aunt Joan who passed away in the fall of 2007.

I have often thought of my grandmother, who lived to be 93 years old, arriving in the port of Halifax after a long and difficult voyage across the North Atlantic. I imagine her getting on a foreign train with a babe in arms for what must have seemed an endless journey into this huge wild country in the middle of winter or worse during the blackfly season. She had grown up in a small village not far from London and disembarked from that Canadian Pacific Railway train, after days of difficult travel, in Chapleau, Ontario, a rough railway community on an isolated rail line with no connecting roads at the time. My grandfather was to soon commence his career that was to be interrupted by the Great Depression as a brakeman for the C.P. R.

Can you even imagine the cultural shock suffered by that young woman? My grandparents raised eight children who lived until adulthood. My mother was born within a year of my grandparents arriving in Chapleau and passed away in 2005. Since my Grandmother lived into my adulthood, I have some vivid memories of her. The most vivid memories; however, come from my early childhood. She would come to visit our home for a couple of weeks. She travelled on the train, of course, from Fort William every couple of years. She never lost her clear British accent or her sharp wit. She loved to engage me in puzzle work that was somewhat beyond my age. She enjoyed playing board and card games, but gave absolutely no quarter to the young. She always played to win. It was she who taught me, through inevitable tears, more than anyone else, that despite your ability and effort, sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Indeed, I learned to be a good sport at an early age.

I remember like it was yesterday standing beside my grandmother on the shores of Lake Nipissing at the height of Hurricane Hazel in 1954. She was probably a little younger than I am now. Toronto had been seriously damaged by Hurricane Hazel. Where we stood, the damage from this now downgraded storm was sustained mostly along the shoreline. The waves rolled in higher than I have ever seen them, even to this day, on a freshwater lake. The wind was a continual roar in my ears. We had to yell at each other to converse. Boats and docks were torn apart. Lawns behind high and strong breakwaters were dragged out into the lake. The rain fell in torrents and the lightening and thunder never stopped. I had to lean my six year old light frame into the wind to maintain my footing. My grandmother had insisted we venture out to observe the storm first hand because, as she put it, the storm reminded her of the seashore near her home when she was a girl. I remember so well how much she thoroughly enjoyed that drenching and probably dangerous walk that October day. On that day so long ago I felt the absolute power and majesty of God. This incomprehensible power I felt even as a child is well described in Job 37: 1-5.

1 ¶ "At this also my heart trembles, And leaps from its place.

2 Hear attentively the thunder of His voice, And the rumbling that comes from His mouth.

3 He sends it forth under the whole heaven, His lightning to the ends of the earth.

4 After it a voice roars; He thunders with His majestic voice, And He does not restrain them when His voice is heard.

5 God thunders marvelously with His voice; He does great things which we cannot comprehend.

The most telling section in today’s selection of verses is found in the profound words, “He does great things which we cannot comprehend.” It is not only when we stand in a fierce storm that we should remember these words. We can be so much better off acknowledging these very wise words and submitting ourselves to His power, majesty and thankfully His grace.

(Comments, corrections, suggestions or rebuttals are welcome. My email link is contained in “About me: view my complete profile” to the right of this page or use the comment section below which requires that you have a Google account.)

2 comments:

  1. What a wonderful story about your grandmother. I'd love to add her to the list of WWI war brides that I am compiling. Do you know what ship she arrived in Canada on?

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  2. Unfortunately, I have no idea of the exact date nor the name of the ship. By the time in life you become interested enough about historical information, there is no one left to ask. Thank you for reading my blog.

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