I was ten-and-one-half when Clara and I, and our next sister, Helen, attended the Church of the Nazarene in Medicine Hat, Alberta. We lived a couple of miles away from that church, but our young legs could easily endure that long jaunt down to the flats and home again, on the hill. The May weather was lovely, and we enjoyed having somewhere to go. The visiting evangelists were ladies. One night Clara responded to the altar call, and dedicated her life to the Lord.I clearly remember the following night. Some children on the front row were misbehaving. The lady preaching reprimanded them saying, "And you children had better pay attention. You cannot rely on your parents' salvation to get you to heaven. You must be born again yourself, each of you." This, though not directed at me, struck home to my heart. That is what I was doing—thinking I had always been saved because my parents were Christians. Surely, if Clara had needed to go to the altar, I must need to go also. I did go, and there confessed my need of a Savior and accepted the Lord Jesus into my heart. Helen's young heart was stirred as well. Together we knelt at that old fashioned altar in May 1941. Clara's move of the previous night had encouraged us to follow her good example. Later she stated that she considered that she had been born again somewhat earlier. Nonetheless, her move forward made the step easier for her two younger sisters. Clara had had to discontinue her schooling in the middle of her grade nine year in order to go to work to supplement the family income. About a year-and-a-half later, however, our father was willing to put her into school again. It was decided that instead of resuming high school, she would take the preparatory course at Prairie Bible Institute. I would also go to Prairie to attend grade ten. Once again we two girls began a new school together. During each year of Clara's five years at Prairie we roomed together. Helen joined us in the latter years to make a threesome. Clara had applied to the Worldwide Evangelization Crusade Mission board as a candidate for West Africa. While in Eastern Canada, taking studies in French, she was introduced to the work of the New Tribes Mission, and later joined the mission enlisting for work in the new field they were opening in Senegal. At this juncture, however, she became concerned about our brother, Alfred, the fourth member of the family. He had just finished high school at Prairie Bible Institute. As yet he had not found his calling in life. She recommended to him that he attend the New Tribes Mission boot camp. This was a missionary training programme located at Enderby, B.C. This he did, finding there for himself direction and interest. In time he became very enthused too. Knowing I was longing to go to India, Alfred encouraged me to join him at Enderby after my graduation from Bible School. In this Clara had again been the one to lead into new paths, but Alfred had also formed a link in this chain of directive events. I entered the boot camp training in the spring of 1954. In October Alfred and I drove down to Fouts Springs, California, to continue our course. We returned to Alberta in March of the following year. Although Clara, with her husband, Stanley, and one-year-old son, Jonathan, had left the homeland in April 1955, they had spent some months in France studying the language, prior to entering what was then French West Africa. In mid-October, when I set out by ship for India, it coincided with the time that Clara and Stanley arrived in Senegal. Once again the two of us were entering a new phase of our lives simultaneously. Throughout those years on the respective mission fields correspondence may have been somewhat infrequent, but it kept the two of us bonded together in a fellowship that bridged the oceans and continents between us. Often our letters would reveal parallel experiences happening about the same time. One time while I was living in a remote hamlet in the forested hills of South India, the entire village of Sitteri burned to the ground. As the hot March winds quickly swept the flames across the grass-thatched roofs, the dwellings were reduced to smoldering ruins in a few moments. A short while later a letter came from my sister a quarter of the way around the globe. In that same month, March (1959?), a frightening episode took place on their compound. One night Stanley and a native helper had been filling the gas tank of his vehicle in preparation for an early morning start on a journey the following day. The lantern flame ignited the fumes, and the whole building became a roaring inferno. Ever thereafter Stanley carried on his legs the scars of the burns he received that night. By repeatedly suffering similar testings, Clara and I came to share a deep understanding of each other's trials and triumphs. The bond that kept us in unison was stronger than any linking me to other members of my family. Before five years were quite completed for either myself or the MacGowans, furlough plans were under consideration. Because of ill health, I had been advised to shorten my term. I weighed the possibility of visiting Senegal on my route home. From there we could proceed homeward together. Limited finances would not permit this pleasure, however. Furthermore, poor health made it inadvisable. . . . . . .
Go to: Chapter 6
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