OF LOVE AND A FAKE LEATHER GUITAR STRAP
OF LOVE AND A FAKE LEATHER GUITAR STRAP We did not have a dime to spare and sometimes not even a dime. My husband and I with our two children, now twelve and ten, were living on a small native reserve in Manitoba in a house in a lumber yard, the only housing available. Our term of service with a Christian organization establishing a market garden on the reserve was over. Yet we were still on the reserve with no source of income. Even when our basic needs had been provided for by the organization, we had not been living too high off the hog. “Happy Birthday, to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, dear Mom, Happy Birthday to you!” A cake, decorated in my favourite colour pink, ice cream, Rien and the kids crowding around me as I opened my gift, what could be dearer? “What do you want for your birthday?” they had asked me. Rien and I were still deeply involved with the little Gospel church on the