COLUMN: Tales from the Gravel Ridge – Taking care to number our days

“Send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee”. John Donne, 1624

Within a period of six weeks, beginning on Christmas Day, 2024, and continuing on into the New Year, the earthly life of four individuals ended. I had known all of these individuals when I was a child in Rosengard, and indeed their lives intersected with those of our family, when all of us lived in close proximity to each other along the Rosengard gravel ridge.

Neal Warkentin, who was born in 1941 and grew up in Rosengard, died on Dec. 25, 2024. The Warkentin family farmed immediately to the east of our farm. Neal was predeceased by two younger brothers, Jake and Peter. I recall going to the Warkentin home together with my siblings on the occasion of the funeral of Neil’s infant brother Peter. Memories of that sacred moment that Mrs. Warkentin shared with us, the neighbourhood children, before the funeral is indelibly imprinted on my mind.

As is the case for many of us, so Neal too spoke often about growing up in the wonderful community of Rosengard. In her own way, Annie Nikkel contributed to our community by inviting neighbourhood children to come to a Sunday School class in her parental home on Sunday afternoons. I vividly recall to this day that, when encouraged to recite a verse from the Bible, Neal’s favourite verse, speaking in German, was from the Book of James, “Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.”

The Frank Nikkel family lived in Rosengard throughout the time that my family also lived in that community. I presume that all of the Nikkel children attended the Rosengard School. I know that Peter Nikkel did, as well as his younger brother John. Our family has numerous memories of the Nikkel family; their farm was situated directly across the road from the Rosengard School.

Peter Nikkel died in Abbotsford, BC on Jan 18, 2025, just two days short of his 93rd birthday. Peter and his wife Edith and their family had lived in Abbotsford for many years, and my sister Anne and her husband, Bill Thiessen had been their long-standing friends. On an occasion when my husband Bernie and I were visiting Anne and Bill, we had a delightful opportunity to meet with Peter and Edith. Even though I had been separated from the Nikkel family for a very long time, the bonds of a community from many decades ago remained firm and strong.

My sister Anne attended Peter’s graveside service in Abbotsford, and in a symbolic sense represented our family and indeed our community of long ago.

John Brian Wiens, our neighbour right across the gravel ridge road from our Rosengard farm, remained on their family farm until he died on Jan. 21, 2025, at the age of 83 years. I well remember the day John’s mother, Mrs. Susan Wiens walked across the road to our house, together with her three young children, to share with us that her husband, the father of her children, had died. Such poignant memories of community ties have a way of enduring.

Susan Funk Wiens died unexpectedly on Feb. 4, 2025, two short weeks after her brother John’s passing. Susie, as we called her when we were students at the Rosengard School, was very much a part of our community. I recall distinctly, the day of Susan’s 8th birthday. It wasn’t that we were spending time with the birthday child that day. Indeed, the day was memorable for us in another way as well. We were waiting, with bated breath, for the arrival of the Neufeld Movers truck that would bring a “new” house to replace our very old, small house. While we were waiting for this arrival, coming from the east along the gravel ridge, a young girl named Lydia Wiebe came riding her bicycle down the gravel ridge from the west, and heading for the Wiens’ home. Lydia was a cousin to the Wiens kids. It must have been a particularly balmy May 4th day as Lydia was wearing shorts, pink ones at that, and therefore especially noticeable. Rosengard girls weren’t known to wear short pants in public in that era.

The words of Psalm 90, being a prayer of Moses, in particular the 12th verse, has been much on my mind of late. Although the opening line, reminding us that God has been our dwelling place throughout all generations, is exceptionally meaningful for me personally, the 12th verse is a reminder to “number our days”. In the words of the late Frederick Buechner, “It is a mark of wisdom to realize how precious our days are, even the most uneventful of them.” Indeed they are.

And so it is that we have been reminded by the convergence of the deaths of Rosengarders who lived in such close proximity to each other, and to our family, to take our days seriously. Our memories of those whose lives intersected ours, are powerful and deep and precious.