The winter of 1922 passed quickly with a thousand cares and worries. The trains were reserved: the first one was set to leave from Plum Coulee on March 1, and the second from Haskett on the second. Ohm Franz Loewen and I were set to travel on these trains. Loading went very quickly, as there were many willing hands and hearts. All at once the day of departure stood at the door and knocked. Before the cars were loaded we all gathered in the school house in Blumenfeld for a devotion, and to encourage ourselves one final time with God’s word, and to ask our dear heavenly father for his grace and protection on our fateful and daunting journey. Some tears were also shed, and I must confess that it was not easy for me to leave my dear fatherland and birthplace, the place where my cradle once stood. For the thirty-three years I had lived there, God had only done good to me – even me, his poor and weak and sinful servant. The service was concluded with the words of the well-known poet:¹

Our childhood home,
Our school, our church,
Where we gathered together in prayer,
So many times, but no longer.
The time, it changes back and forth,
This life it is a walking stick.
Jesus, lead our steps,
In this world, at this time,
Until we stand in the holy, blessed middle
With you one day in eternity!
Only then will the time of wandering be over,
Once we have entered the Father’s house.

As much as we might have hoped at that moment, time did not stand still. It was the second of March, and a beautiful morning, as we departed. The train was ready to pull out; we had loaded it all the previous day. Many friends and acquaintances had gathered around the train to wish us farewell. With much sadness, sorrow, and tears, we bid goodbye to our dear friends, parents, and siblings, not knowing if we would ever see them in this life again. Around eight o’clock the engineer gave the signal that the train was ready to go. Quietly and carefully the big train slowly rocked into motion. Calmly, without much talking, we gradually pulled away from the place of our birth, Manitoba, Canada, from the town Haskett. How we turned our hearts and prayers heavenward at that time! O Lord, look upon us and our entire people with your grace, through the will of your son Christ. Lead us happily through this cruel and angry world. Protect us from all harm on this journey.

Do command your angel guard,
To stay with us day and night.

Forgive us all our sins, which we have committed since childhood. For we are so poor and weak and unworthy of your grace. But you are our Saviour, our help in times of trouble, and you have shown us time and again that when our need is greatest, your help is nearby.

You know all of the sins,
That we have all committed,
Whom else could we find,
Than you who can help us.

Lord, keep us, and cover us with the wings of your omnipotence, so that no plague, distress, or sickness may come near to us. Let your gracious promise be fulfilled, as it is written: “For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone” (Psalm 91:11–12). I stood at the window and looked back, and I saw our beautiful earthly home, our house, yard, and field, which we had to leave without selling. And as I could no longer see Blumenfeld, Rosengart came into view. And soon all the towns, and with them the dear fatherland, had vanished from before my eyes, but not from my heart. And again, I thought of the words of the poet, who says:

Should I be driven from one place,
From one place to another,
The way toward heaven will remain
For me open and free,
For no tyrant can prevent
Where your word leads me.
As long as this pass stays open for me,
Then I have travelled well.

As soon as the paperwork was all in order, and everything was set and we were allowed into the United States, the train began to double its speed, and only seemed to get faster and faster. The first night we barely slept at all, for our hearts were too heavy with the memory of our recent farewell. We raced into the black night accompanied by the horrific noise of the two huge locomotives. We were so afraid and anxious because of the high speed, the women especially, that we decided to talk to the engineer to see if he could slow the trains down, because we didn’t want to end up in a serious accident with all of our cattle. His casual response was that the train was not our responsibility and we ought to leave it to them, as they were in a race against the other railroad companies to see who could make it to Mexico the quickest. And so we realized that we had no other option but to put our trust in God, and to rely on his grace and protection, and to pray along with David: “Give us aid against the enemy, for the help of man is worthless” (Psalm 60:11).

How thankful we were to God and the engineer when we arrived, barely four days later, at the border town of El Paso. At this point we had to transfer trains, a fact of which we were not previously aware. How our delegates tried to caution us before we crossed the border into Mexico! And at once a feeling of fear swept over us, but once we entered Mexico, it was as if we were the children of Israel. At first when they saw the Canaanites, they were afraid and said: “The land we had explored devours those living in it. All the people we saw there are of great size” (Numbers 13:32). And for anyone who did not have enough faith, and who had not been strengthened in his faith through trials, experiences, and patience, the question undoubtedly arose: “Why is the Lord bringing us to this land only to let us fall by the sword? Our wives and children will be taken as plunder” (Numbers 14:3).

Our first encounter with the Mexicans was with the Mexican engineer. Our new train went much slower than the previous one. Our second encounter with the Mexicans was when they surrounded our train because they had never before seen Mennonites. This made us uncomfortable, for we had never seen such dark people, who crowded around our train by the hundreds to get a look at us. These were to be our neighbours? We were supposed to live and feel at home among these people? How strange and unfamiliar everything was. Before we left the border town of Juárez, about twenty heavily armed men boarded our train and wanted to accompany us, as was the custom, to protect us from hijackers. But this caused such fear and timidity among our women and children, and though I wanted to trust the men, I too could not help but be afraid. But the soldiers were very friendly and benevolent, and so we quickly grew accustomed to our new companions. Even so, everything felt strange and unfamiliar. In the previous four days, as we made our way through the United States, we had watched how beautifully spring was moving through the land, how the rain and melting snow had soaked the earth, and how the winter wheat stood there in splendid green and how the fruit trees were in full bloom. Things were quite different in Mexico. Already we had to remind ourselves that it was God who set all of the boundaries of the earth right from creation and that each land possesses its own character (Psalm 74:17).

As soon as we crossed onto Mexican soil, everything appeared to be dead. The grass was totally dry; the cattle were skinny and wandered around miserably, and gnawed hungrily on the brush that grew in the land. The whole first day we drove from one unproductive region to another. How disappointed some of our people were. It was as if a deep silence hung over and oppressed the group. The one asked the other if he thought it was like this throughout all of Mexico. Others asserted that surely it would be different when we reached our destination. Overall the mood was sad. After we had driven for one day and one night since crossing the border, we finally arrived at Chihuahua, the capital city of our state. But instead of our fears being relieved, they only increased upon arriving, and our hearts filled with more anxiety and sadness. They began separating our train in two, and when we asked why this was being done, we were told that it was because the rest of the trip was too treacherous for the train to make in its present state. We would have to drive over high mountains and through deep valleys, and across high bridges, and there was no way that the long train could make it. So the passenger cars were separated from the cattle and the freight, and the latter train was hooked up to two locomotives. This aroused no small amount of worry and served as a motivating force for us to entreat the Lord to let us arrive safely at our destination. We pulled out of Chihuahua about an hour before sunset, and it wasn’t long before we realized that the drivers hadn’t lied to us – for less than two hours into our journey we encountered steel bridges, and high mountains, and drove so close to the side of the mountain that it seemed as though it would fall on us at any second.

The first time we drove through a dark tunnel through the mountain, we were overcome by the fear that the mountain was going to collapse on top of us. And then it was back up the mountain; one of the hills was so steep that even after the engine had exerted all of its steam power, it still could not make it all the way up, so we were stuck near the top for a while. Many of the women came to where Ohm Franz Loewen and I were sitting and confessed that they had not prayed enough in preparation for this important journey, and it was because of them that we were having all these difficulties.

But this is what I thought: “How can one sell oil to another when one’s own lamp is almost dry and about to go out?” Often, when it seemed that the train was about to start sliding down the hill backwards, I couldn’t help but think that as difficult as the journey to our new home had been, it was nothing compared to the challenges we would face once we got there. And I even thought about the journey to blessed eternity, which is all the more difficult, just as the poet says:

Before in need and distress
One had to huddle a little here.
Until the time of suffering is over
And the cross mountain has been crossed over.
Thereupon our Saviour’s hand,
Leads us into his heavenly fatherland,
Into eternal rejoicing.
But also! Christ himself helps us,
And stands by in impossible things.
And step by step he builds,
And enters into heaven.
No mountain is too high,
No valley laid too low,
That man cannot overcome
When God’s our strength and carries us.

We eventually made it through the mountains, and when I looked back I was relieved to see that the second train, the one carrying our cattle and freight, had made it safely through as well. At sunrise the next morning, at about six o’clock, we arrived at our new home, the city of San Antonio [present-day Cuauhtémoc], thankful and praising the Lord. And although we were happy that our fateful trip was over, many of us did not feel the joy and high spirits that had been fostered in Canada, and a general sense of disappointment pervaded the air. The first disappointment was with the city itself; it wasn’t exactly splendid looking. There were a number of dilapidated brick houses, a train station, and also a falling-down boarding house. There were a few very small stores and a humble hut that was supposed to be the post office. If we wrote letters and wished to send them back to Canada, we had to bring them to this hut. An old Mexican woman ran the place, and when we would come in, she’d throw our letters in a wooden crate. The only way we knew she ever made any order out of the mess was the fact that our letters found their way to Canada and we received the replies in a relatively timely manner. At that time that was the whole city.

The second major disappointment was with the quality of the earth. There were as many stones in the city as there were in the fields and the ground was very hard and all vegetation appeared to be totally dead. But standing around and wallowing in our disappointment wasn’t helping anything:

Let us not too much survey,
The child’s play along the way.
Through hesitation and delay,
One becomes enslaved and slow.
It does not concern us,
Keep on through thick and thin.
Turn in your light minds,
It is almost done.

As we prepared to exit the train, the railroad officials sternly informed us that we had two days to empty the wagon cars because after that the train was being sent back to the US. And unlike in Canada where we had had so many extra helping hands loading our belongings, this time it was each one for himself. And I in particular was on my own because my children were too small to help. We were surrounded by Mexicans who were practically throwing themselves at us in their offers of assistance, but we didn’t know what to do with them. We couldn’t talk to them, and anyways, at that time we still thought there was something suspicious and off-putting about them and we would just as soon have had them far away as up close.

At one point two large men approached me, climbed into my car, and grabbed a few things to indicate that they were willing to help me unload. I stood there speechless, not only because I didn’t speak their language, but because I didn’t know what to say. Finally, they each raised a finger in the air and with the other hand made a motion which implied sun-up to sun-down. This was to say that they would work from morning until night for one peso a day. I had barely finished nodding and they were already at work. It seemed to me that God, in his great providence, had sent me these two strong souls to help me in my time of need. The two days weren’t even up and these men had already unloaded everything. The next morning I gave them their well-deserved wages and they went thankfully on their way.

The next morning, however, one of the men was back at my side offering to help again. When our wagons were loaded and the cattle tied up, we set off on our way. The first goal of our trip was the Rosengart village plan, some eighteen miles away. We had not gone far, though, when evening surprised us and night followed quickly behind. The cattle were not used to walking and were tired, and the children began to cry and complain, which led many of the fathers to suggest that we stop and sleep in the open field under the wagons. But then we thought of the mothers with babies and small children and decided that it would be too cold for them out in the open. And at that point we were unfamiliar with the campfire, the technique used by the natives. So we decided to keep going, but slowly, and thus we arrived at the place designated Rosengart at around 11 p.m. We quickly set up the tents and about an hour later – 12 a.m. – the little village was finished. We went to bed that night completely exhausted and praying for God’s protection, and thinking of the verses which say: “I will grant peace in the land and you will lie down and no one will make you afraid” (Leviticus 26:6) and “I will lie down and sleep in peace for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety” (Psalm 4:8). When we awoke the next morning, everything felt strange and unfamiliar. The first thing we noticed was the huge change in temperature from sleeping in the warmly heated train cars to tents on the open prairie, which offered little protection from the frost and heat. That was definitely something for which we were not prepared. The children who relied on their mothers’ warmth and care were to be pitied the most.

With melancholy, pain, and sadness,
I think about the little ones,
Who, in the freezing wintertime,
So often had to cry.
In cold and frost and adversity,
In storm and weather without shelter,
One often hears them wailing.
So according to God’s counsel,
We have had to endure many cheerless times,
Both early in the early days and recently.
Both under the tent and wagon,
And seeking homes on the ground.
Many cares have burdened our hearts,
So that we had to groan.
Forgive us Lord, the misdeed
And give us what we desire.
Give us, O Father, further counsel,
That we might nourish ourselves honestly.
Accord us henceforth good times,
Happiness, nourishment, peace, and unity,
Health, salvation, and blessing.
For this reason many parents’ hearts
Have tread before God’s throne
With groaning, supplication, and prayer.
And yet he has called into his kingdom
Many out of the world
Through sickness into his heavenly tent.

Those in the group who had brought small cast iron stoves along were very happy. Thankfully we were among those who had, and it didn’t take long before the ovens were on and began heating the tents. Not everyone had one, so we had a number of guests for breakfast that morning. There was enough space for everyone, because we were all just sitting on the floor. I have to say that for a long time now breakfast hasn’t tasted as good as it did that morning.

We all loved each other so much during that time! When I think back to that period, I wish it could have stayed like that forever. And even though we realized right from the start that our days would be filled with hardship – frost and heat, toil and trouble – it still often went quite well. We can almost echo the words of the poet, when he says:

The mother above holds us together,
And sends to us below the heavenly flame.
No differences among us are to be found,
For humility our hearts together has bound.
Where individuality, quarrels, and hate do govern,
The sparks of love cannot be known,
Neither can one be led to the choir of the heavenly throne.

Unfortunately things didn’t stay that way for long, for the enemy did not sow his weeds among us in moderation. The first seeds he sowed were those of dissension, envy, selfishness, and self-love, so that some began to look with hatred and jealousy to others’ land, and claimed that they had been given poorer land than the others. Overall, the region where we settled seemed totally foreign to us. The mountains were very close and very high, so that our colony was in a valley and we were surrounded on all sides. One day, as I was on my way, I met up with the dear Ohm and fellow servant Julius Wiebe, who remarked the following to me: “About this place it may surely be said: ‘As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people both now and forevermore. The scepter of the wicked will not remain over the land allotted to the righteous, for then the righteous might use their hands to do evil. Do good, O Lord, to those who are good, to those who are upright in heart. But to those who turn to crooked ways the Lord will banish with the evildoers. Peace be upon Israel’” (Psalm 125:2–5).

It would have been beautiful if it had actually been true of our congregation. But the roaring lion, about which the apostle Peter warns us, was already on the loose: “Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings” (1 Peter 5:8–9). I tell you the truth, he found his way here, and determined from the outset to destroy the goodwill and good intentions with which many of us had left Canada. We quickly became aware of the fact that our salvation was not solely dependent upon us leaving Canada. For these mountains offered little protection against the fleshly lusts that warred against our souls (1 Peter 2:11). Many again turned to the world and stretched out their hands to injustice, and yearned for the arrogant life with both the lust of the eyes and the lust of the flesh. We were like the children of Israel living as slaves in Egypt, making bricks for Pharaoh. Bearing in mind the God of their fathers, they complained about their work and cried out to the all-powerful God. And “God heard their groaning and he remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob” (Exodus 2:23–24). But after God saved them and brought them into a good land, they forgot the Lord and lusted after wealth and became stiff-necked, then it was said of them that if they eat and become full and fat they will turn to other gods, and will serve them, and will blaspheme my name, and will ignore our covenant. And if they encounter misfortune and fear, then they should see this as a witness of their unfaithfulness (Deuteronomy 32). And this song should be remembered throughout the generations, “For I know how rebellious and stiff-necked you are. If you have been rebellious against the Lord while I am still alive and with you, how much more will you rebel after I die!” (Deuteronomy 31:27).

My dear children, never think that it is not necessary to read what was written by the prophets and in the Psalms, “for everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope” (Romans 15:4). In fact, much of what is written in the Scriptures is especially pertinent to a migration that was initiated on account of faith.

I have already mentioned how strange many things seemed to us in our new home of Mexico. The weather, in particular, with its unpredictable precipitation, was very foreign to us. For we thought – and we were told – that because Mexico was so far south, the weather would be warm and the climate would be comfortable. We learned, however, in our first days here, that this was hardly the case. Even in March the days got as warm as 18 degrees Celsius, which made the tents very humid and uncomfortable. And though the days were so warm, the nights could go down as far as minus 8 Celsius. Obviously, such drastic changes in weather soon began to affect our health. The so-called red chickenpox and the measles broke out in the congregation, and several families soon became ill, and a few people even died.

The Mexicans, who surrounded our village as if it were under siege, were constantly trying to sell us things – firewood, grain, horses, pigs, and slaughtered cattle. We found them rather repugnant, not only because we couldn’t speak to them but because it didn’t take long for us to notice their disloyalty and deceitfulness. We soon realized that many of the things they were trying to sell us were items that they had stolen. It also happened that one of our members bought an ox from a Mexican, which he intended to slaughter, but the next morning found that the rope had been cut and the ox disappeared for good. It is possible that the salesman was also the thief. Coming from Canada we were not used to such goings-on, and we soon began to think and to say: “As long as it doesn’t get any worse.” The words of the delegate Ohm Klaas Heide about Mexico being similar to Russia rang in our ears.

The first Sunday after our arrival we wanted to gather, if only under a tent, for a church service. It was a lovely morning, the kind that everyone wishes for; it was so beautiful that one could not help but think the following:

Give thanks for such a morning,
Which gives us time for goodness.
This is one’s greatest worry,
If a person’s thoughts are on God
And if one prays and sings from the heart,
So that it penetrates the clouds.

But before we could all gather, an immense storm appeared out of the southwest, which lifted so much dust into the air that the air turned black. To hold a service was unthinkable – every father had to try to tie down his tent, otherwise it would be carried away by the strong winds. By evening the storm finally let up, but by then the cold had set in and sent a chill right through the tents. The horses were the worst off, because they were outside tied to the wagons and had to weather the storm, rain, snow, frost, and heat. Monday morning we had to drive back into the city to pick up our things from the station. It was a miracle, though almost a shame, to see how fresh and happy the horses were and how they eagerly took us back into town. As soon as we had the wagons loaded and turned toward home, however, their heads fell sadly and they had no desire to go. They had thought that we were taking them back to Canada to their warm stalls and their nice mangers. They knew what awaited them if they had to return to that misery. For during the day they were drenched in sweat because it was so hot and they had to pull such heavy loads, and during the night it was freezing cold and they had to stand outside tied to the wagons. It is truly a wonder how much understanding the all-powerful God and creator instilled in the dumb beasts of burden, which makes us as humans think:

Observe the mass of creatures does abound,
That demonstrate his power;
But there is nowhere to be found,
One who compares to you.
You alone are in God’s image,
Can reason and consider,
Determine and make your choice,
To choose for good or evil.
Now God has raised you up,
So he expects from you,
That you would praise him and would fear him,
With eagerness.
And reflect him like a picture.
Yes, holiness and love
Consecrate the heart of virtue.
Never follow the pursuit of sensuality.

No less depressing were the conditions in which the cattle were forced to live. How sadly they looked at us, as if to say: “How we long for food!” “How the cattle moan! The herds mill about because they have no pasture” (Joel 1:18), and “the ox knows his master, the donkey his owner’s manger, but Israel does not know, my people do not understand” (Isaiah 1:3).

I have already mentioned the two Mexicans who were so loyal and diligent in helping unload my rail car, and that the one returned again and again to offer his assistance. And help me he did! It took about three weeks to move all of our things from the city to our village, and every time I rode into town he was there already waving his hat in the distance as soon as he saw me, and hurried over to me and made friendly gestures that I could not understand. He helped me load my wagon every single time, always with the utmost effort. He watered my horses, and rode with me a ways out of the city and then hopped out, gestured thankfully, and went back into town. And the next time I came into town he was there waiting for me. And of course, now and then I put a coin in his empty pocket, and sometimes he very happily shared the meal that my wife had sent along, for just as we learn in Matthew, “The worker is worth his keep” (Matthew 10:10). One Sunday, a long time later, after we were already living in real houses, and I hadn’t been to town in a long time, this loyal soul came riding into our village. He had asked others where we lived, and so he came and knocked on our door. As we invited him in, I noticed right away that it was my old friend, who had rendered me such loyal service. We invited him to join us at the table, for we were just sitting down for vesper. After we had eaten and drunk, we sat for a while at the table with him and our children without saying a single word. We all just sat and looked fondly at one another. After he had looked around in our house, and looked benevolently at our children, he bid us farewell and rode away. How often I have wished that the dear Lord would richly repay this loyal friend for all his work, just as he has blessed me. Through this experience I came to understand what our precious Saviour meant when he said: “I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings” (Luke 16:9). And though we were initially afraid of the people of this land, it didn’t take long for us to realize that we had a lot to learn from them, especially regarding the cultivation of the soil, such as the proper time and luck required for planting. Mostly we learned to appreciate their simple and modest lifestyle, and though we may have found some of their practices distasteful, we learned from their patience and contentment, just as the poet writes:

Patience is necessary,
When worry, grief, and sorrow,
And what will nearly kill us,
Pierces in the heart,
O chosen number!
And if death doesn’t kill you,
Then patience is required,
I’ll say it one more time.

They were indispensable helpers when it came time to work. Their service when it came to brick laying and building houses was invaluable. When some of our people would inconsiderately demand that the government remove all natives – meaning the Mexicans – from our land as quickly as possible, I often reminded them and even read to them what the Lord promised Israel: The natives living among you must not be mistreated. Love him as yourself, for you were strangers in Egypt” (Leviticus 19:34). And also: “Do not be terrified by them, for the Lord your God, who is among you, is a great and awesome God. The Lord your God will drive out those nations before you, little by little. You will not be allowed to eliminate them all at once, or the wild animals will multiply around you” (Deuteronomy 7:21–22). Dear children, if you desire to live with good fortune and full days, and to know little of poverty and hard times, then read this book often to remind yourselves of our difficult beginning here in Mexico. But if our dear heavenly father lets the odd drop of sorrow fall into your cup of joy, accept it, for time won’t stand still. We would still be able to say (or at least I know I could) along with the poet:

The emigration that did happen,
Is for us truly not a sorrow.
Things should still get better,
Even into isolation.
Therefore children, don’t be anxious,
Disdain a thousand worlds,
Enticements, and scolding,
And go along your path.

And if we spent the first six weeks, day and night, in the same clothes, and the first three of those weeks in tents, and the entire time were nursing sick children, you can easily imagine that it wasn’t exactly the best of times for our physical bodies. But for the inner spirit it was very healthy and salutary. It was a great motivating force for prayer. The reason we lived in tents for so long was because we couldn’t find enough wood to build our houses. When we were finally able to nail some raw boards together to build a makeshift house, we thought our sick son Benjamin would get better, but the heavenly father, in his wisdom, decided otherwise.

One day, the fifth of April, as I returned from a funeral, my wife – your dear mother – came out to meet me, and with tears in her eyes she spoke the following words: “About our dear Benjamin it can now rightly be said”:

Out of the prison I’m going out,
Out of the misery and fear,
Because God has called me into the heavenly house,
He calls me out of the earthly chamber.
Why do you lament death in such a way
When it has done nothing awful to me?

Some cross-bearing and adversity we had to take as love, for if the dough was frozen on the table in the morning and the coffee frozen on the stove, it wasn’t a rare occasion. Anyway, as humans we could still cover ourselves up warmly at night and we could still eat until we were satisfied, but it was the poor cattle that suffered the most. And the inconvenient weather caused even more sickness and death.

And as the first settlers in the region, we had to spread out so as to occupy the entire area designated for our colony, which made funerals rather inconvenient. One day I received an invitation to a funeral for our sister in the faith, Mrs. Abraham Wiebe, and I was told that she had settled in village no. 1, Kleefeld.² But how was I to get there? It was supposed to be about eighteen miles away, but in which direction I wasn’t totally clear, because it was often difficult to tell which way was north and which was south. On the specified day I set out very early in the morning, and I drove over paths and bridges and sticks and stones for hours in the direction which I thought was north, without a single indicator of our people or a village. I drove so long that the sun already indicated that it was midday, and still there was no sign that my goal was in sight. The horses were weak and tired and wanted to rest, so I could only proceed at a slow pace. Finally I happened upon an old well-used Mexican road. I stopped here and determined that this road must come from the southwest and headed into town. I decided to follow the road into the city and to try to find my way to Kleefeld from there.

I hadn’t gone far along this path when I encountered an elderly Mexican couple, each person riding on a little donkey. When they saw me they gestured with deference, and I thought to myself: “If only I could speak but a few words with them, then I could ask them about this road and if they know the way to Kleefeld.” I motioned to them to stop, and attempted to ask them, using all sorts of signs and gestures, if there were any people like me in this vicinity. After exerting myself considerably I noticed that the wife seemed to grasp what I was asking and after discussing it with her husband she began motioning with her finger back toward the east. She made a big arc toward the east and then a quick one to the south. According to her signal I had already wandered too far to the west, which the nearness of the mountains confirmed. They indicated that I should turn around and drive back down this road and then turn off to the south. How often during this trip my thoughts turned to David and his musings on the sorry state of affairs of humanity after the fall, and how people are by nature utterly confused and lost, and stalked like a sheep by a wolf which grows ever more confused because it runs without considering where it is going or where it will end up. In the same way the human has no idea what destination his soul will reach. In the Psalms it is written: “I have strayed like a lost sheep. Seek your servant” (Psalm 119:176). And I thought to myself, just as easily as one loses one’s way on the physical path and struggles with great difficulty to find it again, so it is on the spiritual path if one is not vigilant in prayer and supplication. One must always keep the word of God before one’s eyes, and be ever aware of the impulses of one’s evil heart. For:

One can unknowingly commit
So many sins.
God then will have the thought
To stand by his handiwork.
A single mangy sheep,
Corrupts the entire flock.
Who is standing then see to it,
That he does not also fall.

How careful and vigilant is the person who has lost his way; how carefully he watches every marker on the path, looking with hopeful expectation in all directions, hoping that somewhere he will see a sign that will point him in the right direction. If only one would pay such close attention on the narrow heavenly way. And if we realize that we were mistaken, or that we have missed something or sinned against God or neighbour, then we must anxiously seek to find the right path through conviction, penance, and forgiveness of sins:

An Ezra leaves the narrow way,
For yonder city of blessedness.
Situated extremely dangerously,
Only the width of a human foot,
And blaze and water shut him in.
That’s how difficult it is to be a Christian.

The person will only notice these things, however, if he desires to live rightly before God, and wants to be better, more pious, and more holy. But one will encounter unspeakable resistance, so much so that it is often hard to know if one has turned to righteousness, and with that change has truly repented. The penitent sinner will sometimes feel driven into a corner, as if night has fallen on a dangerous journey, and he has once again lost his way, so much so that he will cry out:

Oh, if only we were almost across!
Oh, what mountains and heights
I see when I look around,
There is no path to be seen.
I’m going more back than forward,
I fear that I am being beguiled
By some sort of ghost light at this place;
My God and Lord!
If only we were almost across.

But we know that even on the heavenly path there may be ghost lights that seek to lead us astray, especially if we rely too much on ourselves, on our own strength, and our own feelings and understanding. For if our own understanding, our reason, is not constantly being illuminated by God’s Spirit, then it may deceive us miserably.

Reason goes where it wills,
The devil, he can turn it.
If God’s spirit doesn’t help you,
Then it will happen to you.

“Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness . . . and walks around in the darkness; he does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded him” (1 John 2:9, 11). Therefore Jesus said: “You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you” (John 12:35). And in another place Jesus says: “‘For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind.’ Some Pharisees who were with him heard him say this and asked, ‘What? Are we blind too?’ Jesus said, ‘If you were blind you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains’” (John 9:39–41). And Paul says: “The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God” (2 Corinthians 4:4).

Now let me return to my story of my journey to the funeral of the deceased sister in the faith. Following the advice of the elderly Mexican woman on the donkey, I turned back and tried to follow her directions exactly. After I had driven quite a long way down the road, straining my eyes all the while to the south just as she had said, I spied a pile of hay in the distance. I knew that the Mexicans didn’t make hay piles for the winter, so I knew that our people must be somewhere close by. I guided my nearly exhausted horses in that direction, and as I approached the hay pile, I noticed that they had built their village along a riverbed, which was now dry. Those gathered for the funeral were anxiously awaiting my arrival and had begun to fear that I had had an accident and that I wouldn’t be able to make it. They were all happy to see me and they asked why I was so late. I told them the whole story, about how I had gotten lost, and about the Mexican couple, and about how I had all but given up hope that I would find my way here. They were very understanding and they invited me to stay for lunch and they told me that they had also invited the dear Ohm and preacher Gerhard Friesen of Neuenburg, and that his luck wasn’t any better than mine.

So I suggested that we wait for a while before beginning the funeral – perhaps he would still come. After we had eaten lunch we went and sat outside the door and looked in all directions to see if perhaps we could see him in the distance. Finally we spotted two heavily armed soldiers riding over the hill, with the dear Ohm positioned in between them like a criminal. They rode over to our gathering and the two soldiers climbed off their horses and greeted us in the friendliest manner. We could read neither fear nor fright in Ohm Gerhard’s face, and in the most relaxed tone he told us that he too could not find his way here and that after searching for a long time, he had finally happened upon these two soldiers, who had been sent at the request of a well-known Mexican to act as our guards. The soldiers unbridled their horses and sat down obediently outside along a wall and listened attentively to the funeral sermon. They also accompanied us to the cemetery, probably just so they could witness a Mennonite burial. After they had eaten the vesper meal, they expressed their gratitude and headed happily on their way. Alas, the ride home went much better. The horses had rested and eaten during the funeral, and before the sun had set I was back at home with my dear members.

But the high costs of settling a new village could only be realized over time. And even if in general we had more about which to be thankful than to complain, remember always, my dear children, that moving from one country to the next is not something to be taken lightly. Only after one has fled from one country to another can one properly appreciate what it feels like to go to sleep in one’s own bed in a warm room and sleep peacefully knowing that the animals too are under a roof and are well fed. These are all things that we had to forego. About our forefathers it may be said: “Then they would put their trust in God and would not forget his deeds but would keep his commands” (Psalm 78:7).

And this has also been our stick and our staff throughout our many trials, that we have turned our tear-streaked faces upward, and have remembered the miracles that the Lord performed for our fathers and for the Israelites. And yet, thirty-seven years later, we looked back on that time and anxiously wondered again what we would eat and what we would feed our cattle, for all the grass was burned and the open fields, which were supposed to be our home, could be compared to black heather, and the little grass that had survived was so dry that its nutritious benefits were practically negligible. And with prayerful hearts we looked to the sky for clouds and hoped for rain and fruitfulness, but we had to learn that God helps us in his time, as the poet says:

If the wise God doesn’t record
Hours, time, and measure,
Then do not ask what he’s doing.
For he isn’t starting just today
To care for you.
For nothing is hidden from him,
The God who is able to help you.

Instead of rain we received windstorms and dust, as if the Lord “called for a drought on the fields and the mountains, on the grain . . . on whatever the ground produces, on men and cattle, and on the labor of [our] hands” (Haggai 1:11). Often we were happy when the day was finally over, for the storm was generally strongest during the day. And so without hesitating I can say that our first days and weeks and months in the tents were spent in prayer and work and watchfulness, in frost and heat, and that we endured much adversity. And as weak as I was, and as much as I struggled to stick with the work that we had started, we were driven by our need to our heavenly father. When Sundays came we were happy if we could gather together under the large tent for a service in spite of the inclement weather. Through singing and prayer we would praise and thank our loving God for his indescribable grace, love, and goodness, which he gave to us sinful people, and that after much searching and anxious waiting he once again brought us into a land where we could enjoy our precious freedoms in our schools and in our churches.

And we would thank him for keeping us all together, and for delivering us safely to this place. He did so much for us that we would often turn our thoughts and senses heavenward and exclaim: “Thank you dearest Lord Jesus a thousand times over!” And to Israel it was said: “It is not because of your righteousness that the Lord your God is giving you this good land to possess, for you are a stiff-necked people. Remember this and never forget how you provoked the Lord your God to anger in the desert. From the day you left Egypt until you arrived here, you have been rebellious against the Lord.” But when the Lord, in his wrath, raised his hand to punish or to destroy Israel, then Moses, his chosen one, prostrated himself and beseeched the Lord, saying: “Sovereign Lord, do not destroy your people, your own inheritance that you redeemed by your great power and brought out of Egypt with a mighty hand. Remember your servants Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Overlook the stubbornness of this people, their wickedness and their sin. Otherwise, the country from which you brought us will say, ‘Because the Lord was not able to take them into the land he had promised them, and because he hated them, he brought them out to put them to death in the desert.’ But they are your people, your inheritance that you brought out by your great power and your outstretched arm” (Deuteronomy 9:6–7, 26–29). And so we could only consider what God had done for us to be an undeserved gift, and we dared not feel worthy of such grace. And what we could not grasp with our understanding or our foolish reason, that we simply had to leave up to the all-wise leadership of our God. And if we would seek at all times to be righteous children of God, and to allow ourselves to be led by his good Spirit, then we could place our trust in him, regardless of the circumstances, be it need, crisis, pressure, danger, or trouble. We could place all of our concerns upon him, and as children rush to their father, we could approach God with fervent love.

My dear children, how young and innocent you were when we first settled here (Isaak was about six, Susanna four, Peter twelve, and Katharina fifteen). And when the others died, it was often you who taught me what real faith was. And some evenings I came home so weak and tired, and had worked the entire day under a thousand concerns and complaints in the congregation, and had travelled around with Ohm Franz Loewen, and I had neither the counsel nor the means by which to solve people’s problems, and one complained of this and the other of that. So often I was just relieved that another day was over, but then you children came to me so happily and cared for me as if you didn’t have a care in the world, and I was so overcome by your joy that it brought tears to my eyes. And sometimes you too would have sorrows, or you would have an accident, and you came to me crying, and told me what was wrong, trusting that either your mother or I would comfort you and share with you in your pain.

It was during these times that you taught me with your childlike confidence that I too could approach my father in heaven and cast all of my cares upon him because “he will never let the righteous fall” (Psalm 55:22).

Why, poor heart, do you always worry like a heathen,
About what tomorrow will bring?
What good is all your daily grieving?
We know God will
When all is still
Consider what you are needing.

And Jesus asks us: “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? . . . If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:9, 11)

If we as humans could only get beyond our disobedience and our half-heartedness and our despondency. And how often we scold or try to master the all-wise and wonderful leading of our God, so often that we should hardly trust him to continue to lead our young and our old, and we ought not expect that he would bless us with our sustenance here on this hard dry land. But he, who is able to do overwhelmingly more than an earthly father, has not left his promises to us unfulfilled. For he has shown us nothing but love and compassion. And what do we owe him? When we consider his effusive goodness, which he has showered upon us to this very hour, we are reminded of the godly promise: “See I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared. Pay attention to him and listen to what he says. Do not rebel against him; he will not forgive your rebellion, since my Name is in him. If you listen carefully to what he says and do all that I say, I will be an enemy to your enemies and will oppose those who oppose you. . . . Worship the Lord your God and his blessing will be on your food and water. I will take away sickness from among you” (Exodus 23:20-22, 25-26a).

All the things that we encountered during the difficult settlement period should have fostered in us a true mutual love. For it is natural that if one person undeservedly receives an act of kindness from another person, it engenders feelings of love and appreciation and the recipient of the act considers how he might repay the other. And if we do such things naturally, then how much more should we love him who first loved us (1 John 4:19).

How moving and encouraging those sermons were for us on Sundays. How we yearned for the beautifully built churches and houses of prayer that we left in that beautiful country that we used to love, Canada. It is only during the hard times that one learns to understand the following words: “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty! My soul longs, even faints for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young – a place near your altar, O Lord Almighty, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you. Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baka, they make it a place of springs. . . . They also go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion” (Psalm 84:1–7). And so it went with us. Instead of being meeting in nice warm rooms in big churches in the fatherland that we loved, we had to bend down to the dust, and we didn’t hesitate to kneel on the raw earth, the hard fields, before our God and creator. And there we planted many seeds of tears and sighs, and praying along with the poet we said:

Refresh us Lord with your blessing,
Just like a soft evening rain.
Refreshment, in this world of tears,
Where we, as pilgrims walk even as we are dying away,
And as foreigners in oppression stand.
O God! Be our protection and our hero.

We read there about the Israelites, how at God’s command they went out of their master’s house Egypt, and how through a high hand he taught them to walk in obedience in his ways and in his laws, often through promises of blessing but also by threats of all sorts of punishments. Deuteronomy 28 states: “If you do not obey the Lord your God and do not carefully follow all his commands and decrees I am giving you . . . the sky over your head will be bronze, the ground beneath you iron. . . . You will sow much seed in the field but you will harvest little” (Deuteronomy 28:15a, 23, 38a). And with such and similar thoughts we often went about when we considered the many sins and transgressions which made us guilty before our God, and one often heard God-fearing souls say that in general we went too lightly to the side of emigration and did not spend enough time as true children of God trusting in God and in Christian patience and isolation. And then there was the dried-up earth, which at that time really could be compared with iron; we had to wonder if the Lord our God allowed it to happen for our sake. For if the ground had not been so hard, our difficult beginning would have been a great deal easier. Had it only been possible, we would not have shied away from building huts in the earth just as our parents had done in Canada, to protect ourselves from the powerful storms, cold, frost, and heat. And even if nothing really strange happened to us, and even if because of our sins we didn’t deserve anything better, we could not help but feel sorry for the innocent children, whose crying voices could be heard in the cold nights in the tents. Soon many of the dear little ones became ill because of it and through death were carried away from all the misery. The same may be said of the cattle, which were often on the verge of starvation, and which cried out for food because of hunger, but we were unable to provide it, as if the cattle too had to carry our sins and misdeeds. For the feed that we had brought along from Canada was quickly consumed and when we inquired of the Mexicans whether more feed could be purchased in town, it was for them a totally foreign question, for the Mexican worries little about cattle, and little stock is placed in whether it survives the long drought in the dead winter. And what only increased our distress was the fact that because of the poor housing conditions and the variable weather, many of our dear elderly, on whom one could still lean and in whom one could take comfort, soon became sick, and as weak and weary pilgrims laid down their walking sticks and, after this short life with all its hardships and nuisances, entered into that peace which exists for God’s people (Hebrews 4).

The first funeral occurred the second week after our arrival, and it was that of Mrs. Johann Loewen of Rosengart. It was with just cause a sad funeral. Not only because the children and the dear mothers and members were crying because they, in spite of their best efforts, had not been able to properly care for her, but also because the very hard ground made it nearly impossible to make a grave. With the utmost exertion and with the help of two Mexicans, it still took until noon of the day of the funeral to finish it. Moreover, a violent storm made us all scared and anxious, for it seemed as though we, along with the tents, would be picked up and carried away. I stood full of fear and disquietude in the middle of the tent, in the gathering, and in my weakness delivered the funeral sermon. At one point the storm broke through the overhead beams, which supported the tent, so that it seemed that the whole thing was about to collapse. Immediately several brothers grabbed the broken beam with their hands and held it up until the funeral sermon was finished. Almost every family had a sick child in its tent that desperately needed care, so that when many of the other tents were ripped down by the storm, the whining and crying of the children was indistinguishable from the howling of the storm. And in our great need and affliction we had nowhere else to turn but to the one whom the wind and the weather obey, and who, when called by his disciples, calmed the wind with one word (Matthew 8:26). So many times we turned in prayer to the who said: “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5). And during the long drought we often sighed:

God, give us a mild rain,
For my heart is dry like sand;
Father! Send from heaven blessing,
And quench your thirsting land;
Let the Holy Spirit’s gifting
Flow down on me from above,
Like the mighty rivers flowing
Filling my heart with love.

How beneficial, how strengthening, and refreshing it was for us the first time we saw a beautiful rainbow in the clouds. I think it was the beginning of April, as small rain clouds moved in above us, and gathered in the east, that the little rainbow let itself be seen in the clouds. Never before have the words of the poet touched me so deeply in my heart as here in the new homeland, when I saw that rainbow of grace after so many worries, trials, and cares, when he says:

God is still well-disposed toward us,
See what the Father does,
He paints for us the rainbow
In his own son’s blood!

Then we remembered the promise that the Lord made with Noah and his seed as is written in Genesis 9:12–15: “And God said: ‘This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come: I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life.”

And then we thought, God has been so loyal and true in keeping his promises, and wishes to keep and maintain his covenant that he established with us and all living creatures on earth after the flood, up to the thousandth member. We too ought to keep the covenant that we established with him when we underwent baptism, when we promised and consented to live in holiness and justice, as gives him pleasure. And so it was just as good when he let us see his rainbow here in this foreign land as if he had said that he would not let his promises to us go unfulfilled: “I will not take my love from him, nor will I ever betray my faithfulness. I will not violate my covenant or alter what my lips have uttered. Once for all, I have sworn by my holiness – and I will not lie to David – that his line will continue forever and his throne endure before me like the sun; it will be established forever like the moon, the faithful witness in the sky” (Psalm 89:33–37). And then we would surely say:

My dear God, on your side
Let this covenant firmly stay.
And even if I should it deride,
Do not let me lose my way.
Accept me, your child through grace,
Even if I have brought disgrace!

One soul that was moved by the power of the godly word to flee out of Babylon, is worth, according to the Word of God and his precious promises, more than “thousands of pieces of silver and gold” (Psalm 119:72).

How comforting and encouraging is it not, in various sorts of distress and trouble, if the rich and those who have had their fill only try to escape the cross, especially in a new settlement where initially everything is foreign and unfamiliar. The soul eager for salvation, the person who hungers after the justice of Jesus, though confronted with a thousand obstacles in his path, will strive to be ever more firmly in the grace of God.

How eagerly this soul gathers all the crumbs that are spread here and there throughout the Word of God, so that not even the slightest of them will go bad or be neglected. One learns, indeed, that trouble teaches one to pay attention to God’s Word (Isaiah 28). This sort of soul learns that in all external trials and suffering and various types of poverty and deprivation that have been dispersed throughout a settlement as if on a black moor that the Word of God can often strengthen far better than any human comfort, and that the Lord will rescue it “from every evil attack and will bring [it] safely to his heavenly kingdom” (2 Timothy 4:17–18). And it is often then that one grasps the stick and the staff, in order to lift up casual praying hands and tired knees, and to pay careful attention to all God’s promises, as it is written: We ought to thank the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonders, that he has done for all humanity. And we ought to praise him in the congregation and among the elders. “He turned rivers into a desert, flowing springs into thirsty ground, and fruitful land into a salt waste, because of the wickedness of those who lived there. He turned the desert into pools of water and the parched ground into flowing springs; there he brought the hungry to live, and they founded a city where they could settle. They sowed fields and planted vineyards that yielded a fruitful harvest; he blessed them, and their numbers greatly increased, and he did not let their herds diminish. Then their numbers decreased, and they were humbled by oppression, calamity and sorrow; he who pours contempt on nobles made them wander in a trackless waste. But he lifted the needy out of their affliction and increased their families like flocks. The upright see and rejoice, but all the wicked shut their mouths” (Psalm 107:31–42).

Now dear children, because I have gotten too far ahead with my story, I will have to go back a ways, to the time when our emigration train was passing through the United States. As I already described, the trains drove through the United States extraordinarily fast, so that at times we were afraid and anxious. Now what helped to seriously increase our concern was this: as the train was stopped for about an hour in Kansas City, a stranger unexpectedly boarded the train. In my opinion, I would have judged him as a learned man, one who was well trained and well taught in the wisdom of this world. He asked in his High German language if there wasn’t among our travelling party a minister with whom he could speak. This question was immediately answered by some of our own with a yes, and he was directed to the bench on the train where I sat with my family. He came immediately over to me, sat down next to me, and asked me my name. Full of fear and anxiety, I told him my name, knowing full well that he, with his higher education, wished to initiate a discussion with me. How different it would be if during such hours one could hold to the words of Jesus when he gave us the promise: “Do not worry about what to say or how to say it . . . for it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you” (Matthew 10:19–20). It is for that reason that prayer for the Holy Spirit, which enlightens our minds, is so necessary, but we do not do it on days that are going well, so that when such tests come, we are unprepared. To my great luck, the dear fellow servant Franz Loewen was sitting right near me, and listened quietly and comfortably to the words that the man was saying to us. He first wanted to know what sort of people we were, where we were coming from, and where we wanted to go. We told him that we were Mennonites, and that we were driven out of our fatherland Canada because we could no longer have freedom in our schools. “So!” He said, “You’re willing to make such a big sacrifice just because of your private schools, and the government in Canada is willing to leave your religion and your beliefs?” “Yes,” we said, “we were afraid that if we shared our schools – the place where seeds are first sown in the human heart – with the world, then our churches would not be able to remain separate. For in order to maintain the faith and a clear conscience, our forefathers were always travelling, namely from Holland to Germany, from Germany to Russia, from Russia to Canada, and now we, too, have come into the position where we could no longer remain in Canada with its public schools that were forced upon us with prison sentences and fines. Our forefathers always took the school question very seriously, because they understood well that what the school is, the church will become. And in Mexico we found what we had lost in Canada, namely full freedom of conscience and the expression of our religion, as much in the schools as in the churches, and a contract from the government to ensure it.” After listening attentively to our speech, he reflected deeply and replied, “Very good that you have taken this step for your children.” But as a people he was very sorry for us, for if we, on account of our faith and religion, wanted to flee, then we ought to have chosen a different country than Mexico, for things would not go well under the Mexican government. We said that we didn’t rely only the government, for the God of our fathers had always stood by our forefathers, Aeltesten, and ministers and had helped them out of trouble and tribulations and he could help us too, and if we would walk in his ways and his laws, then he would not abandon us in Mexico. “Quite right,” he said, “but can’t you see from the prophets, and the revelation to John, that in the last hour the Antichrist will appear again and will try to bring everything under his sceptre and to force everything under his beliefs?” (Daniel 7:25; 11:36–37; Revelation 13:5–6, and ch. 17; 2 Thessalonians 2:3–4). He continued, “And if, in the sixteenth century, kings and emperors had taken power from away from the pope in Rome to such an extent that he was forced to stop the bloody persecution of Christians, even then he swore on his throne that he would once again set his foot on the grave of Protestants (Protestant means all confessions that protested the papacy, for instance, the Reformers, Lutherans, and Mennonites). And because Mexico was largely Catholic, he was of the opinion that in recent times this danger was greatest in Mexico. And with this he bid us farewell most respectfully and left the train. I still feel badly that I did not ask this man for his name.

Now we were all depressed anew. Such words of wisdom from such a well-spoken, highly educated man were like a drop of bitter wormwood in our cups of joy. We would gladly have heard otherwise. We were already lacking in courage, comfort, and determination without this man’s prophecy because we had undertaken the emigration with much consideration, fear, and doubt. Again we felt like the children of Israel; it was as if the Red Sea stood in front of us with the frightening question: what all would we meet with in Mexico? How would we get along there? Who would protect us from the evil that this man had prophesied? But Pharaoh was behind us with his whole army, namely, the powerful school pressure, and each one knew that turning back to Canada meant willingly bringing one’s children under the flag, under militarism, and throwing one’s children into the river of this world.

Dear children! If the whip of discipline had not been constantly behind us, few members of our congregation would have remained in Mexico during the difficult settlement years.

Now, we will have to leave it up to the all-wise guidance of our God to determine how true the sayings of this man were, and depending on whether we are worthy or unworthy the hour of judgment will also come upon us. But in any case, it was a nice motivation for prayer. And even if I spoke little to our people about this man, and I too did not want to believe what he told us, I still held his words, and considered them often in my heart. And it seemed that the more familiar we became with the conditions in Mexico and over time had some bitter experiences with the people of this country and with the government, the more I thought about this man. The seasons in Mexico, which were determined by God, were also very foreign and unfamiliar to us. And then also the promise, that he made to us right at creation, when he says: “As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease” (Genesis 8:22). “It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth” (Psalm 74:17).

It seemed as though when the time finally came for us to plant, plow, and seed, it was nearly fall in Canada. Alas, before the planting season is over here in Mexico, in Canada the fields are ripe for harvesting. This was all a big change for us, which demanded a strong faith in God, and a firm reliance upon the promises of grace in God’s Word. While news from Canada arrived over here through letters that everything was in its best growth there, and that an especially nice, richly blessed harvest was in view, so that they were rightly singing “the wheat is growing with force, let young and old rejoice, etc.,” everything was arid and dry. The common expression “May makes all things new” had no meaning in Mexico. There were no green grass or plants to be found, and the poor cattle had to pathetically hunger through it, and many cattle fell to their deaths through lack of fodder.

During this long dry period several trains carrying immigrants arrived from Canada. I think about one train a month arrived. For these new immigrants there were also some disappointments. Some of them felt that the difference between Canada and this place was so large that they felt that they had been driven out of paradise, which, if we wanted to understand it spiritually, could also be said of us. For, just as Adam and Eve could not remain in paradise because of their transgression and disobedience, the same could be said of us. For had we not reached out our hand toward the forbidden fruit, stretched it out to the great equalization with this world, so that with respect to house, yard, clothing, and vehicles we were no longer in the humility, in the simplicity of Christ, we could have remained there a while longer. The Fall corrupted everything.

It was around this time that the dear Aeltester Ohm Johann Friesen came to us from Canada, in order to serve the congregation with baptism and communion. He brought us comfort and encouragement, and ardently wished us rain from heaven and fruitful times, lest we lose courage or become timid. One day he was in Rosengart at Jacob Loewen’s for the funeral of a small child. He mentioned in his funeral sermon the words of Jesus: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29). He laid these words very near to our hearts, and wanted to strengthen us with them, even if we couldn’t see much good, that is, as far as the earthly realm was concerned, in Mexico. We were supposed to believe that the dear God could nourish and sustain us just as well here as in the richly blessed Canada. Never before had I found so much comfort, guidance, strength, and confidence in these words of our precious Redeemer as when I heard the dear Aeltester so trustfully speak about these words through the Spirit of God. Finally, it appeared as if our prayers were answered, and the long-awaited rainy season had begun. It was July 2, the first year of our settlement, that it had finally rained enough that we could plow the garden near the house.

That was refreshment that brought joy to both young and old. How diligently people plowed, though mostly just in the garden. Some, but only very few, planted some oats, because in our opinion it was already too late for everything. But we soon saw through the growth in the garden and in the fields, which soon emerged out of the earth nice and green and strong, that the soil in this foreign land was fruitful, a fact which filled our hearts with courage and glad hope. As the meadows soon turned green and were covered with the most different sorts of flowers, we thought of the words of the poet:

What formerly seemed dead,
Spirit and sap have now acquired.
Fields, meadows, forests, and heather,
One now sees with delight and joy,
How splendidly they now turn green,
That which once seemed to have died,
And so let us also arise,
And go to our Jesus;
And the cold and sluggish heart
Becomes soft with regret and pain.
Let us cultivate true love,
And put off all sin and desire;
Let us again be renewed,
And ready to serve God,
To start a new life;
Through a spiritual desire
Strengthen what was dead,
And always show improvement.

1. This passage of verse is taken from a migration ballad that appears to have been written by evangelist and poet Bernhard Harder (1832–1884), on the occasion of the migration of Mennonites from Russia to North America in 1874. Peter Unruh Schmidt, The Peter Unruh Genealogy, Beginning with Unrau, Born about 1675 (Newton, KS: Herold Publishing, 1941), 123–128. ↩︎
2. The Mennonite settlers organized their colonies into numbered villages or campos. ↩︎