As the oldest, my siblings had asked me to welcome everyone to Dad's funeral service and to lead the congregation in an opening prayer.
I had been toying with the idea of singing 'The Lord's Prayer' in the traditional arrangement by Albert Hay Malotte. I have sung this version many times at weddings and other events without accompaniment (acapella). And I thought this might relieve the pressure to find a pianist and time to practice. Dad had always enjoyed my singing and I thought this would be appropriate.
However, on Monday morning I awoke at the Toronto Hilton with a song playing in my head that just would not quit. Janice reminded me that I had sung the prayer of St Francis Assisi many years ago under the direction of Marie Devereau and on this day as it wouldn't leave me, I became convinced that it must be the Good Lord's leading to sing it once again.
Although I never found the music, I was able to find the lyrics and the key I should use to sing it. On Tuesday at Dad's funeral, Bev Foster provided the 'A' I needed from the piano and I sang it acapella. It seems the prayer was a blessing for many. May it bless you now as well.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Mary Dickau Searches for the Evans Homestead
24 hours in Wales
Seeking family threads in Radnorshire
First, the context - I have always wanted to travel to Wales.
First, the context - I have always wanted to travel to Wales.
Since I was young I have had a day-dream that one day I would walk down the street of the ‘wee village’ of my forebears, and a grizzled and wizened man would walk up, greet me and say, “Ach, yourre an Evans lass, I’ll grant ye; can tell by the look a’ yer eyes”.
Okay, so the dream sounds more Scottish than Welsh, and practically, I favor the Wilson looks, not the Evans,..... However, an active imagination can always get over such a little reality bump, and the desire to walk those streets has never left me. So when the opportunity came to travel to Wales, alongside a trip to Scotland and England, I jumped at the chance.
Roots and Wings
are all a part of my family heritage - a historical story has grounded and shaped us; and the continued creative life spark blossoms and fruits in new ways with each generation. What thread in Wales could I find that has been woven through our history and continues even to this day? What if there were people in Wales whom we could name as family? What if we could recognize them and they us, as being held in the same kinship - strangers that nontheless carry the same heartbeat, the same blood?
Visiting you in May and listening to your stories Dad,
filled in some of the blanks for me in terms of David Evans and his second wife Mary Harris; how they imigrated to Canada and how they settled into the land around Uxbridge area - 3 generations of Evans who loved God and cared for their neighbor. Through your stories, Dad, I could see more of what was important to you and how your family had passed these things on to you - shouldering responsibility; not being afraid to take on something new; trusting an inner ability to learn and overcome; loving music, laughter and family; caring for neighbors; and blessing the land as good stewards. I heard your desire that we, your children and grandchildren, would continue to carry on with what you have strived toward your whole life. Your stories in May were shot through with an innate sense of a living God who through all your endeavors and even in what you cannot understand or have been hurt by, is here - present and purposeful - to live in and through you, continuing onward in us. It has blessed you as it blesses us.
It must be a thread that has been strengthened by generations of faith, from even further back than Reverend David Evans, who was born in Abaty Cumhir, County Radnorshire,Wales in 1795, and died near Victoria Corners, Ontario, in 1879. I wanted to see what more I could learn.
How To???
MY PLAN was to travel from
Glastonbury, England to Newtown, Wales on July 1st. This involved catching the bus at 9:30 at the center square of Glastonbury, travelling to Bristol, Temple Meads station in order to catch a train into Southport, Wales; transferring trains in order to travel back to the England side of the border and north to Shrewsbury; transferring trains for the final leg of the journey into Wales, ending at Newtown at 5pm.
So far so good.
Once I arrived at my bed and breakfast I would then pick up my rented car and prepare to drive around the countryside the next day, July 2nd.
Problem: in my adventurous moments I was confident that I could drive in this country; in my realistic moments I thoroughly questioned my confidence! As I watched the traffic and listened to the welsh language, trying to integrate what I ‘heard’ someone say with what I read on the sign, I realized that along with driving on the ‘other’ side of the road, I would have to use a stick shift with my left hand, and at the same time read all signs and maps using words that I could not read much less understand being spoken.
So I prayed, ‘Jesus, I will be in Wales for one day and I am determined to find the place that Dad has told me about - the picture that he remembers - but I have no idea where it is and I need help. I don’t think I can drive and do this on my own. I will leave it in your hands and ask you to please make a way for me. Whatever you plan will be okay with me. Thank you, Jesus. Amen.’
GOD’S PLAN came about surprisingly,
with me getting lost. (smile) When I arrived in Newtown and alighted from the train I realized that although I had the name of the Bed and Breakfast which I had booked for two nights - Yesterdays’ Hotel - I neglected to write down the directions to it! I went to the grocery store across the street from the station and enquired there. Thankfully, Newtown is small - about 14,000 people, and all very helpful. Yes, they knew the place and if I would just go out of the store, head left until I came to a cenotaph, then follow some short turns of left, right, and right, I would find myself at the B & B. After thanking them, I headed out of the store and went left, (for a little ways) until I encountered some construction (no one said anything about construction!) and thought that they must have meant the first left after I got to a real (according to my perception) street!
So I turned around and headed out, dutifully following (the rest) of the directions, which brought me about 2 miles away without any cenotaph in sight. I saw two women walking toward me and stopped them to ask if I was headed the right direction. They also (thankfully) knew of the B&B and assured me that had I kept marching the way I was going, I would have been out into the countryside before I knew it.
So they turned me around and we walked together as they asked me why I was there. At this point, I want to tell you that I noticed one of the women especially - Elaine James. As I walked beside her, I thought that I was walking with my cousin Cathy! She had some of the same mannerisms, and her voice, turn of phrase, her mouth - I felt like I recognized her. I certainly felt comforted by her and she walked with me for some way, even after her friend left us - asking me more questions. So I told her that my Dad’s family had come from the Llanbister/Felindre area in County Radnorshire, in the mid-1800’s, that their name was Evans, that David Evans had been born in Abaty Cum-din, and that one of his farms had been named Foesy-Feen Farm. I mentioned that my Dad had described a picture of a laneway that went up a hill and divided off; how there was a sign at the beginning of the lane, and how to the left of the lane there was a ditch and a river. I told how I was determined to do my best to find it somehow, and got a bit teary-eyed at that point because, Dad, you had just had the renal failure crisis at the hospital and I was not sure that I would get to tell you about the adventure of finding the place you described!
They were kind, wished me all the best, and I thanked Elaine and blessed her for her help.
I then DID find my way, and arrived at the B&B in time to cancel my order for a car.
Fast forward to 4 hours later after I had met my hosts (the next story to tell), settled into my room, headed out for a walkabout of the downtown area, and then arrived back to kick off my shoes and prepare for bed. Just then there was a knock at my door and my hostess Moyra informed me that I ‘had a gentleman caller’. I was very surprised and when I said that I did not know anyone here she replied that ‘yes, the gentleman told me that you would not know him!’. So I went down and this man began the conversation with “Hi Mary, you don’t know me, but I think we are related!”. It turned out that he was the husband of Elaine, who had gone home and looked at some of her genealogy notes. When she told him the area of the country I was looking at, he wanted to come and meet me because, as he said, ‘I grew up in that area and my family is related to just about everybody there!” His name was Jeff James. After some conversation, he then left to talk to his Aunt Marjorie at the other end of town, and came back about an hour later to confirm that his wife Elaine would pick me up the next evening and we would go compare notes with his Auntie ‘who knows everyone from the 1700’s onward’. (She is 86). That was Saturday evening taken care of!
Meanwhile, once I arrived at the B&B my hosts Moyra and Jim welcomed me. They have lived in Newtown for 20 years after emigrating there from South Africa. I borrowed their phone to cancel my order for a car and asked them if they knew of someone to drive me around the countryside the next day. I could pay. They too, were curious to know why I had come to Newtown, so once again I told them some of the story. About one hour later, Moyra came to tell me that she and Jim wanted to drive me around the next day to find this (now) mythical picture of Dad’s. They would accept no payment.
As we were planning where we would go the next day, I remembered that Ed Evans had given me the phone # of where he had stayed in Wales; he had said that the hostess knew were the chapel was. So I phoned, giving my name and mentioning visitors who had stopped by two years ago! Yes, she remembered them, and knew the way to the chapel, giving us the explicit directions that we would use. That was ALL of Saturday taken care of!
What a visit God planned!
I was overwhelmed with gratitude and it was still Friday night!
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| Moyra and Jim (mostly) and I spent a lot of time doing this - Jim is a map-readerpar excellence |
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| Maesyrhelem Chapel and school is where David Evans was baptized at 21, and married twice. Were his two children and first wife buried here? |
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| Looking through the school house and through to the fields on the other side of the school-house |
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| We have the key to the chapel |
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| Entry to the back of the chapel the top half of the back wooden walls lift up for air-flow in the sanctuary |
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| Left side stairs to the wrap- around balcony |
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| Right side window at the front of the chapel |
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| Looking at the entrance to the sanctuary and balcony from the front |
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| The right side of the front - a little choir seating area? |
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| Standing at the podium where David may have preached |
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| Jim and I were singing 'Morning has Broken' without the electric piano |
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| Looking down from the balcony |
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| Standing at the side of the chapel, looking down the hill toward the school |
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| Gravestones older than 1880 were un-readable but Harrises, Prices, Pughs and Evanses were represented |
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| Jim reading stones |
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| The cemetery wrapped around 3 sides of the chapel |
We actually made two trips to the chapel,...
First we found the chapel (hooray!) and explored the outside of the chapel and cemetery. We spent a lot of time checking the gravestones, but they were very hard to read. Next we hunted for the key to the chapel, without any success. We wondered if there were any records of the chapel and cemetery with someone near-by. So as we drove back down the hill, we decided to turn into the divided lane, and guess what! There was a home and a woman outside watering her plants. It turned out that she has been the keeper of the records and her daughter has just taken over the job. Her daughter was not there, but I was invited to get in touch with her by e-mail and ask for information around specific dates and names. Further, this woman said that people had been there within the last few months looking for Evanses. She wants to connect us. Then, she told us where to find the key to the chapel - about 3 inches from where we had looked!! It was a big, old, rusty, beautiful key. So we went back up the hill, unlocked the chapel and went in. The following is a website that gives a little of the history of Maesyrhelem chapel, and especially note the stories around Joseph Jones, the pastor who baptized David Evans.
Maesyrhelem (1805) an amazing story
Felindre (pronounced and sometimes spelled Velindre)
This little village has one pub which is only open in the evening, and about three houses, and is surrounded by farms. This is where, according to the records you put together Dad, David Evans and his second wife Mary Harris lived until they emigrated in 1846. There was a little chapel in this place as well, but I did not get a chance to stop and check the gravestones here. I wondered whether the little ones, his two children that did not survive, had been buried here. Maybe another trip???? (smile, again)
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| The sign for Felindre |
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| Standing at the Felindre sign |
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| Looking down the road to Llanbister |
We found the local secret way from LLanindrod Wells, where the chapel was, to Felindre - because when we stopped to look at the map, a farmer came over to help us. When it was mentioned that my family was from around here (even though it was 150 years ago!) He said, Ah, Yes - as if I was one of the neighbors! He remembered a farm called Foesy-Feen Farm; said that his grandfather used to talk about it. Then, of course, it was alright to tell us the shortcut to Felindre! Jim, wizard of maps, knew exactly the roads that the farmer was referring to! This ‘road’ led us right through the middle of one farmer’s barnyard!
We headed towards Felindre, and then meandered through the hills around the Llanbister area on our way to finding a place for lunch. It was time for tea! This is what an authentic welsh tea looks like!
We had our tea in a very intriguing building that housed a hardware/home effects/bakery/restaurant with the bathroom three floors up and in a hidden little nook around the corner and up two more stairs. I think it was a very old building by our Canadian count! although new in comparison to others in this little town that sat on the English/Welsh border. (At tea we talked about how the neighbors would respond if those down the hill in England were at war with those who were two blocks up the hill!) (I have a picture but can’t remember the name of the town!!)
So Dad, I was wondering when I would see ‘the picture’ that you described, and when I looked back as we were leaving the chapel I think I found it. It was at the bottom of the hill leading to the chapel. The road to the chapel has a sign, becomes a dirt lane that leads up a hill and divides off to the right. On the left there is a ditch in which a river runs. That is how I remember you describing it. The road to Maesyrhelem chapel. THE PICTURE!!
Onward.
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| The dirt lane divides part way up |
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| Bridge over the river leading to the chapel |
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| Sign on right side of bridge |
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| Another little creek between the divided laneway |
Onward.
We were ready to head out, and Moyra and Jim were game to find Abaty-CwmHir.
In the first paragraph of our records we have one sentence, which reads, ‘(David Evans) was born in Abaty-Cumhin, Parish of Abbey, Radnorshire, Wales’. I was assured however, and later saw that the correct spelling was Abaty Cwm-Hir, or Abbey Cwm-Hir.
Through our day I kept watching the landscape. Wales is so beautiful and it did remind me of Ontario in some places. High on the hills it was more barren, but in the valleys it was so green and the roads followed what had probably been a foot-path in days gone by, so they curved and meandered. It reminded me of some of the roads we travelled in May, Mom and Dad, on the other side of Elgin park, and on the way that you walked to school Mom - under the umbrella of trees and beside the streams and creeks.
Quite an amazing day,and still the evening to come! We arrived home around 4:30pm, and at 5:00 Elaine (remember ‘cousin Cathy’) James came to pick me up. It was so kind of her because she had just come from a day of spinning wool at a fair/festival. She had her spinning wheel in the back seat of her car!
In the morning before our grand trip, I had made an errand to the only wool shop that I found on my whole trip through Scotland and England included! Every ‘Woolen Mill’ that I found sold t-shirts from China! But Newtown was historically a center for wool, so my expectations were high to find some welsh wool to bring home for Emily! But even at the town’s wool shop - the wool was from Turkey.
So when I saw the spinning wheel, I asked Elaine if she ever sold her wool but she was shy to show me her stuff and said it was only a hobby. (As the evening went on, I thought that if we had more time together we would really have enjoyed talking crafts, for it seemed as if she could do anything she set her hand to!)
We drove across town to her husband’s Auntie Marjorie who was waiting for us with 6 binders of information that she had gone to London, England to acquire, over the years. She had census reports from 1851 onward, and as she read through them she had all sorts of anticdotal comments and stories about the people she named. However, it seemed after some investigation of my information, that there was no family connection to her family. She was disappointed, but together we still looked through the census reports and found the name Foesy-Feen farm on two of Llanbister reports - 20 acres belonging to the Jones family in 1851, and growing to 24 acres in the 1881 census, belonging to the Mills family. This would have been after David Evans auctioned off the farm in 1839, in preparation to emigrate. Marjorie could not remember where the farm was, but she re-called the story of going to the farm to pick up the barm for making bread. (pre-cursor to yeast).
When we arrived back at the Bed and Breakfast, I was tired and happy. Elaine and her husband had welcomed me; Aunt Marjorie had showed me a sincere hospitality; Moyra and Jim had offered me a hospitality and friendship that could not be re-paid. I could not have planned this; it was abundantly beyond all that I had hoped for.
The next morning after one more delicious breakfast of poached eggs on toast - I have never tasted such mushrooms as Jim cooked! - I hugged Jim and Moyra good-bye and walked to the station. I took the round-about way in order to check out the churches. Within only a few blocks, I counted at least 5 churches - all of them closed, even on a sunday. It made me sad. They were beautiful churches, but shut tight, making them feel towering and heavy, almost prideful to the breaking point.
The Newtown station was empty with only one train leaving within the hour - mine. So I sat and considered the goodness of God, and prayed for his blessing and peace to attend these dear ones who had blessed me so much here in Wales, and the dear ones - you - who were together in Uxbridge.
We are held together by the thread of Love Itself that weaves through our story and all stories, a thread from which we cannot be separated; through generations past and into the future, through what is known and what is yet unknown, no matter the distance, and always with welcome.
Dad, I hope you like the story and the pictures. Love you. Peace.
Mary Dickau
1-3 July 2011
1-3 July 2011
Laurence Evans – Committal Service by Rev. Laurence J Barber
Who shall separate us from the love of
Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or
danger or sword? As it is written: "For your sake we face death all day
long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered." No, in all these
things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced
that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor
the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all
creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ
Jesus our Lord. – Romans 8
On Resurrection
Morning — when the dead in Christ shall rise, we shall
be gathered again in a glorious reunion. We will then have new bodies that will
never be sick, grow weak, or give out. Never again know pain or suffering,
or parting sorrow. But, until that time, we shall deeply miss our dear
one, even as we continue to treasure & celebrate his memory, and thank
God that we knew him, that he was in our lives.
For
the young men and women gathered here . . . I ask you to consider his life, his faith, his Saviour.
This was a man of faith and conviction, outstandingly so. And this faith was
placed in God as He understood it through the Scriptures that he loved. I ask
you that you would consider his life and his ways, and invite you also to
give yourself to the Lord with the same kind of courage, faith and
conviction. I invite you that in your own unique life and
calling, you too will lovingly and faithfully serve the God to whom
Laurence Evans gave His life.
The
faith of our fathers and mothers is passed on generation after generation.
That is evident in the family gathered today. And even if you're an onlooker,
it's never too late for any of us to begin to create a godly
dynasty. Who knows what is in your physical and spiritual DNA because
of the lives of:
David
Evans and Mary Harris (of Wales)
Thomas
Evans ~ Isabella Hargraves
William
McGregor Evans ~ Lottie Blight
Wilfred
Laurier Evans ~ Gladys Margaret St. John
William
Laurence Evans – Olive Wilson
(and
we can go on from there for a generation or three . . .)
Despite,
even, being misunderstood or persecuted, or experiencing times of
suffering and loss, the fruits and rewards of Christian faith experienced
even now, stretch and last into eternity.
And
now, let us remember:
The Lord is my
shepherd, I shall not want,
He maketh me to lie
down in green pastures,
He leadeth me beside
the still waters; He restoreth my soul.
He leadeth me in
paths of righteousness for His Name’s sake;
Yea, though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me,
Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me;
Thou preparest a
table before me in the presence of mine enemies.
Thou anointest my
head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and
mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in
the house of the Lord, forever.
Inasmuch
as it has pleased the Lord to take from this life our dear brother, William Laurence Evans. . .
we therefore entrust
his soul to God Who gave it
& his body to the earth from which
it came,
—
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust —
in sure & certain hope of the
resurrection to eternal life,
through Jesus Christ
our Lord
who shall transform
our frail bodies
that it may be like
unto His glorious body,
according to the
mighty working,
whereby He is able to
subdue all things to Himself.
Let us Pray
Loving God, we
commend to you, our loved one
Give to us comfort & courage, as
we continue to feel the pain of parting — the sadness of this deep loss.
Grant peace, hope, and renewed faith
as we remain in the sure knowledge of Your presence.
For each family
member, friend loved-one we pray,
as together we draw
near to You in our sorrow.
We thank you for the
dear one whom we now surrender
into Your sure hands
& gentle embrace.
Teach us all to be ready, through faith in
Jesus,
for that summons Home that will one day come
us.
Keep and nurture us
all, in Your constant love and care.
And grant to us the forgiveness of our sins,
that we may be recipients evermore,
of the rich blessings given us - of Your mercy
& grace.
O Master, let us walk with Thee,
In lowly paths of service free;
Teach us Thy secret; help me bear
The strain of toil, the fret of care.
May we walk . . . In hope – that sends a shining ray
Far down the future’s broadening way,
In peace that only Thou canst give,
With Thee, O Master, Let us live.
And now, may the Lord bless you and keep you
May the Lord make His face to shine upon you
May the Lord lift up the Light of His countenance upon you,
And give you Hope – and Peace.
Amen.
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