Testimony, Part 2 - 1974

Hwy 730, Wallula Gap

As I said in Part 1, the summer of 1974 represented a major shift in the direction my life was heading. My mother was, by then, in her early 50s and my sisters were grown up, moved out of state and starting families of their own. While Mom and I  were visiting my aunt on a very warm day in June, Mom began to feel ill. It turned out she was having a heart attack and would be out of commission for some time. The decision was made to send me to Oregon to stay with my sister for the remainder of the summer.

My sister and brother in law were renting a house just outside of Pendleton. It was an older house with a huge front yard and hills in the back for me to explore. There were railroad tracks nearby with trains rolling by a couple times every day. Whenever I heard a train coming, I'd run out to wave at the engineer in the locomotive and the conductor in the caboose. 

My brother in law drove a chip truck and he frequently took me along with him on his runs. We would drive over a mountain pass to a lumber mill, pick up a load of chips and haul them to a paper mill in Washington. The road to the paper mill passed through the Wallula Gap which is situated on the Oregon/Washington border along the Columbia River. Towering basalt cliffs carved by  eons of erosion created majestic spires and columns that still inspire awe in me to this day.

About halfway through the summer, my mother, who had been recuperating, suffered a set back. It was decided that my move to Oregon should be permanent. The news didn't bother me at first because homesickness hadn't settled in yet.

Almost every Sunday, we went to church but despite our involvement in church, conflict ruled at home. Of course, when youth camp came up, I was interested in going and getting away from the fighting and bickering. Fortunately, there was a spot available for me so I rode with the pastor and his family up to the camp. The spirit of the Lord was definitely there, especially during the evening meetings. By this time, I was understanding sin a little better; I knew I needed to stop sinning. I remember hearing how Jesus took the punishment for my sin and He would give me strength to live the way I should. During one of the final nights of camp, I went forward at the invitation and a counselor shared how I could receive Christ as my savior. All I had to do was pray with him. I was still confused about what all of this meant but I knew I needed to do something about my sin. While we were praying, my desire not to go back home welled up and I became very emotional. Perhaps taking care of my sins that night might make things better once I got back, or so was my reasoning. After camp, little changed, except the conflict at home got worse. 

I started the fifth grade in September, but with the increasing conflict at home and homesickness for California settling in, focusing on my studies became nearly impossible. In October, my sister made the decision to leave her husband. She moved my nephew and I out of that house in the country and into what could only be described as Pendleton's version of "the projects".