~ Marie’s Story ~

At Senior Youth a few weeks ago, after studying the story of David & Goliath, a few people were invited in to share about their own personal giants and how God helped them stand up and fight.  Marie Bezeau was one of them.

Marie has worked in the church office for a number of years and you’ll know her for her quick smile, welcoming personality, and deep love of people.  She had to face a huge Goliath in 2013 when her health was threatened in a terrifying way.

The following is her story, copied directly from her own notes…

[Watch Marie on YouTube]

I am not a speaker nor have I had professional training to speak to you tonight, but what I do have is God’s prompting to share my adventure. I have been through a lot in my life and know that there is much more to come, but this situation specifically has reminded me of the many blessings that we receive from God through his children, like me and you.

It was December 6th, 2013 that I returned home after 2 ½ months of being away from my family and friends, so let’s start at the beginning…

The night of September 22nd was a typical evening, a regular get the kids settled and geared up for Monday morning school routine.  I had a knot in my right shoulder blade – which is not a normal occurrence for me but I had heard other people describe this so I took a couple of Advil and off to bed I went.

On the morning of September 23rd, I woke up to a dull pain in the same location as the night before; within 1 hour and 15 minutes the pain had intensified to an almost unbearable level. I had a shower – no luck. Sat in a straight back arm chair- no relief. And then I stood up to try and walk it off- that’s when I lost all feeling and mobility from my chest down, toppling into our coach. After a bit of debate, Cory, my husband, called 911 and minutes later the ambulance attendants arrived. After a few routine questions they decided I needed to go into the emerg department. I was gracefully (not really) taken out of my home and transported to the Hanover Hospital, where I was met with a fellow HMC doctor who happen to be on duty that morning.

I was rolled into a waiting room, where I stayed until the Dr and staff determined what the next step was. During that time I remember friends and co workers coming in and out to see how I was and what was going on. They all had concerned and scared faces, but also offered loving and caring words to Cory and I. The decision was made and I was then transported down to London’s Victoria Hospital. I went alone….

My husband went to talk to our 3 children who had went to school, so he went to make arrangements for them and get things for me as we both had no idea what was going to happen. He then left Hanover and made the trip down to the emerg room in London to join me in the waiting game there to see what their next steps for me would be. In our time in the emerg area – which ended up being a total of 12 hours – I went in for a cat scan, and then an MRI.  That was the test that proved what they needed to get the ball rolling.

The spinal surgeon had been reviewing the tests I had been taking since I had arrived and the MRI findings peaked his interest.  We were told by the intern that the MRI had shown a mass of sorts that concerned the surgeon enough that he would be going in for a closer look.  Yes, that meant surgery in the morning.

Just to be told there is a mass and oh by the way, you’re having surgery was not that comforting…but away we went to be admitted for the night and to await surgery the next morning. We headed to the 9th floor and were met by the welcoming nurse team of what seemed like 10 nurses ready to get me comfortable for the evening. Within minutes though of arriving in the room one nurse came in and said that I was needed right away in the OR. There was no waiting for the morning, the surgery was happening NOW.

This was a blessing for sure – a quick short turn around (although it was technically 3ish in the morning anyway so I guess that could have been considered the next morning).

I came through the surgery. They were able to remove a blood clot. I did need a couple of blood transfusions but all was well. I was back getting settled in my room by 10:30am that morning. My husband, pastor and friend were there awaiting my arrival, and was I glad to see them!

As I settled in and tried to get comfortable my nurse came in, who was high energy, smiling, full of happiness and hope, a male nurse with faith like a mustard seed, HUGE. He said “hi, do you believe in a faith?” I answered yes. “Do you believe in God?” he was quick to ask. I answered “yes” and that sealed the deal. He went on to assure me of God’s love and caring and that everything would be just fine! I was shocked and comforted at the same time, I didn’t think speaking so bluntly about faith was okay in a public hospital setting.  Well God proved me wrong didn’t he!?

 I saw many nurses come and go and he made an appearance a couple times but his fellow male co-worker, also a nurse that had me on his rounds, and well, I think you know what I am going to say… You’re right! His first question to me was, “do you have faith?” I chuckled and talked about my faith and his and my church and church family.  What a great conversation in the wee morning when they have to check on you and do their duties but filling my spiritual tank as well. God was consistent in reminding me that his children were all around me even though I was away from my home and everything familiar.

I was told and they explained that I had had a blood clot that had formed in the area around my right shoulder blade and had been pushing/squishing my spinal cord which cause the paralysis from my chest down. The surgeon explained that after much investigation there is no reason this happened to me, and his hope or phrase that he left me with was “lightening doesn’t strike the same place twice”.

So, moving forward they had workers come in and try to get me to move my legs and also get me to sit up with and without help. Not an easy accomplishment…I spent a week and a half with the staff at Victoria and was able to sit on the side of the bed with two people helping for a very short amount of time, as well as wiggle my right big toes sporadically. I received visits, cards, gifts, prayers and many calls from friends and family.

Then I was told, “you’re going back to your home hospital…” you see that normally would have been thrilling news but during my stay it was explained that because of my injury the best place for me to start my recovery was a facility right across the road, I mean literally across the road from Victoria. Emotions ran high as they told me that I not only was I heading home but I was going within the hour. God knew what I needed though…He had a plan…I just didn’t know it yet.

Off I went rolling out of the 9th floor and heading back to the Hanover Hospital on October 4th. I arrived into the Hanover emerg entrance late into the evening and was taken to the 2nd floor to get admitted and settled in. A familiar face greeted me as the nurse doing my information taking was the mother of my son’s schoolmate. Emotions still were on high alert, I was scared, confused, and angry.

As I tried to settle into a hospital that I was not convinced was the place I was supposed to be in, I was flooded with love, visits, spoiled with treats, I was serenaded, received physio off the clock, flowers, smiles, hugs, encouragement and I was even brought pumpkin pie. My family was being taken care of in ways that were overwhelming at times. This was a time of thankfulness beyond understanding for Cory and I.  It was so difficult for us to accept the outpouring of love, financially and with words and cards. What I realized as I pouted, and complained is that God knew what I needed, and I was focused on what I wanted. He won. He brought all of these blessings to my family and especially me, as He knew that my love tank needed to overflow before my next part of my recovery journey.

October 21st marked an early but exciting morning for me. This was the morning I was finally heading to London and was going to be admitted to the spinal cord rehab centre at Parkwood. So, as I rolled out of the Hanover Hospital, I said goodbye to a second set of nurses that play a large part in my recovery up to that point. I left being able to sit up at the side of the bed unassisted for a couple of minutes, able to raise my leg for seconds, wiggle my legs and softly stomp my foot.

I was once again met with a nurse that was to become my primary nurse and she was a woman of faith that would be present throughout my stay and encouraging daily. Being in a hospital setting was not something that I had experienced until this, so roommates scared me a little. I had had a couple in Hanover and I had survived but the princess in me was hoping for a private room to myself…no such luck. Now, my roommate was still to arrive a few days after I had settled in but I prayed daily that God would help me through and bring the right person to continue on my recovery with. I shared my concerns as the nurses and I were getting to know each other, and they reassured me that I had nothing to worry about, my roommate was an absolutely wonderful person, and an amazing lady. Her name was PENNY.

She arrived in rough shape but as a few days went by I realized that the reason I had to be in Hanover so long, put on the waiting list for Parkwood was to be placed in the right order to have Penny as my roommate. What a plan the Lord had, and if I would have had my way I would have had a completely different situation.

Now back to Penny, what an inspirational person! She lived up to every comment the nurses and staff spoke about her. She was a person who has been in her wheelchair for 50 years and counting, and had helped out on the very floor of Parkwood that we were living on, in a supportive role to those residents who were in the rehab program. Do you know what that meant…I had my very own support person 24-7. Her wisdom was beyond my understanding about my situation and all the things that come with it medically and mentally. Her family embraced me whenever they were there to visit – they sat and chatted with me just like I was one of them. What a blessing!

She let me know the day I was leaving that I brought a few things to her as well: my visible faith, the love and caring of my church family and a caring for her and her family. I was able to talk through her faith, which was very minimal because of her past…she loved hearing about my church family back in Hanover, and the care that was being extended to Cory and the kids.

As my recovery progressed, I was consistently called and encouraged or sent cards and emails to keep that strength up and the motivation to keep pushing through.

My stay at Parkwood was as comfortable as could be expected. I mean I was still in a hospital and being asked about things that I wouldn’t have conversations about normally but how that changes when you are in that arena for 6 weeks removed from the world. I had two appointments every day which before I got there I thought, no no I need more, I want to get moving and fast, well…the body doesn’t quite work that way and learning to walk again, stand again, even lift yourself up from laying to sitting is HARD.  I did have consistent thoughts of babies and how we are so quick to encourage them to sit up and stand without being able to remember just how much energy that takes. One word: exhausting!

My day to day routine was filled with the work of exercise – oh, side note: we chose to call any exercise, “activities” cause I was more apt to want to do them and bless their hearts they did change the word just for me! Oh I was a complainer! Good gracious! But they still loved and cared for me anyway.

As my time neared the end of my 6 week stay at Parkwood I was told that my house would need a few things to make it a safe transition for me to be able to return home. I had a weekend leave, which allowed me to returned home to Hanover and Penny was able to lend her portable ramps so that I could get into my home. But the realization was a few weeks later when I was to be released I was not going to have those portable ramps…what were we going to do?…We prayed…and the blessing of a few great men showed up on a rainy December day and constructed a full functioning, legally angled entrance way and ramp that would allow me to comfortably enter my home without worry. A blessing? You bet! It is still there today as a reminder of not only how far I have come and what I have been through but the generosity of God’s people once again.

There were many milestones that I had as I moved forward in my adventure there, the most important as I look back was my very first step. There was a trial run step that was pretty disastrous, meaning my brain said walk and my leg said “nope”. On November 27th I stood up in the parallel bars and with someone in front of me I held on tight and took a very memorable first step that led to many many more. I had a realistic goal for my stay at Parkwood, which was to stand and walk with a walker, I didn’t quite walk out of Parkwood with a walker but the few days before I left I was lapping the physio gym with one.

When I returned home December 6th I entered the house on that wonderfully built ramp, and was met by Cory and the kids who were smiling ear to ear, my wonderful friend Cindy, and my mom who had flown up from Nova Scotia to help out the family my first week home.

My progress continued to move forward and I set another goal for myself once I was settled in and decided that by spring I was going to walk out of my house as unassisted as possible. Well that beautiful spring day came and I did exactly that!

This has been my adventure, there are many other adventures off the main story, but, that is for another time. My hope is as I stand in front of you that God will stir and remind you of the many blessings you have personally received and even those that you yourself have given to others. If it weren’t for God’s children listening to the promptings of God throughout my adventure it would have been so much harder to get through.


Special thanks to Marie for allowing us to share her incredible story!

Honoring our Children

…Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me,
and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these… 
                                                       Luke 18:16

One of my fondest memories of growing up in the Hanover Missionary Church was the moment in any service when the children were called forward.  My friend Megan and I would race to the platform, determined to be ahead of the pack so we could each hold Pastor Chris’ hand as we joined in a circle and were prayed for before going downstairs to our program.  On extra special weeks we would gather at the base of the stage stairs, our mothers waving their arms to remind us to keep our dresses pulled down over our knees as we sat on the carpet, listening raptly while Linus told us another one of his timeless bird stories.

These memories may seem trite; but as simple as they are, these moments were very powerful.  They instilled in me, as a child, that this was my church – that I was as much an important part of it as any adult that sat in the pews and it made a huge impact on the way I view Hanover Missionary Church and my role in it today.

Now I am raising my own children here and I know they already feel a deep sense of ownership over this place.  They are at home within these walls.  They know they are free to ask questions, dig deeper, and be real.  I am proud to be part of a congregation that has always honored children and it makes my heart swell when I see them invited into a Sunday service.

It was a complete joy on Easter Sunday when Pastor Amos called the children forward and read them a story he had written.  I was flooded with memories of sitting there myself and as I looked out across the congregation and saw smiles beaming from the faces of all those adults, I knew I wasn’t the only one who believes our children deserve our very best.

This will not just be their Church someday.  It is their Church right now and it’s important that we never forget that.

Alanna Rusnak shares her life with her husband, three children, and a cat she’s trying hard not to love.  She has attended HMC for her entire life and been on staff since 2003, currently fulfilling the role of Creative Communications.  You can find her over at her own blog, SelfBinding Retrospect.

The Visioning Process

by contributing writer, Kristina Dyck

On Sunday morning Jason talked about vision, about our core values and about the things we still need to figure out while we go through this visioning process. One of the next steps, he said, is figuring out who we are, what makes HMC unique. I have blogged about this a bit in the past on my own blog, but this got me thinking again about the beauty of our small piece of the body and I wanted to share it with you.

I am still a newer part of this church. I don’t really consider myself to be new anymore but compared to a lot of you I am. I have been part of this church for almost four years. Before that I was a part of or a long-term visitor at about nine other churches (over my lifetime and mostly due to moving great distances) and there is something beautifully unique about HMC that I haven’t seen at other churches.

HMC is a mix of many different theologies, many different backgrounds, many different preferences but we all fellowship together and worship together because we all worship the same God and we all want to serve Him. Some of us come from Baptist backgrounds, some from Brethren, some from Pentecostal, some from Catholic, Salvation Army, Charismatic, Non Denomination, Methodist, Mennonite and I am sure I am missing a lot.

We all have different backgrounds, different views but we agree on the really important stuff. We all love the same Jesus. We are all saved by grace through faith in Him – not by anything we have done or could do – and we all look forward to being with Him in Heaven; and so we worship our God together.

It is a beautiful thing. It is something that I so greatly appreciate about HMC and I think it is what makes us unique and very special.

I am so interested to hear what others see in us that is unique and where this visioning process will take us as we reevaluate ourselves and prepare for the next step of serving our awesome God together.

Kristina Dyck currently lives in Durham with her family. She is a missionary kid who married another missionary kid and wants to serve the Lord wherever He leads which is in Grey Bruce right now.  She has been an active part of HMC for 3 years. She is a photographer, birth doula, and art enthusiast. You can find her over on her own blog, Unashamed Grace

Incest & Murder: the unraveling of a family (yikes!) – 2 Samuel 13-14

by contributing writer Kristen Webb

The sermon on Sunday was about King David’s messed up family.  (You can watch a YouTube video of the sermon here.)  It reads like a soup opera or a talk show –  so much drama and so much sin.  I have found that sin always leads to drama one way or another!  It may strike a chord with the world, but is it relevant to us church going folks?  Incest or any form of sexual abuse is something we would hope God would protect us from, especially in our Christian circles.  But my heart can’t help hurting for Tamar who experienced such horrible things because of her brothers sin.    Despite my church going status, God has brought  many people into my life who have experienced the damage of being wronged in this way.  It appears that being a Christian does not grant you immunity from being harmed by others who choose to do the unthinkable.   I have to be honest: this has torn my heart apart and caused me to doubt God’s goodness and faithfulness.

What is God doing about this heinous problem – where is He?

This year my doubt met it’s match when I took The Wounded Heart program.  The Wounded Heart is offered by our church for victims of childhood sexual abuse.  I had felt that God was prompting me to take it for a number of years now.  However, my abuse was pretty minor compared to what Tamar and many of my friends had endured and was not inflicted by a family member, so I did not think the abuse was effecting me.  But God still kept whispering whenever I would hear it promoted.  Finally, this year I signed up for The Wounded Heart and I went.  It has been the most life-changing thing ever!  My doubt and pain has been met head-on by the Creator of the Universe and the lover of my messed up soul.

Before I took The Wounded Heart, I was single-handedly trying to wrangle all the crazy emotions that are a natural result of being wronged in such a deep way.  I felt overwhelmed and condemned for having such strong and dark feelings and, because I was ashamed, I buried them.

Now if you asked me about how I was coping, I would proudly tell you how I was learning to live above my feelings. I would probably even offer to teach you how to do it too.  But really it was just a way of saying I was in denial.

Denial is not healthy and oh how I know that now!  The fall-out of 30 odd years of denial was far worse than the damage done by the initial abuse.  If only  I had immediately brought my pain and brokenness to God and trusted Him with it instead of trying to pretend it did not bother me and I was fine!  But I listened to Satan when he whispered in my ear that I was weak for feeling such emotions and God wanted me to buck up and just get over it.  I felt like I was an object of condemnation and I did not deserve to be blessed or happy anymore.  I was mad at myself for feeling and so I tried to teach myself how to ignore my feelings.  Emotions were seen as invalid or maybe even sinful.

God was longing to wrap me in His arms and comfort me as only He can but I couldn’t go to Him because I thought I needed to fix this myself.   So as the years went by my doubt and frustration with God grew – although I did not admit this to anyone.  I was desperately trying to fix this hurt deep in my soul and the method I picked was trying to be a good Christian girl.  I decided that if I could just be perfect maybe whatever was wrong with me would go away.   If I could just please everyone in my life maybe then the depression and despair I lived with on a daily basis would finally disappear. You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to see this was not a great solution.  But I was so messed up inside at this point that I was not seeing things clearly.   God wanted to comfort me and bring healing but the lies I was believing prevented me from  trusting Him and giving Him control.  I was shooting myself in the foot over and over but blaming God for my pain.

But then I finally listened to His gentle voice and took the Wounded Heart.  Through it I realized that it is not that God was not strong enough to heal me – I was preventing Him from doing so.   Through this group I was able to uncover some of the lies that had got me to such a horrible place.  I was able to see that God loves me and is not disappointed in me.   He was feeling compassion and fierce love for me when I was abused – not expecting me to forgive instantly and stop being so emotional about it all.  He wanted to hold me in His arms and soothe me and fill the hole that had been ripped in my soul.  I have value and I am a cherished child of the King.  He wants to bless me and I don’t have to endlessly make up for my deficiencies.  He accepts me now despite all the sin I ended up getting into by not trusting Him.  I do not have to be perfect before I can rest in Him and rejoice.   My healing process has started and I have hope that was completely missing from my life before.  

I am now halfway through the Wounded Heart program and am looking forward to all the awesome things God is still going to do.   I can trust God to continue my healing as my brain gets a complete overhaul.  My mind needs to be renewed in a big way but I have a big God.  I have a faithful, good God who loves me and that changes everything!

I don’t know how to express my Thanks to all the leaders of Wounded Heart so I will just ask God to personally bless them in one of the many creative ways at His disposal.

 Kristen Webb boards horses in the country with her husband and three daughters – one of whom has special needs. She has been part of the HMC congregation for almost eighteen years.   You can find her over at her own blog, My Wild Ride Through The Door Of Faith

An Easter Story

by contributing writer, Kristina Dyck

An Easter Story by Kristina Dyck

A roosters crow pierced the darkness and she woke with a start. Another restless night spent tossing and turning. When she had finally fallen asleep the dreams were heartbreaking. The rooster crowed again and it all came back to her. It wasn’t a dream. He was gone. Her friend, her messiah, beaten, crucified, killed.

She slowly pushed back the blankets and the cold air hit her, it was still dark. Would it ever be light again?

They had taken down his body and put him in a tomb, but no one had really cared for him yet. Passover had been long and agonizing, full of grieving and helplessness as she and her close friends waited for the hour they could at last go to him and care for his body. It wasn’t much but after all he had done for her brother, her family – she had to do something.

She pulled together the oils and spices and slipped out in to the twilight where her friends were waiting. No on spoke on the walk to the garden, the path was winding and narrow, the only sound was their muffled steps on the damp ground.

The first rays of colour were just peaking the horizon when she saw it up ahead. The tomb was beautiful. Joseph had surprised them all by giving up his own tomb for Jesus; none of them could have paid for anything like it.

She glanced up at the beginnings of a beautiful sunrise but felt only numbness. How would they push away the stone? Why had they not thought of this before? She should have asked Peter or Thomas to come with them but in her grief it hadn’t even crossed her mind. She should go back but she couldn’t stop her feet moving forward.

Salome stopped so suddenly in front of her that she nearly walked right into her. What was wrong? Then she saw it. The stone had already been rolled away. How? She hardly had time to consider as she rushed forward and inside, and then her heart stopped. Her body heaved. She fell to the ground and began weeping more deeply than she ever had. Why? After all they had already done to him, why this? Her friends were crying too but were desperately searching the cave.

She heard her friend’s voice saying, “maybe there is another cavern, maybe we have the wrong tomb.” The grave clothes were right there. This was the right tomb; his body was gone.

All the sorrow and helplessness of the past week crashed down on her. She couldn’t bear another moment; she stood to leave and began to run. She didn’t know where, just away.
Suddenly right in her path, a man. The gardener. She stumbled and tripped to keep from crashing into him.

“Woman, why are you crying?”

She could hardly see through her swollen, tear filled eyes. Her words came out in a desperate shriek.

“Was it you”? “Someone took him and I don’t know where his body is. Please tell me where he is so I can care for him!” Her whole body was shaking now as she sobbed.

“Mary”

That voice. She knew that voice, the sobbing turned to laughing. “Rabboni! Teacher!” She was on her feet now hugging him, still weeping but now they were tears of joy.

“Mary. Go tell my brothers.”

Reluctantly she let go of him. She ran to the disciples as fast as her feet would carry her.

The colours in the sky were now at their most brilliant, had there ever been a more beautiful sunrise? Her tears dried in the breeze but her smile could not stop. He is not dead! He is alive! He is alive!

Kristina Dyck currently lives in Durham with her family. She is a missionary kid who married another missionary kid and wants to serve the Lord wherever He leads which is in Grey Bruce right now.  She has been an active part of HMC for 3 years. She is a photographer, birth doula, and art enthusiast. You can find her over on her own blog, Unashamed Grace