Memories of Opa/Father/Martin

I like to think I inherited my ability to solve problems and critically think from you Opa. I ALWAYS was excited to see what puzzle you were working on, and sometimes you would send me home with one that you had already finished so I could work on it. But you always encouraged me to pass it onto someone else after I was done with it. To this day one of my favourite things is to settle down with my evening tea and a puzzle. Thank you for teaching us how to be still.

I can't pinpoint an exact story around this one, Opa, but I have always been absolutely charmed by your wink that typically follows or is followed by special, mischievous twinkle in your eye and an all-knowing smile dancing on your lips. I love those moments.

While in my first year at Calvin College ('09), I came with a group to Stratford for the Shakespeare Festival. I remember you picking me up after the first play we saw and having dinner at your house. You and Oma had just spent the whole day making applesauce and the freezer was completely full of it! I got to have some for supper and it was delicious! I remember you telling me the story of how you and Oma met after dinner, with the occasional correction from Oma. It was a delightful visit and I so thoroughly enjoyed your stories.

I remember at my Dad's funeral, how there was a mix-up with the seating and was seated between you (Opa) and my Grandpa Oegema instead of in the front row with the other immediate family members. And I remember when we were singing hymns and I would just stop and listen to the both of you, with your Dutch accents, and voices that I've always associated with authority, and there was so much pain in that moment, and yet incredible joy at the promise of heaven, and at that moment my Christian heritage was so clear to me. It gave me strength and hope, and I will always remember that moment for the rest of my life and be thankful for it. So thanks Opa, thanks for your big part in my Christian heritage, and the ways you've directly and indirectly impacted my life in such incredible ways.

Opa always presents well. He's well dressed, well-mannered and respectable, stands tall and has a strong presence.

I remember being scared of Opa's hugs or handshakes when I was very young because he was so strong and would squeeze hard.

I remember camping with you, Tante Riet and Tine at the White Mountains in New Hampshire. I had just gotten my license, so I was allowed to do a lot of the driving. One evening, Tante Riet and Tine and I went to a drive-in movie and you stayed behind at the campsite. We ended up watching a few movies and it got very late. Back at the campsite, you were really worried and upset with us.

I remember watching you thoroughly enjoying Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In. Sometimes you laughed till you cried. I also remember that on the evenings when you taught catechism (until almost 10:00), we had to watch "the crime' of "Mannix" very carefully so that we could tell you what the crime was during the first commercial when you got home. You always 'unwound' from catechism by watching that show.

I remember how Mother would sit on your lap while you watched the news after supper and run her fingers through your hair. We always thought that was so sweet.

I remember when you would let Jeff and I watch Adam 12 at your house in Quebec City. I can still feel/smell the carpet on the floor there. So cozy!

I remember Opas ferocious hugs.

I remember Opa using a knife and fork to eat sandwiches.

Your hugs. I remember being excited and terrified by them all at the same time. The kind of hug that took you and crushed the breath out of you and yet made you feel so completely loved and appreciated--always a thrill, a and a fond memory.

I remember how you were totally silent on the other end of the phone when I told you that our son's name was Martinus Dominicus.

Milena and I remember our visit to you and Oma when we came to Ontario from BC for our first anniversary. Being able to introduce Milena to the two of you, and hear you both tell your stories of how you met and fell in love, and to see the excitement in your eyes and hear it in your voices as you shared, was a true blessing for us, and a rare treat, since we live across the country.

When I was going to Ottawa U, John and I started dating, and then after about 9 months' time we broke up. I remember you calling me just to make sure I was okay. It was not expected, and was very sweet. Loved you for your concern.

I will never forget a sermon delivered in Montreal on the verse "all around the throne there was a rainbow". The image and the significance has stuck with me all these years.

Dear Opa: I remember a sermon you gave many years ago at a family reunion at Hidden Acres about Revelation 4. You used props like table and chairs and glass cups, and even had us as grandchildren participate. Thanks for for this beautiful reminder of the wonder and awe for the One on the throne.

Any time (every time!) we sing Great is Thy Faithfulness. Maybe more a family thing in general, but much of that has to do with the legacy of Oma and Opa.

Opa's hugs. These are in a category all their own. So strong, yet entirely gentle. Living far away from family has never been easy, but this made Opa's hugs that much more special and profound. As I write this, I'm legitimately tempted to get on a plane just so I can have an Opa hug.

When we, as a family, camped our way across Canada when we left Alberta for St Catharines in *64?", each night we would pitch camp, double tie the tent poles and dig trenches around the tent base with run off channels to divert the impending deluge, should it come, from running under the tent. It was like a military encampment. By 8AM in the morning the Travel-all and U-haul was packed and the family was rolling, out of the campground past all the 'Canadians' still snoozing or slouching at their picnic tables in pajamas. We were cool, they were just Canadians with no sense of discipline...

I remember once helping you to set up the camper trailer we owned in Montreal, to pack for a trip. That camper trailer had support bars that unfolded, rather than cranking into place. The important thing was not to get a finger caught in the main joint when the support posts were straightened. But, I somehow missed that memo and got a finger caught. As a parent, I now understand the simultaneous frustration, anger, empathy, and concern that you showed all at once.

Recall frequently watching Saturday morning cartoons together. You loved Bugs Bunny and you'd often laugh so very hard. I found this extremely amusing and so refreshing. Clearly you were catching jokes and nuances intended for adults. Nonetheless, it was So fun and, in a strange way affirming, to have you join us.

I'd just completed the first two weeks at my new job, arrived home around tea time, and decided to tell you all about my first paycheck. After I mentioned it, you immediately asked me, "How much will you give to the church?" You didn't say "Congratulations" or anything fun. I was furious, though I didn't say anything. This was my first paycheck! Some $600! And I was so excited for it and yet you wouldn't celebrate (seemingly) with me. Instead, you wanted to know how much I'd be giving back. But, you know what? In hindsight this was such a gift. You taught me instantly that it wasn't about me. Instead, you made the point that everything I had belonged to God. And this lesson has served me well in life. Thank you for having the courage to lead and guide in this way.

I'll always remember sitting in church with Mother, but I also remember that on occasion, very infrequently, you'd sit with us, and it always seemed so different and so unreal.

I remember in Quebec City that you always complained about the bass beat coming from my bedroom speakers. But, at the same time, you were always willing to sit and listen with your headphones to any music that I played for you. You'd always listen to a song and then comment on it. Most of the time you'd say that you liked the music, but didn't understand what they were talking about. Ah, the 80's!!

I remember Opa being in an animated conversation about politics, religion, etc., and suddenly the phone beside his chair would ring (in his John St. house). Opa would suddenly lean back, and his voice would get very quiet and low as he'd say one word as a greeting: "Geleijnse".

Opa, one milestone memory we often recall is your opening prayer before our wedding reception. To us it officially represents your Christian leadership in the Geleynse family. You and Oma have helped direct the extended family to grow on a solid foundation of faith in Jesus. This legacy has left a lasting impression on us as new parents and is something we hope to pass on to our grandchildren. Opa, for this gift we are very grateful.

Winsum: The first thing that comes to mind is, "A,B,C van de Dominee" (Ali, Bart en Carel van de dominee.) Not sure who said this, but that's how we were referred to. I remember watching Father go out of our house the parsonage, past the janitor's house next door (the former parsonage) to the church next to it, and we would watch and wave goodbye as he went.

In Roermond, Father's office, or study as we called it, was in the house. It was mostly out of bounds for us kids, unless we needed something like office supplies that were stored in there. Father always had a flat little box of little throat lozenges on the pencil tray on his desk. I always snuck at least one each time I was in there.

I loved paper and I loved books, so Father's office was very attractive to me. I would sit in his desk chair and just soak in the atmosphere. One day discovered some sex education books in the very bottom corner of his bookshelves. And so I'd secretly read them. The only title can remember is "Suzie's Babies".

The parsonage in Roermond came with a mo-ped for Father to use for his work like visiting members of the congregation and going to meetings. I loved getting rides on the back of his motorcycle, but that didn't happen very often!

Father felt called to go to Canada, as many Dutch pastors did, when the flow of immigration started after the Second World War. They were called over to give leadership to the churches of recent immigrants who came over in the late I fifties. I believe Father was close to the last one in that wave to come over from Holland.

In Medicine Hat, Alberta, Father needed a car for his work because of the long distances. His very first car ever was a green and yellow Studebaker! Wow! We were all so excited to pile in and get our first ride around the block!

I remember Father got involved in the PTA at our local public school in Medicine Hat, and in the Ministerial Association.

We arrived in Canada in early August of 1960. We six kids (aged 9 months 9 years) did not speak any English. Mother was able to speak enough English to manage, and Father was able to preach in English right away. In Canada we had a teenaged girl living in with us to help my mom in the household and she spoke only English. We started school in September and by around Christmas time Father insisted that we all speak English so that Mother would learn and not be left out.

At first (in Medicine Hat) Father did all the grocery shopping. That seemed so odd to us because that was always Mother's role in Holland. We loved the fact that Father often picked up some special foods and goodies that Mother's practical nature would never allow herself to spend money on.

In August of 1960 we arrived in Medicine Hat. The church was right next to our house. It was brand new, just like the parsonage. The basement was already completed when we arrived there. The future sanctuary on the main floor was just roughed in and could not be used yet. After many months and many shifts of volunteers, including Father, they finished the main floor and so we had a "real church". Once that was done, Father moved his office out of our house into the church. Somewhere along the way my dad bought a black toga for preaching. He and Mother were pretty impressed with that!

Medicine Hat: Father loves to travel and explore. On Sunday afternoons he often took us for drives to explore the town and surroundings and to check out things he read about in the paper. Sometimes, when he was visiting a church member on a farm, some of us older kids would be allowed to come along for the drive and to see the farm animals. When Father was preaching in a neighbouring congregation, one or two of us older ones would get to come along to keep him company on the drive. Father liked to be involved in the community. If there was a parade for one reason or another, he took us to see the parade. We also camped our way to BC, we camped on our move from Medicine Hat AB to St. Catharines, ON, and we took a camping trip out east.

In St. Catharines Father had a month off every year, SO in the summers when we weren't travelling, we usually camped at Pinery Park for a month. Often Mother would take the older kids to the beach while Father stayed reading at the campsite with the younger ones who were napping.

Father and I often had long discussions late into the evening in St. Catharines, after Mother had already gone to bed, and far past my bedtime. I treasured these times with my dad. My emotions were up and down, especially during my teenage years and Father always had time to listen and help me sort out my confused thoughts. I will always treasure this time together. The fact that Father gave me all this time and attention is amazing, given that there were seven more kids in the family at that time. Here in St. Catharines I became more aware of Father's role as pastor of a congregation, a teacher of catechism, chair of committees, and also in my life as my dad. As much as I loved my Mother, didn't often identify with my mother's role in the family, but I definitely identified with my dad.

In 1974 I left home to attend Calvin College. Father was very proud of that. I think it was the very next year that he resigned from his position as pastor in St. Catharines, moved the family to Grand Rapids, and started getting his Master's degree at Calvin Seminary. He got a part-time job in an office at the seminary, which later turned into a full-time position. This made it possible for me to pop over from the dorms or classes to visit him at his office on campus. After this he accepted a call to Montreal and later my parents moved to Quebec City. That's where I had the least contact with him, also because by then I was married and we had two little kids, so we didn't have the opportunity to see each other as much.

Father's call to the Stratford CRC brought him back into southern Ontario where much of the family was living. Our visits became more regular. And since my cancer recently flared up again, he has started phoning me every evening, just to say "Hi, how was your day?" A wonderful connection!

When I think of Father I think of books. Always reading, sitting in his big chair in the living room with a pile of sometimes ten different books all with book-markers in them at various stages of being read. Books, books. He taught me to love reading.

When I think of Father I think of faithfulness. Father loved Mother, of that I had no doubt ever. saw that in so many little ways that I never connected at the time, but thinking back on the years it was obvious.

When I think of Father I think of faithfulness. Father loved God the Father. I never had a doubt. Father taught me about God, mealtimes, family conversation, church, catechism. I learned about God the Father through Father. Thank you, Father. Father's only comfort in life and in death was and remains in his faithful Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. I remember one family reunion at Camp Kee-mon-oy-a when Father shared on a Sunday morning that he had discovered that we can sing passionate love songs to Jesus. David had taught him this as he had been reading through the Psalms.

I remember watching Father mowing the lawn in sandals and shorts.

I remember Father helping us burn the leaves in the front ditch in St. Catharines.

I remember Father sitting on the beach at Pinery Provincial Park under an umbrella, reading Calvinist Contact and the Banner.

I remember playing chess with Father and enjoying the first time that I beat him.

I remember supper was a blitz: start at 5:30 sharp, eat fast, neatly and quietly, so that we could read the Bible and pray all before sitting down for the evening news at 6:00pm on CBS, NBC, ABC consecutively. To borrow a phrase from Walter Cronkite, "That's the way it is. Good night."

I remember watching Hockey Night in Canada, Hawaii five-O, Adam 12, Emergency, Lawrence Welk, Johnny Cash, Bobby Goldsboro, Flip Wilson, Mod Squad.

I remember Father always stirred his tea or coffee ending it with a ceremonial tap-tap of his spoon on the edge of the cup.

I remember Father eating soup or porridge that was still boiling in his bowl and saying it was fine to eat, even though his own face was contorted because of the heat.

I remember it was Father who taught me to love Sambal Manis and Sambal Oelek.

I vividly remember watching Father walk into church with the elders in St. Catharines.

I remember Father's bone crushing hugs and handshakes.

I remember most vividly, like it was yesterday, the first time you said "I Love You" to me and it registered in my heart.

I remember you listening to all kinds of classical music and learning to appreciate it as well.

I remember going to your study after report card day. Enough said.

I remember you putting on "gospel" music on Sundays: Mahalia Jackson, George Beverly Shea and others.

I remember once when you visited us in Grand Rapids and our choir at Madison Square was doing a concert to record an album. You came and I saw you worship like never before. Arms raised, tears in your eyes, kneeling. It was awesome to watch.

Father, you taught me to read and study.

You taught me who my heavenly Father is. Who his Son is. I thank you.

I remember the first time I realized that Opa had a sense of humour. I think it was my first year of university and I was home for the weekend and Opa and Oma were over for lunch. Opa made some sort of strong blanket statement and I was about to take the bait and fire back with some clever I reply, when I saw the twinkle in his eye and realized that he was playing the crowd to see who he could get a reaction from.

To pick out one memory of Opa would be like trying to pick a favourite flower out of Oma's garden; all are just as memorable as the others and all play a part in painting a full picture. There are a few smaller yet significant memories of Opa, one being his traditional phone greeting; no one answers the phone quite like Opa, and it makes me smile just thinking about hearing his voice on the other end, strong and assertive, and sometimes a little intimidating, but always Opa.

Undoubtedly one of the most common memories I am sure everyone of us grandchildren share is the fact that no one hugs quite like Opa. This was particularly special for those of us who had glasses, but always a highlight of my trips to Opa and Oma's house. There was always something reassuring about Opa's hugs, something unwavering and unshifting.

One of the memories that is probably my favourite is from our 2010 family reunion, the last one I was able to make it out to. I remember walking around the main building reminiscing to myself about old times, and when I came around the corner Opa and Oma were sitting together on a picnic table beside each other just observing their family in silence. It was a breathtaking moment that will forever be etched into my memory. There was something so beautiful, calming, and perfect about that moment. Opa has always been, in my mind, an image of strength, authority, and assurance, and in that moment I saw those things, yes, but above all things I I saw incredible unwavering love: I saw his love for Oma, I saw his love for his children and grandchildren, but most of all I saw evidence of his deep faith in God, looking at all his children and grandchildren and seeing their faith was evidence of a firm foundation. I am so blessed time I I and time again when I think of that moment, and all the moments Opa has spoken into my life. am blessed to have a grandfather who is such a solid example of strength, and love. Opa, I cannot thank you enough for your strength, your faith, and above all your love, your love for your family, your love for God's family, and above all your deep love of God. It is a true blessing to have such a solid foundation to start from and an amazing example to look to. Thank you.

Opa, I remember how strong you felt when I was a kid. Getting a hug from you meant a bear crushing squeeze.

Opa, I remember one time when you were preaching in Clinton, the singing of a particular hymn was especially lackluster. The song finished and you expounded on the meaning of the song, and challenged the congregation to mean what they were singing. We then sang the hymn again, to great effect.

I remember one family reunion at our old place when everyone would camp... the rooster was being really loud way too early in the morning and Opa was up and chasing him around the yard trying to shut him up!

I remember Opa giving very big very tight very strong hugs to us as kids at family reunions and always marveling with thankfulness at how great the [his humongous] family was! Opa was always there giving constructive advice and validating the talents he saw in his grandkids.

I remember how hard it was for you to sing "By the Sea of Crystal" at Mother's graveside, yet your hand was raised in praise to God.

I remember how you and Mother came to visit us in PEI for New Year's of 1993. We were struggling with a call Carel had to Trinity CRC in St. Catharines, so you and Mother told us to go out for dinner and have a good talk together while you looked after our kids. You understood the whole concept of deciding on a call.

I remember how in the summer of 1993 you and Mother offered to come and look after our kids for a few (6!) days so that we could get away with the two of us, because you could tell that we missed PEI and were struggling with that. We appreciated your sensitivity so much.

I remember that you baptized Alexa in PEI on the evening of Easter Sunday, March 31, 1991, your 66th birthday. You knew, but did not tell us, that three of my friends (Hazel, Janet and Linda) were going to sing "Because He Lives" in the service to celebrate Alexa's baptism.

I always think of the crushing hugs hello and goodbye when I think of Opa. More recently "I love you" has been added to the greetings, which warms my heart.

I love the way Opa's eyes sparkle with mischief when he tells a joke showing his sense of humor.

A really cool experience in life that I owe to you was the opportunity to visit your sponsored child (Gifty) in Ghana while I was out there for a semester. It's not every day you get to serve as a living connection between a shy little girl in Accra, Ghana, and your grandparents in Stratford, Canada! met her family, saw her school, learned more about the organization and the sponsorship program firsthand, and got to have an amazing conversation with the Ghanaian I.N. Network staff member who took me out to see Gifty and her family. This was a pretty fantastic experience any way you look at it, but particularly for me with my interests and studies in international development, it had a whole extra layer of value. And, of course, it was pretty sweet to connect with you to share the story of my experience back with you. Thank you for this!

I remember back when our family lived in BC and Alexa and I (still in high school at the time) got to fly a to Ontario for a couple weeks together, during which time we went to a Geleynse reunion. At our Geleynse Sunday service, we were all standing and singing, when suddenly some wave of emotion hit me I'm not even sure what exactly it was anymore, I but I think it had something to do with all my feelings about moving from Ontario to Haiti to BC, the distance of BC, the fact that my whole family couldn't be there, etc... You were standing behind me as we sang, and at a certain point I turned to you in my tears, only to be immediately engulfed in your strong Opa arms. You held me so close and so tightly for the rest of the song, and that was so incredibly comforting, reassuring, and secure.

I always love when you address me by my full name of Maria Christina. I feel so honoured and special to bear a family name and the name of your mother, no less and when you in particular use the full name, it impresses the specialness and the significance of it upon me.

I love your great appreciation for music, and have felt so honoured when you have praised my own piano playing. Compliments from one's wise and respected grandfather mean a great deal.

I remember moving to Calgary and Opa emailing me asking how life was going. I was really touched that he was interested in me Alida. Opa advised me to stop being a gypsy and to try to put down roots wherever I ended up. I've taken that advice with me every time I move on to the next city.

Whenever Father and Mother said they were coming and would be there for tea time, you could set your watch on it. They drove in at 3:00. No wonder it drove them crazy that we lived our lives on Haiti time!

You loves your desserts just can't pass them up. After all, "Why would you do that?" (What diabetes?)

The superlatives: "Ridiculous!"

As a young kid I was always impressed by Father's toga, especially when he put out his arms to give the blessing.

The way you used to answer the phone before you got call display "GGGGeleijnse".

Some of the sermons that you preached: 1. One based on Revelation 1 and 4 God sitting on the throne in heaven, the centre piece he is in control! And then the full-circled rainbow around the throne a sign of God's promises never failing. What a comfort! 2. You preached one where you talked about our human need for boundaries. God has placed His laws in our lives, which we sometimes feel are so restrictive. But you used an example from a book... where someone was put into a big water container and was kept from touching the sides, and over time he went completely crazy. God set boundaries in our lives to keep us on track. 3. One of the sermons you preached in Montreal. After a few months of living there, I was really impressed by the Catholic church all the visual signs of God's presence, the opportunity to walk into any Catholic church and pray at any time of the day, people lighting candles as they prayed, etc. While there is probably nothing wrong with a lot of these things in themselves, when they become the focus of our worship, it has become misdirected. Our worship always needs to focus on God. As a young adult at the time, that really left an impression on me.

Opa’s love for music — I remember when he and Oma came to visit once when we lived in BC, and as I played piano he just sat and listened for quite some time, remarking about how beautiful it was. It was a special thing to play for him.

I always found it somewhat ironic that, for all of your lack of physical activity, and your general aversion to anything outside, etc. you took us on major camping trips the Pineries, out east, out west, from the west to the east, etc. (and some of my other siblings experienced other ones that I didn't). I have lots of great memories from those trips.

Living in Clinton, only 45 minutes down the road from Stratford, Father and Mother came on a regular basis on Sundays when Father would preach here. We benefited from lots of stories about Holland and their youth that we would never have heard had they lived farther away.

You walking through the bush close to their house in Stratford each day and picking up garbage and you got a story about that in the Stratford paper!

You engaged our kids in conversations about anything and everything whenever they came to visit. I know they always appreciated that.

I was always impressed that when father preached in Clinton, you could hear a pin drop in the church. The message of his sermons really resonated with the Clinton congregation.

While I didn't always agree with everything Father and Mother expected from me as I was growing up (imagine that!) and while I may not have appreciated it at the time, upon reflection I recognize that while we know that our faith is a gift of grace, mine was certainly nurtured in a large part by a home environment where Father and Mother made it the centre of their lives and lived it out, openly expressing it.

I remember one of our last family reunions when Oma was still with us Opa preached on Sunday morning and it was just our whole family together that morning. At the end Opa stood up and as a father pleaded with his children to never EVER question the love that our Father in Heaven has for us He raised his hands and blessed his children, his grandchildren and great grandchildren... and in that moment I knew I had the best heritage I could have ever asked for. I realized the value in my upbringing that so many people have never had: a godly father. grandfather / great grandfather who has lived his life to teach and preach the word of God. A man who has raised his children to know the greatest truth and has passed that down through two more generations. The blessings of his obedience will last far beyond his living years.

The other memory was an email Opa sent to all his sons and grandsons on Father's Day 2013. He humbly shared how he felt he had missed the mark at times in raising his own kids, how he had some regrets and how he so admired his sons and grandsons in how they are now fathers. He acknowledged their strengths and encouraged them in the importance of that job. He praised them in the ways they love their children and are expressive in that and how they spend time with their children. Opa was so humble in that moment but his blessing and encouragement to his sons/grandsons was so powerful. I wanted to share with the world how amazing my Opa is in fact I was asked to lead a prayer for the fathers in our church that day and I did share Opa's I email with the church and read it to the fathers in our congregation as a blessing to them. I got many comments afterwards of appreciation for that. That was a moment I was SO PROUD and SO THANKFUL for the Opa I have!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!

Dear Opa, As an in-law, have had the privilege of having you as an Opa through marriage. While I don't have memories from childhood, am grateful for the 16 years that I have been part of the Geleynse family. I am very thankful for the inspiration you have given to me as a mother. In a world that often questions the choice to stay home with children, you have given me renewed vision and purpose with your words of encouragement. You have reminded me that motherhood is kingdom work and that raising children is a calling given by God. Thank you for remembering our family in prayer. I am blessed by you.

Dear Opa, I remember a time when you and Oma came to Inkerman to babysit us kids for several days while Mom and Dad took a trip to the US (presumably to try and sell Luke to the lowest bidder). I can't recall what year it was, but I was clearly old enough to record the memory yet still young enough not to be responsible for my actions . It was suppertime and you and Oma were summoning everyone to the table. I was busy riding a yellow plastic duck, as was the custom, and I took great exception to your telling me what to do. I stated rather angrily that "you are not my Dad, and you can't tell me what to do!". For good measure, I may also have slipped something in there about me hating the entire family, but I'm not certain. I don't remember how that particular episode ended, but I'll take my being alive and relatively un-maimed at this point as evidence that you did not beat the tar out of me. Thank you Opa, for your patience and for graciously sparing the rod I most certainly deserved.

One of my favourite things about you Opa is your amazing hearty laugh!

I love how important I feel when I am talking to you. You are an amazing listener and you have the ability to make me feel like the only person in the room.

One time in Clinton, you preached and you had a sermon on how God quiets us with his love, and that has stuck with me so closely. It was such an incredible image, and hearing it come from you felt like a gift.

I love reading the emails that you send to the I family. I especially loved the ones you and Oma sent out where you went through all the families, updating us on all the latest from that family. It was a great way to hear about what was going on in everyone's families.

I love how you have/had a day for each family and you'd pray for all the kids, grandkids, and great-grand kids. I can only imagine how long the prayers would be with all the people to pray for and remember!

I'll never forget the way you say the word "reeediculous".

I loved it when you would come to the Clinton church and preach there. I always felt so proud seeing you up there and hearing your sermons. You were in your glory and I could tell how much you enjoyed preaching. I love that passion you had for what you did.

Your hugs are also so intense!! When saying hello or good-bye, I can always expect a bone crushing hug, which starts with you grabbing both arms and bringing the person in for the most intense hug ever! :)

I remember you and Oma visited Uncle John and Aunt Anneke in South Dakota and you stopped in to visit me at Dordt. I loved showing you around campus, introducing you to my roommates, and showing you the dorm apartment I lived in at that time.

I will always remember seeing you and Oma wave us good-bye from your front stoop or drive way when we left.

One of my favourite moments from our wedding is when you surprised me by showing up. One of the things I had always wanted on my wedding day was to have you pray a blessing over my husband and I. When I talked to you a few days before our wedding and found out that you and Oma couldn't come because of Oma's health, cried. That was the only thing I cried about in all the wedding planning and preparations that went on. I was so disappointed and heart-broken. I remember being so confused when Uncle Ralph invited you up during the wedding ceremony to pray the blessing. That was the best surprise I have ever had! Thank you for blessing us on that day and for making that one of my most favourite parts of our wedding day.

I remember when you and Oma came to take care of us when Mom and Dad went away for a few days without us kids. You and Oma brought along some "treats" and you were SO excited about the "vatagruel" (sp??) that was going to be sooo good and delicious on a hot day (this was in the summer). You raved about how Bart's kids (?)..... loooved it and we would too. Out came the canning jar of pink liquid with weird black and brown things floating in it (oats and raisins I believe). Oh, it was so gross!!! I don't think any of us wanted to try it. You were SO disappointed that we didn't like it!

I remember going with you to the Parade of Lights after Thanksgiving in Rapid City.

I remember your preparation of a prayer that was read at our wedding, along with prayers from Grandpa Oegema and our fathers.

I remember witnessing God's faithfulness over generations as depicted in your meeting your namesake great-grandson (Martinus Oegema)

I remember camping and the fact that we would tease Father about his "shaving ritual" "We're camping. You should grow a beard". I remember one a time he left it for a few days, and I liked the rough look, but Father promptly shaved it off the next morning, saying it was too itchy.

I loved going clothes shopping with Father (which didn't happen often), but Father would let me buy whatever I thought looked nice, even if it was not necessarily the most practical thing (like a white dress). When I went with Mother she would always look at the price tag first, then the wash instructions, and finally whether or not I liked it or it fit. I remember once that Father bought a pullover shirt that we both thought looked great. When we got home he showed Mother, and she didn't like it so it went back to the store.

We went on camping trips every summer, and I remember Father teaching all of us how to make a proper campfire. There was definitely a right way and a wrong way to go about it. I also remember sitting around that fire and asking Father to tell stories of when he was younger. That's where I remember hearing about how his older brother Nico locked the window leaving him sitting stranded on the roofand stories of biking to school, dating Mother, running out to see a downed plane during the war etc. LOVED sitting there looking into the flames and hearing him talking.

I loved New Year's Eve celebrations. It was the only time of the year when I remember Father playing games with us, for a whole evening.

I remember learning how to read a map from Father. Whenever we went on a car trip he would have me follow the route on the map. A useful skill to have pre-GPS.

I remember at (son) Bart's wedding all the Fathers and Grandfathers were asked to pray over the couple. Father had sent in his prayer (as he was unable to be there in person) which was read by the pastor. It was so special that he "was there" in that powerful way. Afterwards the pastor made a comment like "I want to meet Bart's Opa".

I remember seeing you and Dad Oegema sitting together in my living room after John's funeral. I know it was not easy for either of you to be there, both having been widowed in the previous year, as well as all the travel headaches involved in coming, but it meant a great deal to me that you were there. Thank you for that gift!

I remember going with you and Andy to a Montreal Canadians vs Toronto Maple Leafs game at the old Forum de Montreal. The thing that sticks with me the most about this experience is that it was the first hockey game I'd ever been to and I didn't understand why the Canadians pulled their goalie!! And they lost and was heartbroken, because I thought they were supposed to win. (It turns out Montreal had been on a winning streak of 22 games and this would have been the NHL record for longest streak. And they lost 3-2! But I didnt know that until years later.)

Intense. Intellectual. Wise. Opa said what he thought.

I’ve always been impressed by and admired Opa’s reading, intellect, multilingualism, work, and accomplishments, and found him to have such an interesting story… (being an interpreter as such a young person during the war; his role at Institut Farel; immigrating to Canada; moving around…).  I admired his presence.  And I treasure that he put the time and energy into writing his book, so that we all could read and have on paper some of his thoughts and story/our own history.

Opa could look very intense and sometimes angry (even when he wasn’t), but he could also have an amazing twinkle/spark in his eyes, and had an amazing smile and a sense of humour.

Opa always asked me about my studies, my work, etc. He (and Oma) prayed for each of us by name! He was interested in us.

Opa’s love for Oma.  Witnessed in various ways, but one memory that stands out is seeing them together at my other Oma’s funeral at the cemetery.  Opa was holding onto Oma soooo tightly.

I always appreciated how he would spend the time at each family reunion to go around and have a very direct conversation with each of the grandkids to see how they were doing and to ask what was going on in their lives, what they were learning, and what some of their hopes and dreams for the future were. I specifically remember how, as he grew older, he became increasingly distraught that I had not yet found a wife yet, I suspect mostly in part because he know how much of a positive impact Oma had had on his life. I appreciate that he was not only a student of theology but also read sci-fi and fantasy and even when he parsed his library down, some of his sci-fi and fantasy books were the ones that he kept. When I was a kid I remember my mom telling us about a sermon that he preached where he talked about The Lord of the Rings and that he was a not-so-secret nerd, which was fun for those of us kids and grandkids who are also big fans of those things.

When I was younger, father and I did not see eye to eye on many things. He operated in a completely different world than I did - his was work and theology, mine was sports. They seldom intersected, so there was little common ground. In the middle of that time - basically high school, Father and Mother were called to move to Montreal, right before my senior year. That was devastating to me, but my cross country coach was ready to bail me out - he and his wife had talked it over and they were willing to let me live at their place. How great was that, I could stay for my senior year, and the bonus was that it would be with a family that was totally into sports. But father and mother were not so convinced. But at some point father sat me down and said something to this effect, "I know that I am not a very present father for you, and that your interests are completely different than mine. You have found someone in your coach who you can connect and communicate with. That is so important and I'm thankful that you have someone like that in your life who is a Christian man. So mother and I give our support for you to live with the Warners next year." Not only was I thrilled that I could stay, but I gained a whole new respect for father that day. To intentionally step aside and let someone else fill the dad void is a big deal. I was impressed then, but not nearly as impressed as I am now, being a dad myself. I've used that example numerous times in different situations over the years.

I am, literally, eternally grateful to father and mother for the Christian upbringing that I received. Their commitment to God and their Christian faith was never in question. They modeled commitment to each other in their marriage, commitment to hard work, commitment to whatever they were involved in. I believe that was a huge factor into shaping me into the person I am today.

I was always impressed with the range of music, and books, that father read. Even in his later years, he read stuff like Harry Potter because, "I want to know what my grandchildren are reading". Wow! And as a teenager I remember getting into the car after father had driven somewhere and the radio was often cranked up to some rock station. Got to know what the kids are listening to… I guess!

In my later teen years and as an adult I learned to appreciate what an excellent preacher father was. He could take any topic/passage, draw out stuff I would never expect, connect it with another part of scripture (Old Testament to New Testament) and wrap it all up showing how everything is complete/fulfilled in Christ. What a gift!

Father never complained about being in Huronview. He recognized the need for it, and submitted to that. If he had any misgivings about it, or didn't like it, he never let on to us or made us feel guilty. I am so thankful for that, as I have heard/witnessed so many situations that are completely opposite to that.

Father impacted the lives of so many people, both staff and other residents, at Huronview. Staff often told us about how he would offer to pray for them. I'm not sure he always waited for their response, but he would just launch into a very personal and heartfelt prayer for the staff. They often mentioned being in tears by the time he was done, because they could not remember being prayed for in such a personal way.

It's hard right now to think about father without the last 4 years, and especially the last few months, dominating our thoughts. Seeing him in his slow decline over those years was tough, but at the same time a real blessing, as we could talk about stuff, or just quietly share life. And then a lot of time over the last months as he had trouble communicating, just singing hymns, reading scripture, and praying with him was a real privilege. He still appreciated that, and could sometimes still participate. That was one of the last things to go.

I always remember how Opa had a super-sweet tooth, something that persisted even after he was in the nursing home, where he would often try to steal extra cookies or get us to give him extra eggnog, and inevitably succeeded.

We named our first son (Martinus, aka Marty) after Opa - We liked the name, yes, but naming him after Opa was the biggest and most meaningful part to us: A testament to God’s faithfulness, and a heritage of (great) grandparents who love the Lord. We are very grateful for that.