In Loving Memory of my Brother, John Martens Harder


Saturday evening, August 29, 2020, two nieces, Sarah Hoover and Linda Vandervliet both contacted me to let me know their father, my brother John (aka: Johannes) was killed earlier in a hit and run accident, in Mexico. Loss is always hard, no matter the circumstances. But it is especially shocking to hear of a sudden death such as this.

Details of the accident as relayed by John’s wife, Marjorie:
Late morning, August 29, 2020, John and Marj Harder were traveling by van from Bucerias to Mezcales Mexico. Once out of the van they had to cross the highway to go to the Walmart mall. They noticed vehicles had stopped both ways, so John said, “let’s go now..”. They started to cross, and all of a sudden noticed a vehicle coming. John started to run and the car hit him head on and pushed him quite a ways down the highway. Marj was not injured but witnessed the crash. Police and ambulance arrived within 10-15 min. They said John was killed on impact.

John married Marj Penner September 4, 1999. At the time of their marriage, John had two daughters, Linda (Mike) Vandervliet and Sarah (Chris) Hoover, and Marj had one son, Aaron Penner (fiancee’ Alicia Szucs). Together they have one daughter, Tonya Harder.

We are thankful that Marj was not injured, and our hearts go out to her as she processes the trauma of witnessing John’s death, and goes through the grieving process. She and their daughter Tonya, who lived with them in Mexico, plan to fly home with John’s remains as soon as they are able to make arrangements to do so. Tonya’s passport is expired, so they need to get that renewed first. Please pray for them, that things come together and they remain strong.

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Loving husband to Marjorie (Penner) Harder, Father to Linda (Mike) Vandervliet, Sarah (Chris) Hoover, Aaron Penner (fiancee’ Alicia Szucs), and Tonya Harder, Grandfather to Nadia and Luke Vandervliet, Evelyn, Nolan, Alice and Stella Hoover, and Natalie Marie Penner. Brother to Mary (Abram) Schmidt, Peter (Nancy) Harder, Jacob (Susie) Harder, Henry Harder, Anna (Leonard) Hursh, Tina Harder, Margaret (Jim) Verwer, Nancy (Lloyd) Kuepfer, Wilhelm (Connie) Harder, Trudy (Tim) Metzger, Eva Harder, Martha Harder, David (Shannon) Harder, and Abe Harder, and sister-in-law Susan (the late Cornelius) Harder. Brother-in-law to Laura (Don) Larochelle, Florence (Gregg) Klassen, and Fred Penner. Uncle to many nieces and nephews.

John was predeceased by his parents Peter and Anna Harder, his step-mother Katharina Harder, brother Cornelius, one infant brother, and his parents-in-law, John and Martha Penner.

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Our family extends appreciation to John’s wife Marj for her loyal support and love for our brother throughout their marriage, and for caring for him after death. To witness such a horrific event so far from most of her family, and then tend to these matters takes great courage. Thanks to Tonya Harder for supporting her mom in Mexico in this difficult time, and each of their children in the capacity of support they were able to offer.

Aaron Penner set up a GoFundMe to help with expenses and for Marj and Tonya to get established upon their return to Canada. Should family and friends wish to donate, visit GoFundMe: Bringing Family Together.

A personal thanks to the many who have sent words of condolences to our family, and offered prayers on our behalf. Your kindness and encouragement are much appreciated.


*****

For those able to read Spanish, here is a news article on the accident: Conductor mata a peatón por Lago Real y huye del lugar. (WARNING: Semi-Graphic photo included in news article).  The following is my best attempt to translate to English. Anything I could not translate, I excluded. (I welcome corrections).

Being dragged at least 40 meters after being struck by a vehicle, a man died at the scene of the accident, while the person responsible fled the scene.

This accident occurred Saturday morning [August 29, 2020], on Highway 200 [...]. Police were called and verified the accident.

It was after ten o'clock in the morning of this Saturday [August 29, 2020], when Municipal Police received the report of the accident. After confirming the accident, they called for paramedics support.

When personnel from the Civil Protection and Firefighters of Bahía de Banderas arrived, they pronounced the man dead at the scene of the accident.

State Police and SEMEFO arrived at the scene to undertake the task of recording reports surrounding the event, and taking the body to rest.

The identity of the person is still unknown. It is only known that it is an older male.

Reported by: Lupillo Arce

*****

© Trudy Metzger 2020

On becoming a grandma and God interrupting a prayer for our unborn grand-baby…

There I was, praying for our family. I had just started a prayer for our unborn grand-baby, when God interrupted. And He seemed quite off-topic, at that. I mean, I’m praying blessing over the next generation, and asking Him to keep His hand on this child, and all kinds of good things, and He says, “You keep taking your eyes off of Jesus”.

Wait… what?

It took me off guard. “You keep taking your eyes off of Jesus,” He said again.

Let me tell you, when God interrupts a prayer for a grand baby, you listen. Because it must be important. After all, He knows all about how we grandparents get on about grandchildren, from the day you find out about the first one being on the way, until the great-grand-babies and great-great-grand-babies show up. He wired us that way. (And you never interrupt a first-time grandparent prattling on about the baby, and how the mama is doing, and “he’s going to be such a good daddy”…. You just don’t. You let them chatter and you celebrate with them.

God knows this. And He still interrupted me. Funny thing, I didn’t have to shift from grand-baby chatter to ask, “What are you talking about?” I knew. But to make sense of it, let me tell the backstory…

****

It all began few months ago, toward the end of ‘the crazy’ of things with the ASAA, and the other two guys, whom I shall not name. (And if you don’t know the story, just settle for knowing there was some conflict surrounding a young woman who was molested, which intertwined with a lot of other insane stuff, and I was involved. I had hard evidence — and still do — of things that needed addressing. And still do. But, alas, male power and religious dominance shall prevent such things. As for the law, some of the details could go either way at this point, form my understanding).

But it began there, when I realized the darkness of the way things were handled was getting to me, and I decided “I’m out”. I intended never to address it again, publicly, and respond in private to people by offering evidence and letting them deal with that, rather than taking my word for it. And that is what I did. Until this week. Over the weeks and months emails, phone calls and facebook messages trickled in. One of the two ‘other guys’ involved was saying “…..” and is it true? Or “From what (the one guy said), you [….]”

Other messages were kind-hearted souls wanting us to ‘kiss and make up’ and play nice in the church sandbox again. The pain of us leaders not being in relationship was/is almost too much. And some shared what they had been told were the issues. Peripheral things… I was just trying to destroy the one guy. I was jealous of his ministry, some said. Whatever trickled in, trickled out my left ear about as pick as it slipped in the right. When tempted to tackle it, I reminded myself, “I’m out”. Until this week.

I’ll confess up front that when I first heard it, I laughed. It was, in my mind, the most absurd accusation to date. I don’t recall when someone first said it, but it was some weeks ago, and I ignored it. Until I learned more details (which would require half a dozen blogs to explain, and it isn’t relevant, so I’ll not bother about that), and the story behind it. I forgot completely that “I’m out”, and I addressed it.

The story was pulled out of thin air that I wanted to be on the ASAA board, and being offended, I started spreading lies about the aforementioned group and people. In January I was asked by the then-vice-chair of the ASAA board if I had any advice for them. Not other than one thing, I said, and that was to vet their board, interview each one personally and make sure there is no history of abuse or molestation that is not taken care of. With so many ministries associated through board members (Life Ministries, Strait Paths, Kenny K. – as a pastor and counsellor, the Reed brothers, and others) I urged them to be thorough so it would not damage those ministries. He let me know that the board was fully in place and nothing could be done about it, and if that were to take place, he would also be disqualified. I said that since it has nothing to do with me (by extension not Generations Unleashed), it was merely advice and up to them. However, Tim and I talked and decided that if they did not vet their board members thoroughly, we would not have anything to do with any formal or informal involvement, beyond attending.

Based on that interaction, he decided I wanted to be on the board, or so he said when I confronted him about spreading the lie that I wanted to be on the board. That’s how he took our interaction, he said, and he was sorry *if* he had misunderstood. There was exactly three days between that conversation and our falling out, which happened about the time I asked him to explain what he meant when he said he would be disqualified from ASAA leadership if they vetted those with unresolved abuse/molestation history. ( I won’t get into those details.) From that point forward, things in our relationship deteriorated, with some attempts to work through things.

That’s the backstory, but the reason I laughed when I heard it was two-fold. First, I tried to picture me working with a team of conservative Mennonite men that closely. Somehow, as much as I’ve learned to respect many of them in healthy relationship,  including leaders, the picture makes me giggle. Knowing me and my story… Nope… I just can’t see any formal ties like that working well for either side. And I’ve never had any such ambitions. I’m happy to help them in any way possible, and support them, but a partnership?

While I wasn’t so much ‘put off’ as humoured, it was that tie to the organization (ASAA) that bothered me.

In fairness, I had taken information that was brought to me and I believed to be true, and shared it publicly (regarding the break and enter). Immediately upon discovering it could not be proven with evidence, I apologized both publicly and privately to him.

 

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I was content to leave it at that, assuming he really had nothing to do with it, and feeling badly for ever having brought it up with no evidence.

And all I was hoping for from him when I approached him about the unfounded rumours of me wanting to be on the board, was to own up that pulling such an assumption out of the context of our January conversation — when our conversation was really only focused on addressing vetting board members and his comment — was neither right nor justifiable. No such apology was forthcoming.

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Truth is, I’ve hardly thought about any of this since starting school apart from tending to the messages and questions that come in, as I was able. Somehow PhD work is not easier than the Masters was, and leaves little time for worrying about past kerfluffles. But, having confronted the source of the rumours/lies, and receiving no acknowledgement, it is hard not to shift at the waves.

So here I am, now, having spent several days looking back at the mess of this past year once again. Nothing resolved or appropriately addressed. The man who was sending inappropriate texts over the past few years and who molested one young woman, as recently as October still offered massages to someone via text and voice mail. (To his church’s credit, they have finally acted on the allegations and put him out of membership). The leader with whom I had a falling out … well, that remains as it was. And ASAA… besides my alleged disappointment at being excluded, it all sits as it was, and so shall it remain by all appearances.

And that is where that interruption came in… Having spent a day with our daughter, shopping all things young mama for her birthday, seeing her round tummy, hearing her tell about the kicking and the changes, and loving life. And suddenly finding myself back in the muddle of things gone by that stand no chance of resolution, no hope of relational redemption… And the only good having come so far being that, while fluffy popularity dropped this past year (thank you Jesus! I don’t do fluff and bandwagon), the truth is we have become surrounded by countless warriors and hundreds of new people we never knew before have stepped up to support us in so many ways. I’ve never had such a thing before. Total strangers, over and over and over again, writing to say they are praying. Some also contributing to the costs of all the travel this past year, and all saying we are in this together. (Thirteen out of country trips in a year add up… So, again, thank you to those who contributed).

Those are beautiful and meaningful things, for which I am so grateful! And I value each new friend and partner in this war against sexual violence with deep appreciation. But none of those things replace loss of trust and loss of relationships that have fallen by the wayside as a result of this past year. They do not replace the loss that comes when things are not handled in an open and forthright manner; when politics and polite society is more important than truth. These things are huge losses I grieve from this past year, and the zero-hope-of any future redemption, saddens me. But I embrace the redemptions that have come out of it, and accept that those may well have been some of the purpose in the first place.

But the losses… They are the things that, when the waves start to rise — sometimes because someone dropped a giant boulder in the water, sometimes for other reasons — and the waters get unsteady, those things distract me. And I struggle to see Jesus in the chaos. The waves of discouragement at how things unfolded. The waves of lost trust. The waves of my own failures and mistakes in it — especially getting it wrong and speaking out about the break-in with no evidence, and the harm and injustice toward so many of the wounded out there..

These waves rise and fall….

And through the waves, in the middle of that prayer for our grand-baby, where the heart is quiet and tender and undistracted by the ills and evils of life and the world….

There God whispered. And I am now deliberately, determinedly, yet humbly turning my eyes away from the waves, once again, to the Master of the waves; the Creator of the Universe, the One who made the heaven and the earth….

And our sweet grand-baby.

Because I want my heart to be quiet and tender, undistracted by the ills and evils of this world. And God and grand-babies, even unborn ones, they offer that.

As always…  with another shift in focus…

Love,
~ T ~

Psalm 23 English Standard Version (ESV)

    The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
    He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
    He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
    for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
    I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.

 

Raw Mother’s Day Thoughts

It’s Mother’s Day. And the emotions across the nations, wherever this is celebrated, range from peaceful, to defeated, to devastated, to lonely and confused, to hate and grif and everything beyond and in between. These emotions belong to the mothers. To the daughters and sons. And to the husbands. And we could add many more emotions… many unnamed emotions, both positive and negative.

Today is one of the best days. It is one of the most painful. It is forgotten. It is monopolized and commercialized, each market pretending to cater to the love of mothers, and helping those closest to her express that love well. When in reality it is about competing for sales and pressuring the husband, son or daughter to look the best they can, all so the particular industry – whether flowers, chocolate or binoculars (this was my delightful gift today, for bird watching) – can get their ‘cut’ on this emotional experience. And the mothers, most of us (I think… I hope…) really care little about that commercial expression. Or maybe it’s just a few of us, but mostly I doubt that. (Though, I dare say, Tim impressed me beyond words with the binoculars. I love birds! They bring me so much joy!) Even so, life is far to beautiful, too ‘real’, and too raw – both good and painful – for such a thing to begin to touch on the reality of motherhood.

The forgotten mother spends this day in absolute grief and defeat, having failed to win the hearts of her children. She compares with other mothers. The ones whose children all come home, offering hugs and love and affection – accompanied by gifts of flowers and breakfast in bed. She compares with the mother of the pastor who preaches a sermon honouring her, and his wife, because she’s just amazing and has it together – she observes her at church and see her children all behave ‘just so’; each playing some significant role in the function of the church. And she wonders how she went so wrong.

She recalls her failures. She remembers raising her own children, and the love she felt. She remembers the fear she wouldn’t do it right. She remembers yelling at her children and falling on her knees, begging God to fix her, to help her be a good mom. To “please, please, please help” her be the mom her children need to do well in life. And failing. Again. And again. And again. She remembers feeling forgotten by God… If He loves her so much, and wants the best for her, why won’t He fix whatever is broken inside and heal her, for their sake. Forgotten, abandoned by God.

She remembers her own mother, distant and disconnected. And wonders again, how the lot fell on her to never know the love of a mother, and fail at showing love to her children in a way they needed it, or winning the love of her children. She compares, and grows continually more defeated. The mother who was a drunk and on drugs… she knows that mom. Her children are home. The mother who left for years and came back. her children surround her.

On this Mother’s Day, she chooses to stay home. Alone. Her husband left her long ago. If not in body, then in soul and heart. The pain of facing all those ‘together’ people at church is just too much.

But she doesn’t know that the pews are filled with other mothers who feel just like her. The pastor’s wife listens to him preach and forces herself to stay composed. Last week he berated her, told her he wished he’d never met her, that she’s an unfit mother. Any godly pastor’s wife would support her husband, and be understanding of his porn addiction. Ministry is hard.

She doesn’t know that the woman whose children all come home with gifts and breakfast in bed, and hugs and kisses, do so out of tradition and obligation. They fear being cut out of The Will if they don’t cater to her. They’ve had this threat before. And on Monday they have their appointments with counsellors to work through the aftermath of a day filled with the same dysfunction.

She doesn’t know that even the mother who did it well, whose children are genuinely close to her, even she questions herself at times and compares. Because no mother is anything more than human and flawed. There is no perfect mother. There is no perfect child. There is no perfect husband. There is no perfect relationship. Each one carries scars – acknowledged or not acknowledged.

I usually write a Mother’s Day blog, but truth is, I don’t like writing them. I think of all of these things every mother’s day. Year after year. Every Mother’s Day I feel a range of emotions. I think of my ‘childless mother’ friends; those whose hearts are so motherly and the desire to be a mother so strong, yet never being blessed with children. I think of their grief. I think of the mothers whose babies died, either in miscarriage or through stillbirth or later in life, and who are left with empty arms. I think of their grief. I think of mothers who have abandoned their children, or been abandoned by them. I think of their grief. I think of my own mother. I think of my closest friends. I am keenly aware of my own story. And I think of the many reasons why Mother’s Day is one of the hardest days of the year for a large percentage of our population, while some live in the thrill of the day. And I don’t know what to write, what to say, that both honours mothers and acknowledges this reality.

As I contemplated all of this earlier this morning, I thought of Mary the mother of Jesus. And I wondered, Mary, did you ever feel like a complete failure? Did you ever wonder why God allowed you to be the mother of Jesus? And I wished I could pour her a cup of coffee and talk with her. Maybe if God’s mother told me she felt defeated, maybe I’d have something to write about that might speak to us all. Maybe if she said she felt like a failure the day her 12-year-old disappeared and they had to scramble to find him. Like, seriously! What mother loses her child in a crowd like that? Never mind… Jesus’ mother. And it happened to us too, at a store. Twice. Where one of our kids took off and scared the life out of us. And what mother speaks with pride of her homeless son who doesn’t even have a pillow to call his own? Right… that was Jesus’ mother again. He had no place to call His own, no place to lay His head. Jesus was a wanderer. He was despised by many. Rejected by the masses. He was eccentric. He disrupted the world, the religious community and broke the rules.

No pastor, if that was his son and he felt the mother was the influence, would stand up and preach how proud he is of how his wife encouraged her son in this path. No mother would feel deserving of honour, if image and church standards were the measuring stick. And without an awareness of His higher purpose, not one of us would compare ourselves with her and her Son and say, “I wish my son had turned out like that! I wish I had been His mother.”

A mother recently recounted her experience of praying for her child who seemed to be struggling deeply but not open to communicating. Over the years she had told God, probably a thousand time and more, how sorry she was for letting her daughter down, for failing to understand her, for being so messed up and broken that she was oblivious to what was happening to her daughter, right in front of her. And she had begged Him to pursue her daughter’s heart. Whatever it takes for her to heal, do it. Anything at all. And then the most excruciatingly painful thing happened. (The details of which I will not share).  And this mother went to God, angry and feeling deeply betrayed by Him. “How could You do this! How could you let this happen?” Over and over she prayed, screaming at Him in her heart, wishing she could get up on His chest and beat God up…. literally, physically beat Him up. He deserved it, as far as she was concerned. After months and months and months of praying for her daughter and begging for some restoration, it seemed all hell had broken loose, and rather than get better, things got much worse. For several days she ‘beat up’ on God, offering the same broken prayer of anger and blame, until one day when she ended that prayer with “I asked you to heal her and pursue her heart… not THIS!” And in a moment of grief, she paused in stillness, and listened through tears as He spoke, “What do you think I am doing? I am pursing her heart. … And I am pursuing your heart too.” The I Am had spoken.

So, mothers, today don’t compare yourself with others. Trust the I Am to heal… to pursue and to restore. That mother’s story hasn’t changed, and the circumstances remain as they were. But God is pursuing her heart, and her daughter’s heart. Healing may not come in this life in the way a mother longs for and prays for, or in the way a child wishes. But God will pursue hearts. It’s Who He is and what He does. And remember that the ‘evidence’ you see – the smiles, the flowers, the many symbols of celebration – don’t tell the story of the tears, the fights, the prayers, the anger, the lostness. Nor do they tell the story of the I Am who is the Restorer. Cling most tightly to the latter. You are worthy. You are imperfect, yet Perfectly Loved. You fail, but are not a failure. You are forgotten today, but not abandoned.

Today you are honoured by your Heavenly Father who blesses motherhood, who forgives failure, who redeems broken stories and restores losses. He delights in you, and rejoices over you with singing (Zeph. 3:17). He called you for a purpose before time began, and that purpose cannot be silenced by your failures or any other thing; the I Am has spoken (Jer. 1:5). And His word, from the beginning of time, have never been empty and always bring Life. Invite Him into your joy today, and invite Him into your tears and grief. He loves you. He receives you. He blesses you.

To be blessed is to by filled with joy. This Mother’s Day, be blessed, no matter what your story.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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As always…

Love,
~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger 2018