Henry Lloyd Kreider

I began life as a bashful, very sheltered youngster on a modest dairy farm in Lancaster County, Pa. Born on January 25, 1931. I was the middle one of three children: my brother John was a year old, and my sister, Lois Jean, was born 4 years later. I was told that I was named after my paternal grandfather, Henry K. Kreider, and that my mother liked the name Lloyd. My childhood days were happy and very family-oriented, with frequent visits on all sides of the family. Although I was growing up during the Great Depression, I knew nothing of hunger or hardship until I read about it later. A carefree kid, I enjoyed playing in the dirt, splashing in the creek which ran through the farm and sledding down the barn hill in the winter. We grew up with a strong work ethic, learning early the importance of regular chores, and that nothing took the place of regularly milking the cows. I remember the little kiosk-like box in the middle of the cow stable, where as a very young child I was kept out of danger, but could watch while my mother was helping Father milk the cows.

Since John and I were close in age, we did a lot of things together (and also fought a lot!). We couldn?t have dreamed that years later we would be living and working together at Delaware County Hospital in Philadelphia. We had kittens, a dog, and sheep as pets, and daily chores such as feeding chickens and gathering eggs, bringing home the cows from the meadow, feeding calves, weeding in the garden(what a boring task!), milking cows, and helping in the fields. One of my pet peeves was that my brother, John, was given the job of plowing with the John Deere because he was older. As I became older, he continued to have that "privilege" because, yes, he was older! I would instead be given the hated task of weeding in the garden or helping Mother with housework.

During the summer we were involved in other field work: hoeing weeds in the corn and potato fields, helping to "make" hay, harvesting (husking) corn, picking tomatoes, and shucking wheat. In those pre-combine days, grain was threshed in the barn and power was supplied by a puffing steam engine via a long belt to the threshing machine. We were helpers in a crew of adult men in a very long and dusty job. That was easily rated the hardest work of our young lives. Work on the farm kept us busy; our sole activities outside the farm were attending a one-room school of eight grades, and regular church attendance?usually twice on Sunday and also prayer meeting on Wednesday evening. Usually there were revival meetings for a week each year, and we would rarely miss those nightly meetings at our church. Our family would also attend the annual Bible Conference at Messiah College, in Grantham. Our family attended the Mount Pleasant Brethren in Christ Church until I was about 8- or 9-years-old. I remember those hard benches, the kind, caring congregation and my baptism in a creek not far from the church. In those days, practically all the ladies wore head coverings when indoors and bonnets when outside. Along one side of the church parking lot was a long horse shed, a remnant of past days when worshippers came to church in carriages drawn by horses that would then be tied up in the shed.

About 1944, our family started attending the Brethren in Christ Church on Arch and Hanover Streets in Elizabethtown. Father taught Sunday school there and was also a deacon for many years. I can still recall hearing about some of the difficult issues that faced the Deacon Board already in those days, such as divorce and remarriage.

In those growing-up years I struggled to find assurance of my salvation. During revival meetings I would time and again respond to altar calls, going forward to pray. This struggle lasted a long time, and in those times of doubt or rebellion I did not feel at peace with God. I especially remember one Sunday evening when we were getting ready to go to a communion service at the church. I was a member, but felt I was "out of fellowship" with God. Knowing the teaching about participating in the communion service "unworthily," I tried to avoid the service. So, I prayed urgently that our car---a 1938 Ford V8-- would not start, and it didn?t. No matter what Father (and we) did to push and pull that car, it did not start, and we did not get to church that evening! I am thankful that eventually I realized that the assurance of salvation simply requires a belief that God is faithful and His word can be trusted.

My early school days were spent at Joint School, within walking distance of our farm. One teacher taught all 8 grades and the teaching was done within the hearing range of every student. Each fall, all grades would prepare for the annual Christmas program weeks in advance: learning recitations, songs, plays, and pantomimes. At that event, the only evening event of the year, electric lights wired for the occasion transformed the place into a brightly-decorated schoolroom full of parents and excited pupils in their Sunday best clothes.

I remember a humorous event from a recess times at Joint School, when we boys and the girls were on the playground competing to capture a broom. Of course, we boys were struck on our faces with the broom bristles as we played. When we went back to classes, red-faced and sweaty, our teacher saw that our faces were covered with red spots, and she assumed that we were breaking out with measles. As I remember, I tried to explain to her why we had red spots on our faces, but she would not listen and immediately ordered us to go home. Our family remembered that incident as the "broom measles."

After 8 years in a one-room school, I entered East Donegal Township High School as a very naive 9th grader. I was unprepared for the crowds of students and the complicated daily schedule. I keenly remember being embarrassed and close to tears when in error I took a lunch break too early and was called from the lunch room back into my class!

Although not at ease in those new social situations, I felt comfortable when immersed in life on the farm, and enjoyed close association with animals, especially the cows. With our dairy herd numbering around 20, it was common to know each cow by a name, not a number. We had some purebred Holstein cows, and some were registered; I enjoyed being involved in keeping records, searching the pasture for a cow that had calved and didn?t come in for milking, bringing in the newborn calves and helping to name them.

Being on the farm and in high school, I was naturally drawn to taking the vocational agricultural course there. I enjoyed the classes and also the frequent absences from other classes when we would be excused to go to a local farm show, cattle or poultry judging contest. As a member of the Future Farmers of America, I was allowed by my parents to go to some of the evening meetings, although I almost never attended other school evening events.

In my teen years I developed a new interest: trapping animals. I became very involved in this sport and in December (trapping season) I would get up early in the morning before milking time to check my traps---mostly the muskrat traps, which were placed under water. Many were the times when my hands were extremely cold as I set these traps. Of course, gloves were out of the question when placing traps under water. I also set traps on land for opossum and foxes, although I never caught the latter. I did not want any skunks, but they come with the territory when trapping opossums. I would often skin the animals and dry the fur. Trapping was not really profitable as a business, but was done as a sport. Eventually, I felt that my interest in trapping had become a detriment to my spiritual life, and I stopped it.

As a teenager, I became aware that our family might need to move from our farm and relocate elsewhere. We children did not understand the details, but I, for one, was devastated! I remember going with my father to look at other farms that might be for sale. I was strongly attached to the soil and during those early years of high school I looked forward to making farming my vocation. When I learned that, although my Uncle Jacob Kuhns had inherited the farm where we lived, he had chosen instead to sell it to my father, I was overjoyed. Uncle Jacob was a favorite uncle to us, and I suspect that his decision was colored by the fact that we children, his nephews and niece, were so deeply attached to the farm and our father was already involved in farming it. Uncle Jacob, when not yet married, would visit his mother and spend time with us boys, helping us do extremely exciting things such as building a dam in the creek, then making a raft out of oil drums to float there. One Sunday, having come home from church, Uncle Jacob, John, and I went immediately to the creek to ride the raft, and we boys ended up in the water with our Sunday clothes dripping wet! My Grandmother Kuhns had a great influence on me as a child. Living in the house attached to ours, she encouraged me, by example, to work (weeding the garden, mowing grass, etc.) at an early age! Grandmother was a very devout and loving person, but she was not perfect. I remember that she would often argue with my father (her son-in-law) and then invariably, shortly afterward ask forgiveness. She encouraged me to memorize chapters of the Psalms. I distinctly remember as a very small boy the time when she had me kneel beside her while she prayed earnestly for me. What a blessed heritage!

In high school, I was also strongly influenced by my brother John's change from agricultural studies to academic courses. His decision and the influence of others such as my missionary aunt, Mary Kreider, and Uncle John Kuhns, an orthopedic surgeon in Boston, were drawing me away from the vocation of farming. I was also impacted by the many missionaries who visited our church, my home, or spoke in missions conferences we attended. As a result, after 2 years of vocational agricultural studies, I changed to the academic course, taking some math and Spanish courses instead. Then, as a high school senior, I transferred to Messiah College Academy. After graduating, I stayed out of school for a year, working on the farm, then took my first two years of college at Messiah. I remember the feeling of sadness I felt as I left home on Sunday evening for the next week of study and dormitory life. It was hard to leave that farm I loved so much! I loved walking in the meadow and trapping in the wintertime, and could hardly imagine living anywhere else.

In a class under Dr. C. N. Hostetter, Jr. at Messiah, we received an assignment: "Write your philosophy of life". I think that must have been when I was a college freshman. I do not remember what I wrote, but certainly, in my years at Messiah and at home I formulated some plans for what I should strive for in my life.

Mother had a lifetime subscription to the Mennonite Gospel Herald, and that publication influenced me greatly when I was a young boy, as it was war time and I learned a great deal of the non-resistant teachings of the Anabaptists. On the other hand, we subscribed to the Readers' Digest, and, it seems, without exception, each issue had thrilling stories of fighting in the war, from flying fortresses raiding Germany to naval battles and spying operations in Europe. This certainly supplied me with the information with which I could have developed a patriotic appreciation for serving in the military. Other influences were friends who served in IW or PAX service and I emulated their experiences and lived for the day when I could serve, preferably, abroad.

When I registered for Selective Service (the draft was in effect then), I registered as a conscientious objector to war. I was assigned non-combatant status, and appealed twice. The last time I was given a hearing in Philadelphia before Judge Curtis Bok. I remember that Father drove us to Philadelphia with neighbor Paris Brubaker and our pastor, C. Ray Heisey. I was dressed in a coat with a plain vest (like a Mennonite, although in those days Brethren in Christ men were encouraged to dress that way); I hardly ever wore a plain vest ? usually just a closed white shirt without a tie. Judge Bok rather assumed and accused me of dressing up conservatively for the occasion! Of course I told him I wore that clothing when I "dressed up!" I remember he asked me another question-- if Jesus had not used force when He drove the moneychangers out of the temple. (Later, I heard of a person in a similar situation who looked out the building in Philadelphia, saw the statue of William Penn on City Hall and asked some perceptive questions about him and his pacifism!) Anyway, I was give IW status after that. Previously I was questioned by some FBI agent at home on the farm. I believe that they just wanted to know if a person was sincere.

After finishing junior college I again stayed out of school for two years and then enrolled at Elizabethtown College. There I spent essentially two years in the science building, and after graduation I went on to Hahnemann Medical College in Philadelphia. My brother, attending Jefferson Medical College, was one year ahead of me; and although we attended different schools, we shared the same apartment, together cooked our meals and went home most weekends. As I recall, during those couple of years, we did not peel one potato, we cooked all our food on a pressure cooker and had well-balanced meals. The first one to arrive at the apartment in the evening would put the whole potatoes in the cooker, add the frozen meat patties or cheap cuts of lamb liver, beef heart, hamburger, etc. Frozen veggies would be cooked in a separate pan, and supper would be ready in about 20 minutes. Meanwhile the resident cockroaches would leave the stove which had become too hot for them, and seek other shelter.

Each of us, in our junior years of medical school, worked part-time "on call" as lab technicians at Delaware County Hospital in Philadelphia, working every third night and every third weekend. During our last year in medical school we worked as junior interns part-time (nights and weekends). As lab techs, we learned a lot of lessons, and it helped me a lot to have a brother to help me prioritize tasks when we were inundated with work---what tests were urgent and what tests although ordered "stat" were not critical. It was not unusual to have a surgeon visit the lab to check on readiness of blood for a transfusion for an emergency operation, when we did not yet know if it was available in the city of Philadelphia. (We would have to order it brought by taxi from the Red Cross in Rittenhouse Square.)

Delaware County Hospital (DCH) had been a work place for Brethren in Christ medical students for some time, as the list of med students over the years included Harold Engle, Glenn Hoffman, Lowell Mann, my brother John, and myself. DCH was also our home for the last year or so of med school, as we were given room and board, plus wages for being "on call." The most difficult time seemed to be on Sunday nights as we worked into the wee hours of Monday morning doing CBCs, clotting tests, urinalyses, and nose and throat cultures on the Monday morning kids scheduled for tonsillectomies, as well as some tests for other surgeries (plus emergency lab work). Many times my brother came to the lab to help me finish off the tests for Monday morning. And he taught me valuable lessons in pacing my work; as often on Sundays I would be trying to do too many tests at one time, frequently neglect one of them in the process, and have to repeat it! I really learned to appreciate John at DCH.

We undoubtedly missed a lot of Friday night parties because we tried to support Dad on the weekends by going home to help milk the cows and work in the fields on Saturdays; still it must have been a struggle for our parents to pay medical school bills for two sons, even though in those days it was not as expensive as today. As John and I roomed together in our last year together in Philadelphia, LeRoy Steinbrecher was attending his last year at Elizabethtown College and helping Father milk the cows morning and evening.

Then after John left, during my last year in Philadelphia, I roomed with LeRoy in an apartment (he had begun med school also at Hahnemann).That was the year I had a rotation at Philadelphia General Hospital in Obstetrics (PGH). That was nighttime rotation, and it was more difficult to sleep in the daytime and serve there at night. PGH is no longer in existence, but in those days it was a huge network of buildings, some of them connected by enclosed walkways. We were told that some of the interns got lost in the complex and were never found! I remember that, on that OB service we often had patients who came in just ready to deliver, but with no prenatal care. We would draw blood for a myriad of tests, since they had not already had any, and follow them through their delivery. (Of course, at that time we knew nothing about HIV and AIDS and took no special precautions against such diseases).

After my graduation from Hahnemann in June of 1959, it seemed logical for me to apply to Lancaster General Hospital (LGH) for internship, as John had also preceded me there. In those days, the interns had oversight of a "ward" of non-private patients and did a lot of work which we called "scut work"--- drawing the blood for tests, cross matching blood for any of one's own patients needing a transfusion, taking blood from blood donors at times, and when on rotation in the emergency room even riding the ambulance. I remember going onto a train at the station and helping take a patient off to be admitted to the hospital. It also seemed to me that, while traveling to an emergency, the ambulance drivers felt that the more they blew the siren, the faster they had to travel!

Since I was planning to do some overseas service, I planned to stay at LGH and take an extra year learning some surgery. As it turned out, I spent a lot of time assisting with operations and doing history and physical exams on patients being admitted for surgery. I did learn a lot about surgery, but did not have much opportunity to do it myself. I did get to close operations at times after observing the surgeons, and I remember the anxiety I had the first time a surgeon stepped away from the table and asked me to close the incision. I could almost sense the anesthesiologist and scrub nurses moaning as they knew that the operation would now take longer than they had expected!

At LGH I assisted Dr. Paul Davidson more than any other surgeon, and I admired him very much as he would take really great care of his patients, taking time to explain teaching points. One time I heard one of the other surgeons comment that one cannot really take care of the patients like Dr. Davidson, because it is just too demanding for the surgeon! Just before I finally left LGH to go overseas, one of the operating room nurses stopped at the farm where I was staying and gave me a two- volume set of Dipalma on Orthopedics. It was from Dr. Davidson with a thank you for assisting him in surgery.

About a month before completing my 2 years, Dr. Paul Lenhert, a Brethren in Christ family practice physician in Arcanum, Ohio, and the only known BIC physician of that generation, asked me to take over his practice and visit his hospital patients for a month while he traveled to Brethren in Christ missions in Africa and India. He was traveling for the Mission Board, and I served there during his absence.

During my second year at LGH I was making plans to go overseas for my alternative service assignment. The Board for World Missions asked me to go to the Phumula Mission Hospital in Africa after completing my residency. However, when I learned that Dr. Virginia Kauffman, who was in the United States on furlough after serving several terms in Africa already, was interested in returning, I bowed out of the picture. I didn't want to stand in her way, after her years of experience there as well as knowledge of the language and culture. She returned to Phumula, and the Board suggested that I offer my services to the Mennonite Central Committee, since they had a need for doctors. When I went to the MCC headquarters I met Lorne Ruegg, and mentioned that I had hoped to serve with the Brethren in Christ Church. When Lorne quickly responded, "I'm Brethren in Christ, too" it was the beginning of a lifelong friendship and more than a year of working together with MCC. I was assigned to work with Lorne and Lois Ruegg in a relief program in southern Jordan among the Bedouin villages.

So the summer of 1961 found me on a Greek freighter, an old Liberty ship from World War II, The Hellenic Beach. There were 6 passengers aboard: 3 other MCC workers, a Quaker couple who were teachers, and myself. During the six-week voyage we roamed all over the ship, marveled at the huge oil-powered engines, watched the crew as they exchanged telegraph messages with approaching ships, observed them searching carefully for geographical points as they approached and passed the Strait of Gibralter through the Mediterranean and on to Crete, Syria, and Lebanon. Sometimes, when the crew would mark time by stopping in the middle of the Mediterranean, the gangplank was lowered, and those who wanted to could go for a swim.

The first mate (from Alexandria, Egypt) gave us language lessons and tests in Arabic. We did not then know that his Egyptian Arabic was different than that spoken in our destination, southern Jordan! Nevertheless, when we eventually started our work in the Ma'an Area clinics (South Jordan) we learned to speak to Bedouins and, then as we visited MCC headquarters in Jerusalem, the servant girl there laughed at our Bedouin Arabic, which was a very basic, backward dialect of Arabic.

We disembarked at Beirut, Lebanon, where we were taken ashore in small boats. Meeting our Mennonite Central Committee hosts, we had lots of questions. One of our group asked: "Do we need to lock our rooms?" With mock surprise, our host replied, repeatedly, "This is the Holy Land!" (We locked our doors.)

As we traveled by car through Syria to northern Jordan, I could hardly believe I was really in the Holy Land, and as we slowly climbed the serpentine road to Mt. Zion I could hardly believe the sights I was seeing. We first settled in the "Jerusalem House", the office of MCC in Jordan. My home was in Ma'an, Jordan, a very isolated place. The MCC personnel house was about 4 hours from Jerusalem. Walter Martin, from Elizabethtown, Pa., was in charge of the MCC workers. I lived with Lorne and Lois Ruegg and their children, nurse Sue Epp, and Mohammed Shadid, our interpreter. We held medical clinics in five or six locations, loading our Landrover and setting up often in a rented room. Sometimes we were invited to tea as we passed by, but we couldn't always stop and still get our clinic work done!

In December 1962, I enjoyed traveling with other MCC workers and vacationing in Egypt. I had already been assigned to go next to Algeria, so when our vacation was over I embarked on another Hellenic ship bound for Marseilles. Arriving there, I boarded a ship for Algiers. I had a 4th class ticket: no seat, no food, no bed. The trip took about 26 hours. (I understood that the MCC leaders sought to practice frugality so that they could help more people; I heard that someone once asked Peter Dyck why MCC workers traveled 4th class, and supposedly received the answer, "Because there's no 5th class!")

Arriving in Algiers, I looked up the Christian Committee for Service in Algeria. There Dr. Hellstern met me with the words, "You weren't supposed to come!" Nevertheless, he helped me to board a train to Constantine, and finally I reached my place of work, Zoui. To my surprise, there was a Christmas card from the chairman of MCC, Dr. C. N. Hostetter, Jr. waiting for me. It was a welcome affirmation that I was supposed to be there. Algeria had just gained her independence the previous year from France after a bitter war. Most of the professional people had left, since Algerians were now in charge. I saw a lot of evidence of the war, and sensed a lot of pain and bitterness. I worked in the clinic in Zoui a little over a year. Before I finished, and the clinic closed, Dr. Hans Arbakken (the new head of CCSA) came to see me and personally thanked me for coming.

Instead of traveling directly home, I wanted to visit my former roommate from Messiah College, Rene Hege, who lived in France. I had a great time visiting him and his family in Wissembourg, in the province of Alsace. His French Mennonite family lived just a few miles from the famed Maginaux line of impregnable fortresses built by France to protect itself from the Germans as WW II was threatening. (That effort to protect France had proven futile against Hitler and his "blitzkrieg" army). Rene was my guide in riding the three levels of subways and seeing the Louvre in Paris, as well as attending the French Mission in Paris one Sunday. I also spent some time with another friend, Hans Jacob Galle in Germany, and then returned home in December 1964. Later that month I was able to attend my only Urbana Missions Conference, an unforgettable experience.

After returning to Lancaster County, I worked at Lancaster General Hospital as a resident physician, then joined Dr. Paul Leicht in his practice in Elizabethtown, and later, Dr. William Bovard. In 1964, I began dating Edna Long, a nurse who had graduated from Harrisburg Hospital. Our friendship blossomed into our marriage on August 27, 1966.

Soon after our wedding, the Mennonite Central Committee asked us to go to Haiti for one year (they hardly ever sent out workers for one year). There I became medical director of the hospital at Grande Riviera du Nord, a government hospital run by MCC. We had good relationships with many people.

After finishing our term in Haiti, we relocated to Lancaster. There our son, David, was born on December 12, 1967. I took charge of brother John's practice in East Petersburg for three months, while he was in Africa. After John returned I believe that I also assisted in surgery for some of the physicians at LGH for a time. One evening in our apartment in Manheim I received a call from Dr. John O. Hershey asking me to be the physician at the Milton Hershey School (the previous physician had left rather suddenly). I accepted and we moved to Hershey. We had an apartment at "Applehurst" and had a chocolate-brown station wagon to use. I did the school physicals and was in charge of the dispensary for the students, located in the old Hershey Hospital. I remember that I did the physical exams on the first black students admitted to MHS when they integrated. After about three months our visas for India were approved and we prepared to leave for India.

Although the overall reason for my decision to go to India was the call of the church, another reason was my reticence to stay at home and pay taxes for the support of the war in Viet Nam. Later, as we had occasion to meet students on the trains of India, we were much impressed that they felt that the United States was the aggressor in that war. (And of course, after the war, evidence of a lot of deceit regarding the war surfaced, from the Gulf of Tonkin incident to the bombing of Laos). As earlier I was allowed to serve in Jordan and Algeria in alternative service to the military, I felt that as a privileged citizen I should be held to a higher standard than most Americans---that I should be willing to accept a lower living standard and be generous in sharing my means with the multitudes who are suffering. I felt that our American foreign policy tended to favor business and militarism which gave us Americans economic privileges.

Even today, as a citizen who disavows the United States reliance on military might as our security, and the great expenditure on war in Afghanistan and Iraq (possibly a third of a trillion dollars), when a tiny fraction of that might cure some horrible diseases and help to change the economic landscape in many suffering parts of the world---I feel that I cannot just go along and live like an average American. As I read the New Testament, especially Matthew 25, I cannot believe that Jesus would commend our efforts to be comfortable like those around us, when our neighbors in many countries are starving.

David was nine months old, not yet crawling, when we left for India in September 1968, via air. We stopped several days in Israel since that was an opportunity to visit again the Holy Land (which Edna had not seen before). I was a bit disappointed since we were not able to go into Jordan where I had lived for over a year in the early 60s. When we landed in Bombay, India, we were told that we could not proceed to Calcutta (where Lowell Mann was waiting for us) until Edna's visa was amended to include son David. There was no way we were able to contact Lowell, so we just had to find overnight lodging and hope to have the visa work done the next day. Providentially, all of that was accomplished and we flew on to Calcutta, arriving on a Saturday morning and finding Lowell, who had met several flights before ours arrived!

We did some shopping in Calcutta and visited the MCC office. In those days one had to have a "bister" (bedroll and sheets, etc.) for sleeping on the train overnight. As I recall, there was hurried shopping that afternoon and a mad rush through the streets of Calcutta by taxi until we were safely aboard the night train to Madhipura. Edna and I were very germ-conscious at that time, and for that trip to Bihar we energetically wiped down the walls of our train compartment with the Indian disinfectant, Dettol. That was the first time, but soon we no longer bothered to do that!

As usual, those Indian trains, with their coal-burning steam engines took a lot of time and had a lot of waits during the night. Lowell bought us some breakfast eggs, toast and tea about 9 a.m. Esther Book and Erma Hare, Rev. Surrendra Rai and Joy Christian and his wife were there on the Saharsa station platform to meet us! Then we proceeded on to Madhipura. Late that Sunday afternoon the church had a small, but warm welcome service for us and later, a fellowship meal which was served above the laundry area as it was raining. I recall, as I was preparing to give a short greeting in the church service, explaining how we felt "called" to come to India, that I quickly changed my words as I thought: "These people will not understand that I, a rich American have given up anything!"

We were settled in the guest house with a lovely large room and bath. David began to crawl the day we arrived in Madhipura! Edna wrote: "Perhaps we could say concerning our first impressions of India--- rich and poor are here --- not mostly poor like Haiti. We can see similarities in some things, only the problems are bigger because more people are here." We were amazed at the number of people who just sleep on the streets of Bombay. We looked around the compound and noted that Lowell and Anna Jean have a garden with sweet potatoes, beans and corn planted. The hospital seemed more organized and cleaner than in Grande Riviere in Haiti. Edna wrote, as she finished Monday's air letter on Tuesday, that I (Henry) had done a few I & D's on Monday, so we must have begun some work rather soon.

Before we left for language school, we spent several weeks in Madhipura visiting all of the surrounding mission stations and meeting all of the missionaries. We also studied Hindi with Pastor Surrendra Rai, from Saharsa. He had been an instructor at the language school in Landour.

Our train trip to language school consisted of two days and two nights with a brief time of rest at Lucknow, where we awaited train changes. We learned the "ropes" in dealing with the coolies and began learning patience in traveling in India. In the language school at Dehra Dun we were introduced to other missionaries studying Hindi, the main language of North India. We had a small apartment on the language school compound, took our meals at the main school dining room and juggled the care of David with individual language tutors, usually sitting outside in the sun to take advantage of the warmth.

We had the opportunity to visit Herbertpur Christian Hospital, about an hour's drive from Dehra Dun. This had been founded by Dr. Lehman, an ophthalmologist who is, even today, remembered by the locals who call the hospital Dr. Lehman's Hospital. Our family of three was invited on that first visit by Dr. Lehman and our letter home reveals that David broke a lamp in their home, and Mrs. Lehman was very gracious about that!

Later, we would study in Landour. This was an hour's drive further up in the hills, at Kellogg Church close to Oakland Cottage where the Brethren in Christ missionaries would come for summer vacation. As at Dehra Dun, we would have tutors (one per couple) and sit outside around the church, about a stone's throw from Oakland Cottage.

Edna and I took our first year of Hindi study and passed the exams. As the time for the leaving of Lowell and A.J. Mann was near, we headed down to Madhipura on May 10, 1969. We were traveling on a coal-burning steam train with a one-and-a-half-year-old boy, a large black Labrador and some supplies from Landour: peanut butter, cheese, and dried milk. We had a short time overlapping with Lowell and Anna Jean before they left for the United States. Edna expressed our feelings well in a letter home: "We can easily be overwhelmed by the task before us, but our trust is in the Lord." And Edna recalls that she felt very much alone as the Manns pulled out from the Madhipura station on the night train. As we were expecting our second child, we discussed where Edna should go for the delivery. Raxaul Hospital, near the Nepal border, seemed to be a good choice, but it was 6 hours away by jeep; we prayed for wisdom and decided to stay at Madhipura. When Edna went into labor, I was the physician and Leora Yoder the nurse. Daughter Deb arrived on October 15, 1969, a healthy, active baby! Her brother, David, was one of her first visitors.

Before we arrived in India, Miss Leora Yoder had been there for several decades, some of those years in Saharsa where there were no physicians, either Indian or foreign. She had served in Madhipura for 10 years, during the entire service of Dr. and Mrs. Lowell Mann. During our entire stay in Bihar, this veteran nurse-midwife was our stalwart, unselfish co-worker. She could be depended on to do all the deliveries at the Madhipura Hospital (especially for the first several years of our service there). Later, we encouraged her to allow the other RNRMs to take turns in delivery, as she was on call 24 hours besides doing consultations with most of the ladies in the clinic. Leora was our Superintendent of Nursing and the one who insured that the facility was clean. She would occasionally rub her index finger above a doorway to check on dust in the hospital. She would take criticism from nurses and other staff. One of her sayings was: "You can't let your feelings stick out to get hurt." Leora would will a struggling newborn to live by rocking him in her lap in the delivery room and singing to him (and I am sure, praying at the same time). I don't remember her ever complaining.

As our children grew older, we knew that we would all soon face the time when they would need to leave us and go away to boarding school. Edna started preparing David by some early homeschooling. Then, when he was five, he was enrolled at Woodstock School and we made the trip with him--- two days and two nights of traveling on the train from Madhipura. All too soon it was time for Debbie to go also. You can imagine how hard it was---having our children so far away! Our prayers were always with them, and we knew the Lord was with them also. We wrote letters often, and sometimes even included a paw print of their pet dog, Prince.

Since early in our term in India there was no other physician at Madhipura Hospital, I was unable to visit the children during the school year. But during summer holiday, Edna would travel to Landour, take the children out of Woodstock Boarding School, open up one of the 3 apartments in Oakland Cottage, and be a Mom to them for a month or two. I looked forward to spending about 2 weeks of vacation with them before the holiday was over. We treasured those times of being a family again. We would walk down the mountain path to school together in the morning, and hike back up the hill in the afternoon. When my vacation time neared an end, I would go alone down the hill and take a taxi to Dehra Dun, catch the train to Lucknow and eventually back to Madhipura. It was lonesome as I crossed the fields to the hospital compound at Madhipura.

I can't fully mention here the many unforgettable experiences of our almost nine years in India, and the wonderful and beloved friends and co-workers God provided for us---as well as the blessing of a multitude of people who prayed us through our days there. We returned to the United States in 1977, leaving part of our hearts in India. However, in 1990, we returned as a family, and had a wonderful time renewing those friendships and giving David and Debbie opportunity to remember an important part of their lives.

Upon our return from India in 1977, I worked in family practice in Elizabethtown until my retirement on September 15, 2001. A lot of my patients were in nursing homes, especially in Manor Care where I was medical director. Like other doctors in Elizabethtown, I frequently made home calls. I was also school physician in Elizabethtown for many of those years, doing school physicals, sports physicals for the Boys' Club, and attending home games as the team physician. Retirement has been filled with further opportunities---being a volunteer physician at Water Street Mission, working toward victim/offender reconciliation through LAVORP (Lancaster Area Victim/Offender Reconciliation Program), participating in the Elizabethtown BIC Relay for Life team which raises money for cancer research, and continuing to be active in the Elizabethtown Brethren in Christ Church. Edna and I also keep in close touch with Madhipura Christian Hospital by e-mail. We have had the privilege of visiting India twice in the last five years.

Edna and I treasure family times with David, his wife Lois (Yoder) and their sons, Will Henry (born 3/21/04) and Bradley David ( born 4/19/06), who also live in Elizabethtown.

Debbie and her husband Gerry Groening reside in Brandon, Manitoba, Canada, with Zachary David, (born 4/11/03) and Abigail Edna Helena (born 10/25/04). We have had the delight of frequent trips to visit them and wonderful times together when they come to see us in Elizabethtown.

(The following excerpts are from an e-mail written by Henry on February 5, 2006).

"I think you remember I had chemotherapy for a lymphoma of the stomach over 3 years ago. It has been a wonderful 3 years, and I thank the Lord for good health for all those years. I recently underwent some more blood studies and a bone marrow biopsy and found that I (now) have acute myelogenous leukemia. Because of my age, the potential side effects, and the minimal advantages predicted for chemotherapy, that course is not recommended in my case, although periodic blood trans- fusions are offered."

"Most of all, I appreciate that God is ever present with us, promising to never leave us. At 75 years of age, I have no cause to complain?I so much appreciate all the expressions of sympathy and love." Having demonstrated to us a life devoted to serving God, Henry now showed us how to die. He spent his last year giving time, love, and much prayer to his family, Elizabethtown Church family, and his friends locally and at Madhipura Hospital in India. He prepared his obituary and planned his celebration service. As his strength waned, he continued to be an inspiration to those who visited him until his peaceful passing into eternal life early on Monday morning, November 22, 2006.