Margaret Woelk

Other Events:

• Name: Margaret Zeller
• Eby ID Number: Waterloo-264558

Notes:

MEMORIES - BY Margaret (Woelk) ZELLER May 12, 1987

Tucked away in our subconscious minds we all have memories. God put in us recordings of emotional experiences. The good, the bad, the highs, and lows. Experiences where we have won, where we have lost. Some of them we had no control over which we shall never forget. All of these are part of our make-up.

My background is of Dutch and German origin and my religion was Mennonite. Menno Simons was a Catholic priest in Holland. In the year 1536, he converted to the faith of Annabaptist. His followers came to be known as Mennonites. A religious persecution followed. Believers met their death by downing, burning at the stake, and other cruel methods. They fled from one country to another.

My forefathers fled to Prussia, now Poland. In due time Catherine the Great of Russia opened the doors of her country and in 1789 they immigrated into that vast country. They pioneered in a treeless area. They were a hardy group. They formed into colonies. The colonists were farmers but in German fashion, lived in village comprising of about fifty families to each village and each village about five miles apart. They were promised religious freedom and liberty but were not allowed to make converts out of members of the Russian state churches. They were also granted a large measure of self-government. A separate state within a state. Religious instructions held a prominent place in the schools. The schools were conducted in the German and Russian languages. Each village had their own mayor.

My grandparents were ambitious, hard working folks. Alongside of farming, they also operated a thatched roofing business. My father was their only child. He married my mother out of a large family whose parents brought them up in the fear of the Lord. Among other things it was a custom for each girl to be given a course in dressmaking before marriage, which proved to be a great help to my mother in later years. In this union, my parents were blessed with twelve children of whom five died in infancy or early childhood. Father was a strict, stern disciplinarian. His word was law in our household but he was also kind and lovable, especially if we behaved. With one brother and six sisters in tow, we made up a happy, sometimes scrappy group. I remember one event while in combat with one of my sisters, mother caught us in the act and we were ordered to kiss and make up. Imagine at a time like that as we stood glaring at each other \endash to kiss. But my peace loving mother stood her ground and kiss we did. Basically mother was a kind and gentle person, a born again Christian. Mother loved to sew pretty clothes for us and on Sunday mornings before Sunday School, people seeing us in different shades of dresses, called us "Woelk's flower garden".

We attended a Christian German school. The first hour was religion. At home, devotion time was in the evening. Father was always up at the crack of dawn to manage the large estate. Mother had her hands full managing the house, cooking for the family and hired help. Father provided her with a nanny for us.

I loved to read. Our school library had good books and I made full use of them. At home I was called a bookworm. One time when I still was a child, I was assigned to stir a soup containing milk. With a book in one hand, the other hand forgot to stir. The result was a burned soup and a spanking.

Those were carefree, happy days but they came to a sad end. Rumors of unrest in Moscow reached our ears. Moscow was a long way from our peaceful, lovely village. A revolution broke out. The Tsar and his family were arrested and shot to death in a most brutal manner. Rebels invaded one city or village after another, looting, killing, torturing, raping. By the time I reach the age of nine, they arrived at our village. We were in constant flight, hiding in our nearby bush. One memory stands out clearly. We did not have time to flee that day. My oldest fourteen year old sister herded us all into the nearby outhouse. We dared not speak for fear of being discovered. After counting heads she discovered our little three year old sister missing. She was out there crying and calling for us. Elizabeth dared to step out and pick her up. God in his mercy protected us. Immediately we all scampered out, heading for the woods to an old cottage nearby. Our mother was there bathing my nineteen year old brother's face which had been beaten up by the rebels.

Another memory in October. One day, all the children of the village were sent to school for protection. Another band had arrived. Mother hid in a tiny building where ashes were kept. Father had followed but because of the intense cold had gone back for his jacket which was his undoing.

In the meantime we children at school stood at the windows witnessing a horrible thing. A young, lame man was being chased by a horseman, hacking into his body with a saber until he collapsed and died in front of our house. I had many nightmares over that incident. At that same hour my father was shot and killed in the barn while fleeing. Mother collapsed and was taken to the hospital. We felt like orphans. I wandered from the school to our house. The rebels were gone. Forlornly I made my way to the barn, saw the pool of blood, fearfully went back into the house and saw my 45 year old father's body lying out and a bullet hole in his chest. Kind neighbours took us into their homes and that same night we witnessed a nearby village go up in flames, painting the sky red. It was a nightmare. My father had to be buried at night because of daytime invasions. A few days later our mother came home. We crowded around her like lost sheep. How well I remember that dear, sad face. Most of all, those clear, blue eyes lifted up to heaven. There was an expression in there I didn't understand. I only know I felt comforted by it. Later on I understood. It was her strong faith in God. The revolution was over.

Next came the famine.

Because of the robbing, we were stripped of nearly all provisions. We were left with one cow and one old horse. Most of our clothes were gone. Mother did all she could to keep us from starving. She used the little flour left and mixed it with sawdust, and baked bread. Since the cow was needed for milk, we slaughtered the old horse. I remember the unpleasant odor of horsemeat cooking. When that was gone, we began to starve. It was winter. People were dying by the hundreds. It was had to keep burying the dead. An epidemic of malaria fever and typhoid broke out. My oldest sister caught that disease. I remember barely being able to walk and at that point I wasn't hungry any more. My stomach was bloated, nothing seemed to matter. I knew I was dying.

Then help came.

The Mennonites of America, Canada and Holland heard of our plight. Provisions were sent in the form of flour, rice and canned milk. Kitchens were set up. Bread was baked and rice was cooked adding the milk. Lineups were formed. Each received one bowl of rice and one slice of bread per day. We also received much needed clothes. God never comes too late. Praise His name!

Then spring came.

A few aces of land were left to us. It needed plowing. There was no horse so how could we plow our land? My brother knew. Our cow had to be trained to pull a hand plow. I don't know why, but he chose me to help train her. The cow was very rebellious. She refused to budge. I pulled with all my ten year old strength, then she lurched forward; leaving me sprawled all over the ground. I picked myself up and caught up with my brother and the cow along a very crooked furrow. The whole procedure was repeated until she learned to walk the line without me.

Mother started a dressmaking business, training my oldest sister to assist. My brother took up tanning. Since we had no shoes, he made us wooden sandals, using his own leather for straps.

At the age of twelve, I was sent to a wealthy family, about ten miles from home, to babysit. How I missed my family. A few months later I was sent home walking all the way. Half way I stayed the night at my aunts. The following day, nearing our village, a terrible thunderstorm broke out. A wet, bedraggles Margaret arrived home. I had earned one, 100 lb. bag of flour.

Immigration came next.

Arrangements were made for many families to immigrate to the U.S.A. and Canada. It took two years for the committees to obtain permission to leave. We sold what little we had, and our farm, using the money to pay our way as far as England. At the age of fourteen, my family and I made our way to the train station. We boarded cattle cars along with many other families. With tearful goodbyes to those who stayed behind, the train slowly pulled out. "God be with you 'til we meet again", was sung by all. In due time we crossed the border from Russia to Latvia. We were free. No more fears. The future looked bright. The people burst into song, thanking and praising God.

We arrived at and crossed the North Sea to England. There we were detained for physical examinations before boarding one of the largest ships, The Empress of France. In ten days we arrived at Quebec. There were about one thousand passengers. Separation took place. Some chose to go west and others to Ontario. We chose the latter. We were taken to Waterloo, Ontario with many others on a passenger train on August 9, 1924. The Mennonite Church on Eby Street welcomed us warmly with coffee and buns. Once more our family was separated temporarily. Later I was placed in a home with Mr. and Mrs. V.L. Cober on Samuel Street. They were the kindest, dearest people. I was with them for several years. They could not speak the German language. Sign language was used. I have those wonderful people to thank for my rapid learning of the English language as well as breaking me off of any trace of a foreign accent.

I remember one of the first days. I was setting the table and dropped a spoon. Mrs. Cober said "Don't pick that up". I listened to that foreign remark. She pointed to the spoon and said "Spoon" and that's how things began. Sign language stopped and the real thing began. In the printing shop, I helped Mr. Cober. He taught me how to set type, take out the letters, putting them in their proper place and thereby learning how to spell. The money I earned went toward the debt we owed the C.P.R. who paid our way from England to Canada. Every cent was accounted for.

That winter I went to night school at K-W Collegiate along with two hundred other students from all walks of life. I blossomed into young womanhood, in love with Canada and all it had to offer me. I hounded the library weekly, learning how to spell harder words.

How I was saved.

I was not Christian. I knew my mother prayed for me. She never pushed and I respected her for it. I did get gentle nudges like one time as I was getting ready for a date, she would say, "Margaret, if you would only let Jesus cleanse your heart the way you are polishing your nails". The Holy Spirit was at work but I argued: I 'm too young. I have lots of time. This happened on several occasions, each time I resisted.

I grew older and became more serious-minded. I longed for a more meaningful life, for something deeper. I had resisted the Holy Spirit so often; perhaps it was too late for me. Then one day I opened the bible and there I read in John 6:37 "Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." This time I would not resist.

I was going with a nice young man at that time, but he was also not a Christian. He could not share my feelings so our ways parted. I wanted peace more than anything else. Before I came to Christ, I tried to be a better person. The harder I tried, the more I realized how really bad I was until one night in despair; I knelt at my bed and sobbing cried out \endash "Forgive". That was all that was needed. How can I describe the joy and peace filling my heart? I felt so clean. I was born again. I stood at the window looking up into the starry sky, thanking Jesus who had saved me and I thought of the Bible verse: "Joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth". On my night off from my place of work, I raced home to tell my mother and there was joy all over again. I am so glad it happened when it did because three months later, she became seriously ill and went home to be with the Lord.

I was anxious to serve the Lord. I gave up housework and applied for a job in a shirt factory to enable me to sing in the choir where I sang for many years. I loved children and wanted to teach in Sunday School but my knowledge of the Bible was a minimum. I applied and was accepted at the Mennonite Bible Institute in Winkler, Manitoba. In three years, I graduated and had the joy of teaching many years at the Mennonite Brethren Church as well as at the Benton Street Mennonite Church. Time went on. I was in my 30's \endash time to think of the future and build up my meager bank account. I applied for work at J.M. Schneider's and was doing so well for three months. Along came Corny Rempel who at that time was a manager of the Mennonite Central Committee. The Ontario head office was in Waterloo, a large three story building. The first floor was for office use and residence for the Rempels and the next two floors for living quarters for office staff and depot workers. They were in need of a matron for these young people. I was asked to fill that position to the tune of small wages, room and board. Just when I was doing so well with my bank account. I told Corny I would pray about it. That night, I searched the scripture and the answer in Romans 12:1 \endash That ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God which is your reasonable service, be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good acceptable and perfect will of God - I knew I had to say yes, trusting God for the future. I'll never regret those wonderful years of a busy, blessed, happy life.

As to my future.

Along came Stan Zeller. I met him through one of the M.C.C. workers. After three days, he asked me for a date. I said I had to think it over. He was a widower. It took him a while to get up enough courage to ask me again. He came with a huge box of chocolates. We had a very nice time. He asked me out again. I hesitated \endash he insisted \endash so I said "All right, once more". That once more, turned out to be a lot of once mores and within a year we were married at Benton Street Church. I joined this church and am so happy to be a member. Stan proved to be a strong, stable, dependable and honest husband. Any faults he had were overshadowed by his good points.

My Hobby

After all the years of hard work, I found I had too much time on my hands. I discovered I had some talent in oil painting and enlisted at Mr. Kousal's studio for art lessons. I spent many a pleasant hour indulging in my hobby.

The last ten years of Stan's life were trying ones. Due to poor circulation, he experienced a great deal of pain. He had to undergo a six hour operation. A bypass was put in to save his leg from being amputated. In a years time, the pain reoccurred. He feared the worst. Peace came at the scripture reading in 1 Peter 1:5. "Kept by the power of God through faith, that the trial of your faith being much more precious than of gold that perisheth". The amputation took place. Stan took this along in his stride. He learned to walk and drive the car, even on several trips to Florida. Our lives were serene and quietly spent. Then one evening as I was preparing a light lunch for him, he had a massive stroke. He sat beside me and I caught him in my arms and saw him slip away from me to be with his Lord.

How did I cope?

At first I experienced numbness. Then a calmness settled over me. I knew I was being carried on wings of prayer by many Christians. After the funeral was over, the full realization of a life alone without Stan took hold of me. It meant co-operating with this new life. The acceptance of God's will in the midst of many tears helped so much. God's precious word has been a constant source of comfort and strength. Keeping very busy was good and thinking of others.

God does not let these things happen to hurt us but rather to draw us nearer. Jeremiah 31:3. He loves, He cares, and He is all in all.

He never fails the soul that trusts in Him.
He never fails.
Tho' disappointments come and hope burns dim.
He never fails.
Tho' trials surge like angry seas around
And testing fierce, like ambushed foes abound
Yet this my soul with millions more was found
He never fails.

Cemetery, Doon, North America, Waterloo Municipality, and Doon Cemetery. 1910. " Margaret Woelk Zeller (1910-2001) - Find A Grave...". Findagrave.Com. https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/79260633/margaret-zeller.

Margaret — Stanley Zeller. Stanley (son of Menno Zeller and Ellen "Elly" Baer) was born 7 Apr 1903, Kitchener, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada; died 30 Jul 1986, Kitchener, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada; was buried , Doon Presbyterian Cemetery, Doon (Kitchener), Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada. [Group Sheet]

Other Events:

• Eby ID Number: Waterloo-257423

Jacob — Aganetha "Agnes" Braun. Aganetha was born 23 Feb 1876, Lichtenau, Molotschna, South Russia; died 19 May 1931, Kitchener, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada; was buried , First Mennonite Cemetery, Kitchener, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada. [Group Sheet]

Other Events:

• Name: Aganetha "Agnes" Woelk
• Eby ID Number: Waterloo-262644
• Residence: 1931, 18 Hilda Place, Kitchener, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada