Janette Oke

by Laurel Oke Logan

  The twins went directly to the regular nursery where they were duly fussed over. The nursing staff there was not used to caring for twins. Multiple births were typically underweight and cared for in the preemie nursery. Janette was certain that hers got special attention, especially from one nurse in particular.

  “You’d think she was their grandma,” stated one of the other nurses one day, sounding a bit peeved at all the fussing.

  Edward was thrilled with his new sons. When he came to call, he spent more time at the nursery window than visiting Janette, but she didn’t really mind.

  “One will be my pianist,” he exclaimed, “and the other my hockey player!” That in itself proclaimed Edward’s two greatest loves: music and sports.

  They named son number one Lavon Craig and son number two Lorne Douglas. Janette quickly forgot her disappointment over not getting her girl. In fact, she soon decided that twin boys was really the only sensible way to go.

  Janette had crocheted two little sweater sets. She had embroidered little flowers on the fronts of the sweaters—one in blue and the other in pink. Now, as she lay contentedly in the hospital bed, she carefully removed the pink flowers and replaced them with blue as well.

  The babies progressed splendidly and were taken home at the usual time. On the day they left the hospital, Janette dressed them in their little garments, complete with the two little sweaters and caps, and then bundled them up in their new blankets.

  Just as she left her room, she heard someone call, “Come see the Oke twins going home.” The corridor filled with nursing staff. Even the floor supervisor came from her office. Later Janette wished she had taken a picture. Here were her babies, ready to go home, and their mother could not even get near them as the nurses oohed and aahed and bid the babies good-bye.

  Janette could hardly wait for Terry to get a look at his two new brothers. Jean and Orville brought him home, a new rattle in each of his hands as gifts for the new babies. He was thrilled. Even though he had just celebrated his third birthday and had been the sole attraction in his home for all three of those years, he never did seem to resent the new babies. He claimed them immediately, occasionally trying to take over their care.

  Even so, at times both Mommy and Daddy were occupied with a baby in each set of arms, and when visitors came there was always a fuss made over the new little pair. Terry never did take it out on the babies, but he did have his own way of stealing some of the spotlight.

  One day, Uncle Jack and Aunt Laurine came to see the new arrivals. While they were there, Terry and Uncle Jack were having a visit together. Terry loved the farm, and Uncle Jack was a farmer.

  “You like cows?” Terry asked during their little chat.

  “Oh yes,” said Uncle Jack. “I like cows.”

  “Then close yours eyes,” said Terry, who had already developed the habit of praying about everything.

  At this time, Janette’s Uncle Jack, who had been like another father to Janette, was not a professing Christian. Many years would pass before he did make this commitment.

  Terry closed his eyes, folded his hands, and asked God to send Uncle Jack “lotsa black cows.”

  “Just a minute,” Uncle Jack stopped him, “I have brown cows.” The uncle prided himself in his registered Herefords.

  “Oh,” said Terry, without concern. “Then close yours eyes again.” He corrected his prayer. But when Uncle Jack and Aunt Laurine arrived back home, they found one of the Hereford cows with a little black calf trailing along at her heels. It was dubbed “Terry’s calf,” and the joke in the family for many years was, if you were serious about wanting something, have Terry do the praying.

  On another morning, when Janette was ironing and Terry seemed to be having a difficult time finding something to do with himself, he finally decided that what he needed was a playmate and that he would go to his friend Karen’s house. So Janette stopped her work and bundled him up.

  The morning was dark and cloudy, and though he really wanted to find the courage to leave the house, his first glance outside brought him back.

  “Mommy, it might snow on me.”

  Janette put aside her iron and went to assure him that it was not going to snow, that it was just a cloudy day, and returned to her work.

  Soon he was back. “Mommy, will you take me to Karen’s house?”

  “No, Mommy can’t go,” she answered. “I have to stay with the babies.”

  Janette watched him start toward the door again and then turn back. “Mommy, please, will you take me to Karen’s house? And then you can run right back home again—fast—to the babies.”

  Again Janette set down the iron and walked to the small boy. Crouching down and drawing him close, she soothed, “Mommy can’t come. But Jesus will go with you.”

  His face brightened at the thought that followed. “Mommy, you come with me and let Jesus take care of the babies.”

  She laughed, hugged him, and wondered how she could explain that he should trust God when it seemed to his little mind that she was not willing to do the same. How would he understand that Jesus had given her the responsibility to guard the twins in those early days, and also the difficult task of teaching the little boy to turn his trust from her to the infinite God he could not see?

  “Honey,” she asked, “would you like us to pray and ask Jesus to go with you?”

  “Uh-huh,” he murmured, still uncertain.

  Together they prayed, and then Janette reached over and opened the door while the little boy walked slowly out into the cloudy day.

  “Mommy will be at the window,” she called to him, and the little boots tramped quickly down the street, stopping at the corner for a wave toward home.

  In the weeks that followed, Janette often repeated the story of Terry’s struggle and was finally prompted by June to write it down. She tucked the completed pages away, along with several other things that she had written and wondered if, perhaps, someday she would be glad she had kept them.

  For the most part, raising the twins was easy. After having one colicky baby, two good ones were a snap. She alternated feedings: one on breast, the other on bottle—then the reverse. For the night feedings when one awoke, Edward or Janette woke the other as well. Edward gave the bottle while Janette breast-fed. Though they were both weary, the nighttime feedings became a time to catch up on the chatting they could not find time for during the day.

  In the early months there was daily laundry, but for the first time in their married lives, Edward and Janette had an automatic washer and dryer. The grandparent Okes had just moved to a new house and had purchased a new set. Edward and Janette were bequeathed the old one and were so thankful for the two wonderful machines, just perfect for a family with twins. Even with the extra work, they would not have traded the boys for anything, and Edward was convinced that every family should have at least one set of twins.

  Perhaps the most difficult trick was getting the twins ready for anything on time. Janette enjoyed dressing them alike, but as surely as they were about to walk out the door, one or the other would spit up or manage to mess his outfit. That meant changing them both and yet be on time. It was especially difficult on Sundays. But then, Sundays were one of the few times Janette and the boys did go out.

  When the babies were close to three months, they both developed severe colds. Janette thought Lorne was the sicker of the two until she lay Lavon down and saw that he was beginning to turn blue. She continued holding him until Edward returned from work, then bundled him up and took him to the emergency room.

  Lavon was admitted immediately with pneumonia. While there he was given medication after medication, but nothing seemed to have any effect. Edward had a responsibility to be at a college retreat out of town and Janette had intended to accompany him. But the family doctor frankly warned Janette not to leave town. He wanted to be sure she was close enough to call if things suddenly took a turn for the worse. Of course she canceled her plans and stayed nearby.

  All
they could do was to hope and pray. Yet Lavon didn’t seem to respond. Days passed into weeks, but the medicine wasn’t helping. Finally they called some friends who were in the ministry and made arrangements for them to visit the hospital room together to pray over their small son. Almost immediately he began to improve. God had again answered prayer, and soon they were able to take him home to a twin brother, who was very happy to see him; they had been apart for three long weeks.

  Lorne was the impatient one—even as a newborn. When he wanted something, he wanted it right then. He would lie on his tummy, his head thrown back so he could peek over his bassinet, and scream at the top of his lungs for Mother.

  Lavon was much more content to wait. So he usually was cared for after his brother. Janette would whisper to him, telling him what a good boy he was and how much she loved his patience. Of course, he was still much too young to understand her words, but she hoped he picked up her tone of voice.

  Edward was often gone because of his role as college president, and consistently those occasions fell over Sunday. It was difficult for Janette to get three small boys to church alone. There didn’t seem to be a good way to do it. Which twin did she carry in from the car first, and what did she do with him when she went back for the other? She certainly could not carry both of them in at once, plus their diaper bags.

  Then there was the service. Church nurseries were not as popular in those days. There was a small room at the back of the sanctuary known as the “cry room,” where a fussing baby could be taken, and this is where Janette usually spent her time. One or the other twin could be counted on to be too noisy for the service.

  She sometimes wondered why she even bothered to go, and then reminded herself that, hopefully, they were developing in their little family a lifetime habit of church attendance, if nothing else.

  It was fun to watch the twins grow. They were not identical—only confusingly look-alikes. On at least one occasion, when one of the toddlers had seen himself in the mirror he became excited at seeing what he thought was the other twin. At first his parents failed to realize what all his excitement was about until they heard him call the reflection by his brother’s name.

  Their roles together developed and changed over time. First, one would seem to take over leadership of the pair, and then they would switch. But always, they were very close. Lavon was able to keep a little ahead of Lorne in size, but even that was insignificant.

  They were quite different in personality. Lavon made friends with people quickly, while Lorne was shy and reserved. Edward’s father, Grandpa Oke, used to worry about it. He came to see the twins frequently, often on his lunch hour, for Grandmother was teaching school and he was alone at noon.

  “Poor little Lornie,” he said to Janette. “Lavon will always get the attention.”

  But his prediction was not fulfilled. Lorne had a quick wit and was soon using it, and after some time he gradually outgrew his shyness as well.

  Grandpa Oke loved to watch the boys wrestle together. They were like two little bear cubs as they rolled around on the floor. If one should be accidentally bumped a little too hard, the game would stop while his brother hugged and consoled him. Then they would go back to their rolling again.

  They did play well together. In fact, Janette was sure they could have lived in a world composed of only the two of them and been perfectly happy. But they enjoyed big brother Terry, too, and he got along well with both of them.

  As often happens with twins, Lorne and Lavon developed their own system of communication long before they could communicate with the rest of the family. In their shared bedroom, one twin was in the crib and the other on the bed. There was also a tall chest of drawers in the room. Since neither could reach the top of the chest from the floor, it seemed to be a safe place for Janette to store any items she did not wish them to have. But the crib was on casters, and the boys soon discovered a way to get all the toys, tissues, and other goodies way up high out of reach.

  When they awoke from their naps, they jabbered back and forth, and then the first twin from the bed pushed the crib over to the chest while twin number two stood in the crib corner ready to reach the treasures as soon as he was within striking distance. When he had possession of the things from the chest, he willingly shared. It took only a few such excursions before the casters were removed from the crib, and their scheme was thwarted.

  Lavon still wheezed like an asthmatic sufferer from his earlier bout with pneumonia, especially when he cried. Because of this, Janette was told not to take him for his immunization shots until he was at least two, and that she should wait for Lorne’s shots as well.

  By the time the boys did go for their shots, they were old enough to converse, and by the second trip, they could remember what was going to happen.

  “Who’s first?” the nurse asked. Lavon was chosen, and he took the nurse’s hand and followed her toward the door. Everyone in the waiting room chuckled when Lorne called after him, very seriously and emphatically, “Don’t you cry.”

  The boys grew into busy toddlers and soon developed a terrible attraction to the telephone on the hall wall. Over and over Janette had reprimanded them about leaving it alone, but there was Lavon at it again. He had dragged a kitchen chair to the spot and was methodically dialing someone—likely in Siberia or Hong Kong. Janette scolded him again and took the phone away from him. Then she told him to put the chair back in the kitchen.

  To her surprise he looked up and said, “No.”

  He had never directly defied before, nor had he shown a streak of stubbornness. On that day her patient, compliant son was like another child.

  Janette insisted. Lavon refused. She threatened. He balked. She spanked. He defied. She spanked again. He remained stubborn. Then, in the middle of the confrontation, there was a knock at the kitchen door.

  “You wait here,” she told her errant son—and he did.

  It was Grandpa Oke at the door. “Dad, I’m sorry but I have a battle going on here,” she told him and briefly explained the situation.

  He did not ask to come in, just turned and started to walk away. “Keep at it,” he called back over his shoulder. “You’ve gotta win.”

  Janette knew that it was true, but how she hated it. She had to keep reminding herself that it was better for her little boy to have a sore bottom now than a ruined life later. She prayed and fought back the rising tears, but she spanked until Lavon gave in, pushed the chair into the kitchen where it belonged, and then threw himself into her arms for forgiveness and consolation while they cried together. He never openly defied her again.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Complete

  Though she loved her boys dearly, Janette still wanted a girl. She had concluded that “if I’m staying home with three—it might as well be four.” Then the process of ordering their little family would be complete.

  When the twins were twenty months old and Terry was four, she got her wish. “It’s a girl, Janette,” came the announcement, and the nurse held up the newest addition for Janette to see. A little girl arrived in July of 1965, and was named Laurel Judith, after Judy Yoder, who died while Janette and Edward were at the Beulah Missionary Church. And she outdid all her brothers, weighing nine pounds and fourteen ounces.

  Janette could hardly believe it. It was really a girl, and she didn’t even remotely resemble the boys, especially not the twins. They had been long and rangy; this new baby was short and plump, with little arms ringed with baby fat. Janette had a hard time convincing herself that the new baby was really hers.

  In her mind, she had envisioned a tiny infant. Since this was to be the last baby, she wanted to keep her little for as long as she possibly could—but she was not starting out even looking like a newborn, and from there Janette watched her grow quickly and steadily. The July birth date brought her home just in time for camp meeting, which was hosted at the Bible College. During her first week she was bundled up to be shown off and fussed over by many people who knew and
loved her parents.

  Reverend Geiger was the special speaker, and after one service, his wife slipped over to the house to take her turn holding the new arrival. In her hands she held a package, a gift for the new little daughter. While Mrs. Geiger snuggled the baby, Janette folded back the wrapping to reveal a delicate white dress set off by small blue butterflies all around the hem. She could just picture it. How fun to finally have a little girl to dress up!

  Laurel was a good baby, and that was just as well. Janette was not sure how else she could have managed with two energetic twenty-month-olds, plus a going-on-five big brother. She had three in diapers for a period of time—enough to keep any mother busy, even with an automatic washer and dryer.

  Now there were three little ones and a not-too-cooperative five-year-old to get ready for church on Sundays, so Janette made sure that everything was ready and laid out on Saturday night. Shoes had to be cleaned, clothes laid in proper order, and coats ready to go. There would be no time in the morning to look for missing items.

  All the boys loved their new sister, who was usually happy to sit in a baby seat or lie on the floor and watch them play. Janette’s days were full and busy, and all too soon the early stages of childhood slipped away, making room for growing up.

  By the time Laurel was one and camp meeting rolled around again, Janette was ready to show her off properly. She had purchased a beautiful powder blue, multi-layered dress, complete with beadwork and matching crinoline. The pudgy baby in the fancy dress now needed only one thing—a hair bow.

  Unfortunately, Laurel was still without the required hair. Undaunted, Janette gracefully taped the tiny ribbon to Laurel’s fuzzy head and set out for camp meeting. Friends laughed—but Janette didn’t mind at all.

  Margie’s husband, Wilf, was also working at the college with Edward. This meant their family lived close enough to stop in for coffee or for the children to play together. One thing Janette could always count on about Marge, no matter the hour, no matter what she was busy doing, a visitor was always welcomed as though she had been invited and Marge had been expecting her.