The Bredenhof Immigration Experience

In the same line as the last post, I’ve also uploaded a couple of chapters from my late grandfather’s book By Grace Alone.  Here he describes his experiences coming to Canada from the Netherlands.

The Gospel Under the Southern Cross (1)

Tomorrow a long time dream of mine begins to come true.  When I was a kid, one of the things I found really cool about my Opa Bredenhof was that he had written a book.  The little book was about his 1977 visit to Brazil.  This was in connection with his work as the secretary of Mission Aid Brazil.  In connection with that, Opa would also often send me stamps from Brazil (he knew that I was a stamp collector).  I remember receiving large yellow envelopes covered in stamps.  Inflation was crazy in Brazil back then and so mail from Brazil to Canada would require outrageous numbers of stamps.  Especially because of my grandfather and his great love for the Reformed mission work there, I’ve also been deeply interested in the progress of the gospel “under the Southern Cross.”

Tomorrow morning I’ll be setting off for two weeks in Brazil.  This is technically part of my summer vacation time.  I’ll be using it to visit the mission work in Brazil and do some teaching.  I’ll be teaching a couple of courses in apologetics at Instituto João Calvino and the Reformed Reading Room in Recife.  I also hope to have the opportunity to preach in some of the churches, including the church at São José which my grandfather visited long ago.  I’m really curious to see if any of the people he mentioned in his book are still there.

Anyway, I will be posting regularly here on my blog about my time there.  I won’t be writing a book, but hopefully this series of blog posts will help you get a sense of the great work still being done by our Saviour in north-eastern Brazil.

And, by the way, Opa’s book has a lot of pictures.  In one of them, you’ll find one of Maranatha’s current missionaries, Rev. Julius Van Spronsen.  He was already there back then — the son of the former missionary, Rev. C. Van Spronsen.  Lots of connections between the past and the present!

W. H. Bredenhof (1922-2010)

This past Wednesday my grandfather, Wicher (Bill) Hendrik Bredenhof, was promoted to glory by his Father in heaven.  A devout Christian all his life, our family is comforted with the gospel of free grace that he embraced.  He was 88 years old and dearly loved by family and friends.  The funeral will be held this coming Tuesday at 1:00 PM at the Langley Canadian Reformed Church.

Here and here you can find some of my Opa’s wartime stories, excerpted from his autobiography, By Grace Alone.

This is Opa with his second-oldest son, Jake.

Opa with our youngest daughter in August of 2009, shortly before we moved to Hamilton.  He dearly loved both his grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  We were all his favourites.

Opa and my step-grandmother with our youngest.

My sister has also posted some beautiful pictures and tribute to Opa.  We’re all going to miss him so much.  We already do.  We were so richly blessed by God to have such a wonderful, godly grandfather.  Soli Deo Gloria.

Remembering

Today is the day we remember and give thanks for the sacrifices made by Canadian soldiers in times past and present.  We should never forget the bravery of these countless men and women, nor should we take their efforts for granted.  Our freedom has come at a cost.

Last year (on the old Xanga Yinkahdinay), I shared some of my grandfather’s wartime experiences.  My Opa (W.H. Bredenhof) fought in the Dutch underground during the Second World War.  Today, I’d like to share some of what he wrote about the end of the war.  It’s rather anti-climactic compared to last year’s account, but it’s true to life.

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In March of 1944 we slowly moved in to the front zone.  Day and night there were Allied planes in the sky; not by the hundreds but by the thousands.  We didn’t see German planes in the skies anymore.  They were finished.  Sometimes the German flak artillery was quite active.  More than once falling shrapnel fell only a few feet away from me.  Several people were killed by it walking in their own yard.

But now another problem started to bother me.  I had a serious infection in my right thumb.  Night after night I couldn’t sleep.  It was a special infection  where the bone grows out of the thumb.  The pain was unbearable for many weeks. Of all things!  We could now finally attack the enemy openly and in full force and I was stuck with a hand that was 3-4 times its normal size.  Finally, I went to the doctor in Genemuiden on April 14 and he sent me to the hospital in Zwolle for an operation.  In the first town there were still German soldiers, but when I came into Zwolle I saw the first Canadian scouts.  Under the knife I went.  Two hours later I was released and went from Zwolle back to Genemuiden to present myself for duty.  It would be the crucial day.  My officer thought that I wasn’t fit for duty.  Well, I thought that I could persuade him otherwise.  But before we got into action the pain came back worse than ever.  The doctor advised me to go back to the hospital in Zwolle.  On the road to Zwolle the Canadians and the Germans were fighting not that far away.  A few stray bullets hit ground not too far from me.

In the hospital I had another operation and the surgeon told me my thumb couldn’t be saved and he also feared for my hand.  I told him to do what he had to do.  The Canadians were there and I was still alive.  Thousands didn’t make it that far.  I didn’t get out of the hospital that day.  My ward had several wounded French Canadians as well.  It was much to my surprise that I could feel my hand later.  It was still a greater surprise when four days later I could feel my thumb.  Then they couldn’t hold me any longer and sent me back to my unit.  My trigger finger worked perfectly.

I took part in the mopping up operations.  Some of the Germans were fanatical.  Some were in hiding, but a light machine gun did wonders.  Many Nazis tried to get away in civilian clothes to Germany.  We caught many.

That is in a few words the experiences of the last few months of the war.  Of course, it isn’t all.  Would we put everything on paper, that alone would fill a book.