IN MEMORIAM

Valerie Norris
1938-2023

 

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Teach me to live, that I may dread
the grave as little as my bed.
Teach me to die, that so I may
rise glorious at the judgment day.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
praise him, all creatures here below;
praise him above, ye heavenly host;
praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen

Thomas Ken (1674)

 

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Valerie, from the remembrance of her life given by David at the Funeral Service on 28th June, 2023

The year was 1938, Hitler had come to power in Germany, and there was an air of foreboding hanging over many countries, not the least in Volhynia in what is now western Ukraine, then under Polish rule and before that part of Russia. It was September 24th and in one house in the little village of Zamostyszcze, which was populated with many ethnic German settlers, there was rejoicing. To the Krampetz family, to Adolf and Mathilda, was born a baby girl whom they named Valerie. Lovely long dark hair, her father used to say, sweet face. The birth was registered first not with the authorities, but entered in the Church records. Valerie’s uncle had built a wooden Church there after the style he had seen in Canada in which the Lutheran Church then worshipped. Valerie and I saw it when we visited the village some years ago. It is still standing although used now as a community centre and not a church.

The happiness was short-lived in July 1941 as Hitler’s troops entered western Ukraine. I will spare you the details, the consequence for the Krampetz family is that they were moved off their small family farm, carted off to a camp to have their ancestry examined and be eingebürgert, or naturalized, as citizens of the German Reich. No one dared resist. They were then settled in new farms that had been taken from their Polish owners in the village of Wielenin in the Wartegau area in central Poland. We visited this village too, but without letting on to the friendly folk we met our connections to the place.

By September 1944, it was becoming clear Germany was losing heavily so that Hitler established the Volkssturm or “peoples’ storm”. Males between the ages of 16 and 60 years, who were not already serving in some military unit, were conscripted. Valerie’s father was caught up in this and landed on the eastern front but was soon taken prisoner by the Russians. His escapades alone would make up a book on its own. His lot in the POW camp was alleviated somewhat by his own craftiness and the fact that he spoke fluent Russian.

At the end of 1944 the Germans still held the western half of Poland, and their front was still 200 miles east of where it had been at the start of the war in 1939. The Soviet offensive began on January 12, 1945, launched first against the German front in southern Poland. By January 17, 1945, Warsaw had been captured after it had been surrounded; and on January 19 armoured spearheads drove into Łódź, uncomfortably close to the Wartegau area. Mathilda Krampetz was not going to risk falling into Russian hands and so loaded the whole family onto a horse-drawn covered wagon and set off through the bitter cold winter weather and the risk of being killed by enemy activity, hoping to reach Holland. As they travelled bridges were being blow up behind them. The Russians were close on their heels and they risked being sent back, possibly even to Volhynia. Dead bodies lay strewn at the roadside as they travelled. Valerie said she saw headless bodies. Eye witness accounts say that mothers tried desperately to give milk to dead babies frozen to their breast. Valerie would have been around five years old. Such sights and memories remained with her: how they dived into roadside ditches at the sound of aircraft who did not spare the sad trail of fleeing refugees and how her oldest sister Ita lay on top of her to protect her; how Waldemar, an older brother was lost for several days. For six months they trekked westward. Valerie was all her life very conscious of the providence of God in the preservation of her family

The family ended up in Wardenburg, near the town of Oldenburg in north west Germany and were billeted on unwilling farmers who regarded them not as Germans but as ‘dirty Poles’. It was in the British zone and to the puzzlement of the recipients of their kindness, friendly soldiers feeling sorry for the refugees, made tea and brought it to them for breakfast in the morning. Father Krampetz was not there and a brave mother cared for her children in frightful conditions, God bless her memory! Adolf Krampetz was found eventually by efforts of the Red Cross, I believe it may have been in the fifties. Valerie was at school when she was told: your father has come home! She ran home from school excitedly and barefoot to meet her returning Dad.

Despite difficulties that would have crushed lesser people the Krampetz family were able eventually to build their own home. Brother Daniel even started his own business. Oldest sister Ita moved to England. Two older brothers, Adolf and Waldemar moved to Canada for better prospects than were to be found in a broken postwar Germany and Valerie joined them there just for a couple of years. Valerie trained first as a seamstress, but then went to Handelschule, Commercial school, to improve her prospects. She took a job in Bremen working for an estate agent.

Family Krampetz belonged to the Lutheran Church. Apart from the regular Sunday services, mother Mathilda was a regular visitor to the weekly Bibelstunde or Bible Study. Valerie sang in the choir. However, Valerie was something of a mischievous child so that she almost got herself removed from the choir and the Pastor had concerns about admitting her to confirmation. It was at an evangelistic meeting where Valerie, still a teenager, committed her life to Christ. She told me that was just the first step for her. A young colleague where she worked was want to bow her head in prayer before eating her lunch. This testimony impressed Valerie greatly. The girl was from the Baptist Church where Valerie eventually became a committed member.

In Winnipeg Valerie had worked for the Mennonite ‘Christian Press’ as a proofreader. When she returned to Germany, she studied at a short-term Bible School: Major Ian Thomas’ school Klostermühle. From there she spent a year in Berlin as secretary to Bill Yoder, leader of the Christian youth organisation in Germany, Jugend für Christus, ‘Youth for Christ’. Wanting to study further she applied to a college in Lamorlaye in France, just north of Paris, which is where I met her and where we both studied alongside each other for three years.

Now, do not tell me there is no such thing as ‘love at first sight’. I was totally smitten as soon as I set eyes on her, besotted even. She was easily the prettiest student in the place and I was enthralled by her amazing German-Canadian accent – and of course important she laughed at my very silly jokes which she probably didn’t understand anyway. More important than the personal attraction, we both had the same commitment to Christ, and a desire to serve Him and we thought much along the same lines on things spiritual. She told me in later years that I helped her at that time to see things more clearly and to come to a certain assurance and knowledge of the Lord Jesus. After graduation we went for a trip through Germany with my mother and father who had come across for the ceremony and on the trip, we were engaged on 11th June at Cochem on the Mosel river. It was exactly 57 years ago and we were married in October of that same year. A real romance.

Most of you will know how things emerged from then on, so I will not go into any great detail, time does not permit. We lived with Valerie’s parents for a while so that I could learn German. As well as German I learned what a cesspit was, how to make hay and lead a ploughing horse up the field. You will know how we were afterwards involved in Christian work in Austria and Germany. With time we felt we could not continue with that involvement and should return to the UK. Although opportunities to take on pastorates presented themselves to me on several occasions subsequently, I did not and do not believe I was personally suited to such a calling.

I would like now simply to say one or two things about her as a person, illustrating them from our life thereafter. 

Valerie was loving, a caring mother and wife, hardworking, generous to a fault, determined and she would set her hand to almost anything that came her way and everything had to be done perfectly. She helped me mix concrete and her tiling is perfection. Like many good mothers she deprived herself to provide for her family. She cared a lot about the family. Valerie produced things from nowhere when we were hard up. She worked hard in the garden to grow food for us to eat. She looked after chickens and turkeys. She fed and clothed us and mended clothes others would have thrown out.

I never heard her complain ever about anything, nothing, not even my cooking. Diagnosed with Parkinson’s, she took it stoically. When she fell and broke her leg nothing negative ever came from her lips. She was extremely grateful for any help.

Valerie was very good with money. I was invited to a Bible Society conference in Toronto to speak about language and Bible translations. They seemed to appreciate my contribution and so next year I was invited once more. This time Valerie came too as some of my friends there were anxious to meet her, probably because I couldn’t stop talking about her! She went on ahead and visited her brothers in Winnipeg joining me later in Toronto. Before we departed, she suddenly produced a considerable wodge of money she had stashed away and I remember in those days we had a very hand to mouth financial existence. How she did I do not know to this day.

If I slacked, she was very much ahead of the game. I came in advance to UK to look for somewhere to live leaving her and the family in Germany. As I had not come up with anything, Valerie decided to chase after me. She arrived in England and announced, she had only got ten days and in that time, we had to find somewhere to live. Which she did. The half derelict properties in Mount Street destined for demolition that are now our renovated home along was up for auction with about half an acre of ground. We went to see the vendors and made an offer acceptable to them over the heads of the estate agents who were then infuriated. That was Valerie.

Valerie had always had to defend herself and it moulded her character and made her what she was. I admired her tremendously for this. When a youngster at school there was animosity between the refugee kids and the farmers’ children. One lad tried to grab hold of her. Valerie’s response was to grab hold of him by the throat and throw him over one of the desks much to the amusement of the rest of the class.

After about four years in the country, I felt the need to improve myself and my prospects. As I was fluent in the German language and liked German literature, Valerie suggested I study German at university. I had picked up a few GCEs along the way, but needed an A-level German. I took this whilst still working selling carpets, at which I seemed to do well and it brought us a very decent income for the first time in our lives. I was as usual thinking at a lower level, but Valerie said no, try Birmingham University. I was doubtful of my chances, but not Valerie and I was accepted. She encouraged me throughout until I got my Master’s degree.

She did exactly the same for her children, phoning universities or suggesting jobs they could apply for. That was Valerie.

What is not always recognised is that Valerie herself was a highly intelligent woman and conversations with her could ascend to esoteric levels whether it was about theology, literary subjects or even sometimes history. She never had any desire to go to university, had she done so, I have little doubt that she would have excelled in her studies. Her command of English was outstanding and she spoke the language better than many native speakers, even if she had retained a light German accent now mixed with a slight Midlands twang.

She was a prolific reader in both languages and would often read books that appealed to her over and over again. Above all she read her Bible, far more than I ever did. Many regard the language of the Authorised 1611 Bible as obscure and inaccessible, I have always questioned this. With English not her first language, she mastered language of the 1611 Bible with ease and read the works of the Puritans. She for a long time sunk herself in the works of John Bunyan in the 17th century English language of the author. She revelled too in the language of Luther’s translation of the Bible.

Attached to our bedroom is Valerie’s sewing room. She spent many hours at a time there not sewing, but reading the Scriptures. She knew the English Authorised Version inside out and if I stumbled at a quotation, she would often complete it word for word perfect. She was a walking concordance. As is said of Bunyan, if you pricked her with a pin, she would bleed Scripture verses. She also spent a lot of time in prayer. If I walked into the little room unexpectedly, she would get up because she had been on her knees praying. Above all she would pray for the salvation of those she whom she knew and loved, but also uphold me her husband before the Lord.

In the last years and months of her life when she could no longer read and her already impaired cognitive abilities had deteriorated, she insisted I read to her the Scripture calendar we have, the Daily Light passage for the day and a Scripture portion. Then we would pray for friends and family and minsters of the Gospel. If I missed anyone, she would quickly remind me. We also prayed the Lord’s prayer, a practice I shall continue.

This appalling sickness drew us closer to each other and closer to God. Many times, in the face of very little helpful advice or help, I was crawling up the walls in despair as to what to do next. We would pray together and an answer would be found. If my faith was wobbly at times, Valerie’s never was. She was indeed a rock, a solid one at that. When I was depressed and at my wits end, she would say: pray to the Lord Jesus, He will help and He always did. I miss her for that. O how I miss her!

The day she went to be with the Lord, I made her a pasta dish. Don’t forget the cheese on top she said as I left the room. Then in the kitchen I heard her calling my name, very softly, David, David. But when I got there, she had already gone. A second or two before she was there and had called my name, but now she had gone, but where? She left her body behind an empty carcass.

If you think all that is left of Valerie is in that wooden coffin over there, then you are badly mistaken and remember, we must all pass that way. No one sets out on a journey without first making sure they know where they ae going.

Death is like a door, opened by the Saviour, entrance to His Father’s house where there is a mansion, eine Wohnung, prepared especially for her by the Lord Himself. I am not going to grieve for her or mourn. I shed so many tears over her in her bed. Sometimes, I shall doubtless still weep much when I am reminded of her because I shall miss her and love her still. I am glad for her; she is in a far better place than I am and I shall follow her there. She will not return to me, but I shall go to her.

Valerie believed passionately that Jesus would return, perhaps even in her lifetime, but clearly this was not to be. She lived very much in the light of this belief. In the spirit of Valerie’s unshakeable faith, I quote Job 19:25-26

“For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.”

 

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