The Rev. Timothy J. Hayward
When asked to provide a biography of one’s journey through life, it is always an interesting exercise in trying to figure out how much to share for a given occasion. My ministry at Sheffield United Church over two different time periods, are very central to who and what I am in service to God, to my family, to the church and to the community. But how I got there is also part of the journey and I tell it as part of who and what I am in the long and faithful life of worship, witness and work of Sheffield United Church.
I was born in Soldiers Memorial Hospital in Orillia, Ontario, on February 10th, 1949, a second son for John Hayward and Helga Skat Peterson. Over the next seven years, two sisters and two more brothers (twins) were added to the mix, making for a family of six kids.
My father was the United Church Minister on the Longford Pastoral Charge, just outside of Orillia, a two-point charge that also included the United Church on the Rama Reservation. I have no recollection of life there as we moved to Sundridge, Ontario, at the end of June 1949. I do have memories of life there as across the road from our house we could see the transition of the last of the steam locomotives to the first of the diesel locomotives as they pulled into the Sundridge station. Also, the Sundridge manse was a lake front property on Lake St. Bernard.
Sundridge is also the place I did something pretty stupid, an act that could have cost me my life. There was a driveway that sloped down to the lake just before the business section. A target was set up down by the shore and the men would have target practice with their 22 rifles. We kids loved to get our hands on the empty shells, and one day I ducked down to pick some up. The problem was, the ones I was trying to get were in front of the gun rest from which they aimed at the target. Someone was settling into their shooting stance as I went to pick up some empty casings, coming right in front of him. Fortunately he wasn’t ready to pull the trigger and he pulled his rifle up immediately and even though I didn’t realize it at the time, his verbally lambasting of me was done out of fear more so than out of anger. But I got the message! He never informed my parents and it was quite a few years before I shared that story with them.
In 1954, we moved to Keady, a country hamlet just south of Owen Sound in northern Grey County. I began my education in the one room school there and while I have memories of a good life there, it was the beginning of tough financial times for us as a family, although it was kept well hidden from us as children. One day, when I was seven-years-old, I, and probably my sisters, went with my mother to get eggs from one of the local farms. When we returned home, before going into the house, I looked through the kitchen window from the veranda, and asked my mother, “Why is Dad lying on the floor?” We were told to stay outside while Mom went in. My memory is fuzzy on how things happened from then on but an ambulance arrived and eventually we learned that Dad had been taken to Toronto. He had suffered a massive stroke at the age of 39.
Presbytery decided to re-align the pastoral charge, which allowed the congregation to generously allow us to live in the manse until Dad was able to move on. Mom and Dad really appreciated that gesture having a young family with very little income and the youngest being the twins who weren’t even a year-old at the time. I remember when Dad returned home that he knew we were his children but he couldn’t remember our names. I also remember that we received a number of gifts, but the one I really remember was our first television set! Now that was exciting!
After three years of recuperation, Dad felt he was well enough to try doing ministry again. We moved to another hamlet by the name of Rocklyn, south of Meaford, still in northern Grey County. Before we moved, the people of Keady gave us quite a send-off with a pot-luck supper at the church, followed by a presentation of many gifts, items that helped enable Mom and Dad to set up our new home. There were gifts for us kids as well. To this day, Mom has never forgotten the generosity of those people.
I had a really good three years living in Rocklyn, although that is when I began to hear the question about following in my father’s footsteps, to which my reply was without a doubt, “You’ve got to be kidding!” It was there that I started working on a farm during the summer, working during the haying season only for the first couple of summers. For a couple of years after we moved from Rocklyn, I still came back for the summer months to work on the farm. That was when my love and affinity for the farming community really became embedded in whom and what I am.
Dad never really fully recovered his ability to do the work of ministry, with his preaching suffering the most. He also had a dream of becoming a chaplain in the mental health system, mainly to serve at a mental institution. To make this happen, in 1962 we moved to Toronto, moving into the home that my Hayward grandfather had built in the early 1900’s, a house that my dad’s single sister was still living in. While Dad went to Hamilton during the week to take the course, we settled into adapting to city life.
The high school years were difficult for me. While I had had a good education in the country one room school houses, I was considered to be someone different in Forest Hill Collegiate, the school I attended in Toronto. There was also a huge social chasm created by their financial status versus ours. There was also a culture divide as well. However, I found a form of acceptance when I joined the football team and was good at it as well. All of this was part of the reason that it took me seven years to graduate from high school. The other part was that I really didn’t like applying myself to learning at that time of my life, although I learned later that I had taken the wrong courses but really didn’t have the guidance to do otherwise. Maths and sciences were very strong in the Hayward family, and that is the route I thought I should take, but ending up doing very poorly at it. It was when I was studying for ministry that I realized that it was in the arts that I could do well, but having a purpose might have been even more important.
In 1973, we moved to Cambridge where Judy taught as I finished up my studies at Guelph. Upon graduation in 1974, I was hired by Weber Poultry Farms in Kitchener, a job that lasted only 8 months as the main farm was within city limits and had been bought for Ontario Housing, if my memory serves me right.
It was during this time that I discovered I could no longer say, “You’ve got to be kidding.” Judy and I bought our first home, giving up an opportunity to go to Scotland with my cousin and his wife on a house exchange program. The Scottish gentleman was involved in the university system in Scotland and he was in Ontario to visit various universities. They asked if they could stay with us while he visited the universities in the area. They were with us for four days and on the last day, they took Judy and I out for supper as a thank you. During the meal, he asked if I knew what I really wanted to do with my life as he didn’t see me as a chicken farmer for the rest of my life. I acknowledged that he was right, but before I could say anything more, Judy quietly stated that it wouldn’t surprise her if I went back to school and entered the ministry.
That began a journey that has brought me to today. For after the shock of Judy’s statement passed by, it had the effect of challenging me through the next couple of years of responding to that challenge. To this day, Judy will tell you that she had no idea that she would say such a thing. She hadn’t even been thinking it. She was a city girl who was content to be married to someone whose plans were to be involved in some kind of agricultural endeavour. But that was not meant to be, and we can only say that God intervened through her.
The Call was solidified with my being appointed to Sheffield United Church as a Student Supply Minister in 1977. My six years in Sheffield, until Ordination in 1983, are fondly remembered for the love, support and friendship of a congregation that journeyed with me and grew with me as I learned and matured spiritually in what it meant to be a Minister of the Gospel. It was six years in which we saw two children added to our family, Heidi and Joshua, a sister and brother for Tara Jane. Heidi was, we believe, the first baby ever born to the Manse, and if not the first, the first in a very long time.
I am still moved by the memory of how many Sheffield people were present the night I was ordained by Hamilton Conference, June 5/1983. Three weeks later, we were given a tremendous good-bye as we prepared to move to Northern Ontario to my settlement site. I still work at the mahogany desk made by Olav Vollmers, that the congregation gave me.
I served the Pioneer Pastoral Charge (4 points then 3) from July 1/1983 to June 30/1986. While there, the birth of Joel completed our family. We moved to the Chesley/Dobbinton Pastoral Charge, Bruce County, and served there until June 30/1990. Then we moved back to Northern Ontario, serving at St. Paul’s United Church, New Liskeard, from July 1/1990 to June 30/1996. And then for some strange reason, the people of Sheffield United Church issued a Call, and I answered that Call with a move back to Sheffield where I served from July 1/1996 to February 11/2007. Since then, I have been serving at Grace United Church, in Trenton, Ontario.
A lot has happened in those years of ministry. There are many highlights and to be honest, there have been a few low lights too. But for the most part, my ministry journey has been rewarding and I can only hope that I have served God well. As I enter the twilight of my career, I can safely say that Sheffield holds a special place in my heart, partly for it being where it all began. So I thank the people of Sheffield United Church for being part of my story, for it wouldn’t happen without them. Most of all, however, I thank Judy, my wife and best friend, who has given a lot of herself to support me and make this journey with me. And I would be remiss if I didn’t thank Tara Jane, Heidi, Joshua and Joel, our kids, who have never failed to try and keep me humble, reminding me of my foibles in the midst of my strengths.
