
country living in Sanger
I was in a very dark place at the end of our time at the Belmont house. This continued in Sanger. I was still barely aware of what was happening around me. The healing period took several years. I was still in a problematic place spiritually in that I felt that Heavenly Father had permanently rejected me. I continued attending church because I knew that if I quit, it would also affect my family’s future attendance. But I did not believe that I was capable of receiving salvation when this life was over.
While living in Sanger, we rented a home on a 5-acre lot on McCall Avenue. The landlord also kept a horse named Poky there. Poky had been left in the pasture because she was not considered trainable for riding. We didn’t know enough to think otherwise. Poky became a part of our lives, but we knew nothing about horses. We had 4 1/2 acres of pasture. We turned the pasture over to our sons to care for and rent out to local farmers who needed extra space for their cattle. The rent money was the kids’, but so was the irrigation job. We had 40 cows and a bull. We are city folks who know nothing about cows. And there is no “Cows for Dummies” book. We used to watch, hoping nothing would go wrong, while the calves were born.
Our dog, Sarah, used to hide in the grass and wait for the bull. She would jump out and startle the bull, who would then chase her. She liked to live life on the edge. One time, the cattle got out of the fence and started down McCall Avenue. We didn’t know what to do. Our neighbor showed us that if we lead the first cow in the line by the ear, the others will follow. Using this method, everyone got back to the pasture. There was a break in the fence that the property owner refused to repair, so we discontinued our pasture rental. We certainly couldn’t afford to replace the entire fence, which the landlord expected us to do.



We adopted a dachshund puppy, Carmen. She also had a brother who was not very smart and was unlikely to be adopted, being the runt of the litter. He never grew long and skinny like a dachshund. We also adopted him and named him Leonardo or Leo. While he wasn’t smart, he gave a lot of love. They were both with us for 17 years. Carmen considered it her mission to look after her brother.
As I healed, I became more functional and was called to be an assistant to Jim Christiansen, the High Priests’ Group Leader at church. I enjoyed my time working with him. At my suggestion, I was moved from being his counselor to becoming his executive secretary. They were always making decisions in the dark. Attendance and other data were entered into the computer months late and it was impossible to determine where and how much support people needed. As I moved to secretary, I could ensure that information was current and available when making decisions. Later, Jim told me that my suggested move to secretary was the right move. The entire presidency was more effective with usable data. I love Jim. He treated our family generously, as you will see with our move back to Fresno.
Money was very tight during this period. Kathy and I still honored our date-night tradition on Fridays. Since there was no money for going out, we would go to our bedroom. We cooked a special dinner and a treat and took it to the bedroom. We then sequestered ourselves in the master bedroom to have dinner and dessert while watching movies on our TV. The kids were instructed that we were not to be disturbed unless the house was burning down. If anyone called for us, they were told that we were out at the movies.
We lived in Sanger for four years. Our credit rating steadily improved, enabling us to qualify for a home loan. When we decided to move out our landlord took advantage of us. He did not accept our efforts to clean up after we moved and charged us for professional cleaning. He had the property’s trees trimmed and charged us. When he replaced the 4-year-old carpet we were charged the full cost. We ended up with more than $3,000 in charges when we moved out. But we got to find a place that would be ours.

The story of Kathy & Ron Goodlad
© 2025 The Goodlads
