Lois Belveal Blockhan, otherwise known as The Hat Lady, is shown with her daughter, Leslie Anderson, who helps her mother with vendor opportunities. Both women are wearing hats created by Lois herself. (Courtesy photo)
By Steve Bertel
Reminiscent of Laura Ingalls Wilder and her hardscrabble “Little House on the Prairie” life, Lois Belveal Blockhan also grew up on a prairie. “We had no electricity, no running water, no telephone. And we hiked three miles every day to our little one-room schoolhouse; it didn’t matter if it was raining or snowing,” she remembered. “If it was really stormy, then my dad would haul us in a covered sleigh.”
It was the late 1930s. In remote North Dakota. And Lois was the second oldest of seven children. But hers was far from the idyllic life Laura Ingalls Wilder led in the “Little House” books and television series.
The children occasionally stayed overnight with their grandparents, who lived several miles away. For most of the kids, it meant an evening of fun and entertainment. But for Lois, it meant her grandfather would be taking her alone into a room and sexually abusing her. Again. “It began when I was about five, and continued until I was ten,” she said. “But I never reported it. He bribed me and threatened me, so I never said anything. Plus, in those days, children were told to keep quiet” – following the 15th century English proverb, “Children should be seen, but not heard.”
What’s more, her own father was an alcoholic. “He’d drink as often as he could – which was quite often. Beer, hard liquor, it didn’t matter. He’d buy booze and hide it, but we knew what he was doing.”
So Lois left home at age seventeen, took a three-day train trip to Mount Vernon, Washington, and moved in with her sister.
And first, life was good. But then, likely because of the trauma she had suffered at home, Lois began drinking. Not heavily. Just a drink here and there with her young friends.
And she found love. Or so she thought. The man she married turned out to be “a controller,” as she put it. “In his eyes, I could never do anything right. I couldn’t think for myself; I couldn’t express myself. I had to explain to him how I spent every dollar he made.” And he was abusive; often viciously beating and kicking her.
The couple met several times with their church pastor to discuss their strained relationship. “But I was afraid to tell the truth to our pastor – or to anybody,” Lois admitted. The reason? Her husband was a well-known and well-liked local firefighter; he had friends in the police department and friends at city hall. She figured no one would believe he was an abuser. The couple even met with a marriage counselor. “But the counselor said my husband didn’t have any problems – that I was the problem. So it got to the point where I was being blamed for all the difficulties we were having,” she said.
Eventually divorcing, Lois lived in Boise for a short time – after attending another sister’s Boise wedding – then moved to the San Francisco Bay Area. Again, life was good. In fact, much better than before. She became a very successful licensed realtor, selling high-end homes and properties in ritzy neighborhoods.
But the pressures of both the high-stress job and of raising three children on her own began to take their toll. And her drinking accelerated. “I could out-drink most of the people I went out with – clients, business associates and the like,” she recalled. What’s more, her flexible working hours as a realtor only exacerbated what was quickly becoming a serious alcohol problem. “I’d start drinking about three in the afternoon and would drink about a gallon of wine a day!” she said. “Pretty soon, I was at the end of myself. I was often so spaced out, I could hardly leave my home. I couldn’t work because my drinking was interrupting everything.”
Finally, a friend recommended she enter an Alcoholics Anonymous program. So she did. “I remember, in one group discussion, the instructor told us even those with very emotional mental disorders can get well – if they chose. And that, to become sober, you must choose to become sober and choose to be honest with yourself. I looked around the room at the others and wondered, Which of those people is he talking about? Well, it wasn’t long before I realized one of the people he was talking about was me!”
A few weeks later, she attended an AA-sponsored Women’s Bible Study – a meeting that changed her life forever. “I got saved October 20th, 1977! God got a hold of me and completely turned me around!” she exclaimed. “Right away, God told me who He was. And right away, I started attending four Bible studies a week.”
But coming to know the Lord didn’t come without its challenges. “Shortly after I was saved, I was attending an Assembly of God church service, when the Lord told me to give quite a large amount of money, some $10,000. I knew, if I gave Him that money, I would only have about $3,000 left in my bank account. So I really struggled with that. To me, it was a test of faith. But it was the first time I had really heard from the Lord, so I gave the money. I was really connected to doing what was right.”
Her faith grew even stronger over the next decade. Then, in 1988, the Lord spoke to her again. “I got a prophecy in which the Lord told me, ‘Move to your hometown.’ I asked, ‘But where’s my hometown, Lord? I’m not moving back to North Dakota, because it’s too cold there.’ I had been to Boise before, so I decided to make Boise my hometown because most of my relatives already lived there.”
It became a fortunate move for Lois in two ways: first, because that’s where she eventually met and married John Belveal, a fellow Christian. “He was a great guy. So sweet. We got along so well together,” she fondly recalled.
And secondly, John Belveal was a hat salesman – and Lois made hats. “In 1999, God had given me the idea to start making my own hats. I have a very small head, so I could never find hats that fit me; ones I wore always felt like somebody else’s hat,” she said. So she gathered up some material, sat down at her sewing machine, and went to work. Together, John and Lois joined his marketing expertise with her creative drive and the two began selling her hats at expos, farmers’ markets, county fairs and, thanks to her website, all over the world. “I’ve even sold hats in Russia,” she pointed out. They made and sold hundreds of hats every year: specialty hats, Easter hats, summer hats. Hats with flowers. Hats with bows. Hats with lace and netting. Hats with big brims, hats with small brims. All original designs. And all with materials she’d find at second-hand stores, warehouses, and fabric outlets.
In fact, her hats became so popular, Lois soon became known in many circles as “The Hat Lady.”
Making hats not only provided a side income, it also became her ministry. “It opened doors. People would come up to me and say, ‘Oh, I really like your hat!’ – treating me like we had been friends for years. In the course of the conversation, I’d tell them ‘God gave me this hat business.’ And it went from there,” she explained.
Lois has also donated hats to the St. Luke’s Mountain States Tumor Institute in Boise and its cancer patients who, due to chemotherapy treatments, have lost their hair.
John passed away in August, 2018, after the two enjoyed fourteen years of blissful marriage. And although Lois was devastated, the Lord comforted her – soon bringing another man into her life, another strong Christian, a cowboy-hat-and-boots-wearing Cowboys for Christ traveling rodeo chaplain named Pete Blockhan. They were married on April 21st, 2021.
Lois feels Isaiah 43:18-21 best epitomizes her life, her faith, and her ministry. The Lord’s words read in part, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! … I provide water in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland, to give drink to my people, my chosen, the people I formed for myself that they may proclaim my praise.”
Today, at age 90, Lois has slowed down a bit. She doesn’t market her hats as aggressively as she used to – “I still sell some, I still give some away,” she said – and she and Pete have curtailed many of their rodeo circuit trips. But they stay busy. Pete works as a carpenter and maintenance man at the church they attend, the New Life Celebration Church of God in Emmett, and Lois can often be found seated at her sewing machine in the 14- x 16-foot design studio her husband built for her, making yet another hat. And hoping to minister to someone in need who crosses her path.
She also shares her testimony in front of various women’s groups, luncheons, and church gatherings. “I’ve titled my talks ‘From Victim to Victory,’” she said. “I not only tell my story, but I teach people the practical applications of the Word of God. We’re responsible for what we do, the decisions we make. It’s like a fenced yard: you open the gate and let the good in, and open the gate to let the bad out. It’s a matter of self-control – and God’s control. If you say, ‘I can do this, Lord, with your help,’ He’ll open the door.”
Looking back over her many years, Lois stated, “You know, God had his eye on me from the day I was born. When I was five, six, seven years old, I’d go to a church service and hear the message. Afterwards, I would be happy and cheered up. At the time, I didn’t understand why.
“Now I do.”
You can check out Lois’s hat website at www.hatstoyou.us.
Steve Bertel is a multi-award-winning professional radio, television, print media, and social media journalist, who retired after a 30-year broadcasting career. Now a busy freelance writer, he recently released his debut suspense novel “Dolphins of an Unjust Sea,” available on both Amazon and Kindle. Steve and his wife of 41 years live in Meridian, Idaho. He can be reached at [email protected].
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