A View from the Buggy (19 page)

This was the fun part. We clung to the bottles and the cute little calves wiggled their tails contentedly as they shoved and pulled at the nipples. It was as if they planned to swallow the foamy milk in two big slurps.

A few minutes later they were done and butted us for more. We yanked the nipples out of their mouths before they could pull the bottles into the pen.

After that chore was finished, I hurried to the shop to get a wheelbarrow of sawdust for the calves' pen while Elaine went to feed our pet rabbit.

Dad had unhitched his horse by now, and he greeted me with a hearty, “Good evening.”

“Good to see you home so early,” I told him. I set the old rickety, rusty wheelbarrow beside the equally rusty sawdust wagon and scrambled up and inside. With the pick, I hacked away at the frozen sawdust. I sang at the top of my lungs while I worked. It was a good way to keep warm in the cold weather.

At long last the wheelbarrow was full and I made my way back inside to dump the sawdust in the calves' pen.

When I went out the barn door again, I saw Elaine coming from the chicken coop. I hollered, “Are they done?”

“No,” she hollered back. “I only gave them feed and gathered the eggs.”

“I'll get the water,” I told her, and lugged the pail to the chicken coop. On the way over, the water splashed on my skirt and froze completely in the merciless wind. This left the lower part of my skirt stiff, cold, and awkward. I opened the chicken house door and rushed inside. The chickens greeted me in their own loud language and dived out of the way.

After I caught my breath, I picked up the dirty, frozen water bowl and took it outside where I threw it upside down. The ice only broke after I jumped up and down on the bowl. Back inside, I sloshed water in it and stood back to watch as the chickens rushed over. I always found it interesting how chickens tip back their heads and let the water roll down their throats. I often wonder why God made chickens that way. He's so creative, I suppose.

I heard Elaine call from outside, “Ruth! Are you about done?”

“Yes,” I answered. “And we still need to carry wood to the garage, but I'm going in to thaw my fingers and toes first.”

“Go ahead,” Elaine told me. “I'll feed the dogs while you warm up.”

I headed for the house where I stood before the old faithful woodstove. The warmth felt wonderful. It soon had me toasty again, and the smell of supper from the kitchen overwhelmed me. I pushed my hunger away and decided I should take a light with me when I went outside again. When I told Mom, she suggested I use the big flashlight we kept in the entrance.

“And hurry,” she said. “Supper's almost ready.”

I grabbed the heavy flashlight and met Elaine at the woodshed. We hung the light on a bent wire that served as a hook and proceeded to fill the big black sled with wood.

“We have to hurry because supper's almost ready,” I said.

“Well, good. I'm hungry,” Elaine said, quickening her pace.

After we had stacked the wood high on the sled, I picked up the twine tied to the front to pull and Elaine pushed from behind. I
strained with every muscle, bent over, but still it wouldn't budge. I stood to catch my breath. We consulted with each other but decided we didn't want to take off any pieces of wood. So we strained harder this time. The sled gave a sudden jerk and slid over the bump that must have held it fast.

Since I didn't expect such a quick start, I flew forward, landing hard on my face. The twine flew out of my hand and got buried under the sled runners. I lay on the ground for a bit until my face no longer hurt. Elaine hadn't fallen but she still had to gather herself together. She took a deep breath.

I rolled over and stood up. “Okay! Let's do it,” I said with renewed energy. So with many tugs and pulls we yanked the twine from underneath the sled runners.

“Now
push
!” I called to Elaine. We bent over double and made it to the garage. In no time we had the pieces in the wood box, but it was only half full. Another load was called for. After we thawed our fingers, we headed out into the cold again. We loaded and unloaded the second sled in much less time and with also less trouble.

“Let's go see if Dad's done with his chores,” I suggested.

“Good idea,” Elaine agreed.

We found Dad bent over the milk pail, nearly finished milking our only cow.

“Can we help with something?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “you can carry this pail of milk inside. Then I only have to give the horses hay, which won't take long at all.”

At the moment from outside the barn we heard Mom call, “Supper's ready.”

“We're coming,” Elaine and I chorused.

I grabbed the milk pail handle and we stepped out again. Huge, fluffy snowflakes now whirled thickly out of the darkened sky. The winds had died down and peace had settled on the land. Snow squeaked under our boots as we silently made our way to the house.
No one but God could make something so big and wonderful,
I mused.

Once inside, we shook off our snowy clothes and entered the house all red-cheeked. I took in the wonderful smell of supper again, which
Mom and my sister had now laid out—mashed potatoes, gravy, and our favorite meatballs. We took our seats and all eyes went to Dad, who sat at the head of the table with Mom seated beside him. Just to be home with my family and have this delicious supper in front of us was reward enough for all the hard work we had been through. This evening had been another of God's many gifts He sent us to enjoy.

My First Wash Day Alone

Maria Kay Bontrager

Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might (Ecclesiastes 9:10).

M
ARIA
,
WOULD YOU HELP
L
ENA WITH THE WASH THIS MORNING?
” Mom asked.

“Yes,” I said, and I dashed out to the washhouse where I found Lena already busy separating the clothes into their correct piles.

“Lena, I'd like to do the wash myself this morning,” I said.

Lena looked up at me with skepticism. “It's not as easy as you think.”

“I know it might be hard, but I'll have to do this by myself sometime,” I said confidently.

“Okay…I guess so,” Lena said. She left and I approached the washing machine with excitement, singing my loudest. First, I set the hose into the tub, but when I turned the hot water knob on high, the full pressure caused the hose to fly wildly into the air, showering everything…including me. I was
not
delighted.

But I told myself this accident had resulted from not being careful enough. My happy song was now forgotten as I turned the hose on slower this time. When the water behaved, I added a scoop of Tide. With that done, I rushed out to the shop for the jug of gasoline to fill the washing machine motor. I did so, and the motor which sat outside the house started after only a few tries. I rushed back inside to engage the agitator, only to find that the water in the tub had overflowed.

I shrieked and almost ran inside for help, but I didn't want to admit defeat. Instead, I sloshed through the inch-deep water and turned the hose off.

With a sheepish look on my face, I grabbed the broom and swept
the water down the drain, which eagerly swallowed up the mess. When I finished with the cleanup, I added a little more Tide. I then pulled the plug and the agitator willingly started, swishing the water and causing the suds to rise. I quickly dumped the first load of clothes in with a sigh of relief.

Then I turned my attention to the rinse tub. This time I put in cold water with two cups of softener and watched the water with sharp eyes. To prevent an accident I stood beside the tub, ready to spring into action and shut off the water when it was full enough.

After four loads of laundry, I changed the water. I thought I was doing pretty good. As each load was finished, I hung the clothes out on the line to dry.

The spring morning was gorgeous! The sun's rays had shone pleasantly since daybreak and a gentle breeze blew from the east. In our yard, little finches, sparrows, blackbirds, larks, and all kinds of spring birds sang cheerfully. Robins hopped all over the lush green grass as they searched for juicy, fat worms. I favored the outdoors and could feel its urgent beckoning.

I could hardly comprehend how good our great God was to give us such a wonderful season to enjoy. I began to joyfully sing praises to God again. I could hardly hold myself down, but I had to go on with the wash.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. I still had three more loads to go! I hurriedly stuffed another towel through the wringer, but something was wrong. I couldn't control my head any longer. Slowly I was being pulled closer and closer to the wringer! In a flash, I realized that one of my head covering strings had become caught in the wringer and in a matter of seconds my head would be there! Such horrible thoughts that flew through my mind!

With shaking hands I tore my covering off, not heeding the pins. I watched with horror as the covering was pulled closer to the smashing rollers. I gathered my scattered senses and switched the rollers to backward. My covering came back out and I rescued it just before it dropped in the swirling water.

What a shock! But I soon recovered my senses. In another half hour I had the last load through. I hung the last black denim pants on the reel wash line and reeled the swinging wash out as far as possible. With that done, I put the brake in place to keep it from rolling on. I went inside and drained and rinsed both tubs. I rinsed the cement floor with the hose and swept it all down the drain.

I rolled the hose up and put the broom neatly in its correct place. Then I glanced around to see if everything was as it should be. Satisfied, I looked at the clock. I was done.

I hurried outside to feel, see, smell, and hear the wonderful spring day. I jogged out to our small family orchard and wearily climbed my favorite tree where I meditated over my hectic morning, my legs dangling over the rough bark of the gnarled apple tree's branch.

I knew one thing: I wasn't very eager to do the wash alone again, but I came to the conclusion that I had learned my lesson the hard way.
Hopefully it will go better next time. Surely it will!
I tried to reassure myself.

“Maria!” my sister Lena called.

I leaped off the branch, and with renewed energy and spirit, I raced over the warm, tickly grass to the house to see what my next job was for the day.

The Day We Missed the Bus

Crist Renno

I was a stranger, and ye took me not in (Matthew 25:43).

M
Y WIFE
, S
ALOMA
,
AND
I
HAD MARRIED IN THE FALL OF
1986
IN
Newport, New York. Two weeks later we were invited to a wedding at Jake Mast's in Path Valley, Pennsylvania. We left on the Trailways bus and had an uneventful trip until we got to Binghamton, New York, where we had a layover of about a half hour to change buses.

There were different buses leaving and arriving and neither of us understood a word that came over the loudspeaker. In the meantime, I was on the pay phone arranging for a driver to pick us up when we arrived in Path Valley. When I hung up, I went to the counter and asked the ticket agent how soon our bus would leave. His answer came like a thunderbolt.

“That bus left at 2:30. It was announced twice!” he said. The next bus wouldn't leave until 2:30 the next morning. Trailways was quite helpful though. He told us there was a Greyhound station just several blocks away, so we walked over there to find out if any of their buses went to Path Valley sooner than the Trailways bus. The Greyhound people said their bus had also just left. I remembered seeing a bus leave as we walked to the station. How we wished we'd been there a little sooner.

So here we were. You can call it a honeymoon if you like, but we were all alone, stranded in a big, busy city in late afternoon with nowhere to go until early the next morning. We asked if we could just stay there until then and were told that both of the stations closed at 9:00 that night. We would have to stay outside.

As we hung around trying to decide what should be done, a young
woman entered the station obviously in great distress, crying hysterically. Our own troubles were momentarily forgotten. Here was somebody who was in greater trouble than we were. She was carrying a baby in her arms and went to a pay phone along the wall. There she struggled to dial while trying to hold the baby at the same time. All the baby did was cry even more. Saloma went over to her and asked if she could hold the baby, and her offer was gladly accepted.

When the woman finished with her call the baby's cries had subsided somewhat. The woman told us her name was Marie. She said that her husband had left her and she had to move from the apartment she had lived in. She then told us about the discarded food she had eaten from the dump, which had resulted in severe abdominal pains—probably food poisoning. She had come to the bus station to call Claudia, a friend from her church, who was now on the way to pick her up.

By and by Claudia arrived at the bus station. After Claudia learned of our predicament she was very sympathetic and offered to take us to her home to stay until our bus was due. We said we thought we would just wait outside until our bus came but Claudia exclaimed, “No! No! Please don't. It's not safe. I'll take you to my home for the night and bring you back.” To tell the truth that did sound a lot more appealing than a night spent on the street in a large, strange city.