A View from the Buggy (5 page)

I returned to the dishes and sang to entertain myself. Mom soon left for the trip over to Dad's workplace to clean and Esther Marie again begged for someone to play with her.

“Why don't you put your puzzles together?” I said. “That would give you something to do.”

She hesitated a moment, so I helped gather them up and soon she was settled on the kitchen floor close to me, chattering as she played. “I'm going to do the ABC puzzle first. But what is this?” She held up the piece.

“That's a Q, as in queen,” I answered.

“I'm going to do the cow puzzle now,” Esther Marie soon announced.

“Mom and Dad gave me that puzzle when I was five,” I said. Then I pointed to a puzzle of wild animals. “We got that when we went to the zoo.”

“Tell me a story about when you were a little girl.” Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“One time when I was about five,” I began, “I went on a trip without Mom and Dad. Aunt Clara Beth was along, though. We started out early one morning…”

After that story she begged for another one, and another one.

“I'm about tired of stories,” I said. “Why don't you tell me a story about when you were a little girl?”

“But you know all my stories already,” she protested.

I knelt by her on the floor. “I have an idea. Tonight I plan to attend a youth gathering. While I'm gone, why don't you remember what happens and when I come home, you can tell me everything.”

She was excited about the plan, and the day continued. Wilma and Rachel arrived home from school and I fixed them a snack. Since Esther Marie wanted to play again, Anna Mary helped her wrap up our little dog, Kobe, in a blanket, and they soon had him sitting helplessly in the doll stroller.

I settled on a chair to mend one of my dresses, but couldn't find the patch. Esther Marie noticed my search and pulled the piece out of her pocket. I laughed and gave her a hug. Little sisters surely keep life interesting. It was now close to supper time and I rushed about to get ready for the evening's youth gathering.

“What time do we leave?” I asked my brother, Titus.

“No later than twenty past six,” he said.

So after a quick supper we left for the mile-and-a-half trip. All of the young people were soon busy on various projects. We split and stacked
wood that evening and did small construction jobs. By nine we all gathered at the house for a snack.

After the prayer, I relaxed and visited with the other girls as we ate crackers with cheese and ham. Before long Titus motioned from the doorway that he was ready to leave. I hurried to get my coat and bonnet. At home I wondered if Esther Marie would remember her assignment.

As I entered the basement, a small figure darted out of the little girl's bedroom. Esther Marie flung her arms around my legs, so I took off my outer wraps and sat on the edge of her bed. She climbed into my lap.

“Now tell me what you did tonight,” I said as she cuddled against me. I could feel the softness of her pink nightgown and smell the scent of shampoo in her hair.

Esther Marie bounced on my knee. “First of all I had stories. Next Mom helped me and Rachel play I-Spy. Then she read our Bible story. After that Dad prayed, and we went to bed.”

I laughed. Her story had been short, but it wasn't hard to imagine the many details she hadn't mentioned.

“That sounds like fun,” I told her. “Did you have a snack after the Bible story and prayer?”

“A cookie.” She bounced again.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Mom helped me. Then I went to bed and saw you come home.” She grinned from ear to ear as I tucked her under the covers.

“Night-night,” I whispered.

Quietly I left the room and later knelt to pray at my bedside before I crawled in. I added a special prayer that night for my dear little sister, Esther Marie.

High Water

Malinda Hershberger
 

I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the L
ORD
in the land of the living (Psalm 27:13).

A
N UNUSUAL HAPPENING OCCURRED IN
J
ANUARY OF
2005,
AFTER MY
husband, Reuben, and I had been married nearly a year. On this particular Friday evening we were driving toward my parents' house with plans to stay for the night. My two married siblings, plus Reuben and I, wanted to help with the hog butchering the next day.

I had baked pies and made a large pan of pineapple delight pudding in preparation. Those were now under the buggy seat, along with a handbag containing several butchering knives, a wallet with cash, a book, a stone crock with a plastic lid, and some other items. We planned to stop in at the Family Dollar store in Brewster and then travel on to my parents' place for supper.

Due to recent heavy rains, there were flooded areas along our route. This wasn't an unusual situation for our area, but normally it didn't get this bad. More than once we had driven through water on this road, so we should have been used to it.

That night as we drove toward town on Harrison Road and darkness was falling, we stopped to light our lanterns when we came to a place where there was a “High Water, Road Closed” sign. I asked Reuben if we'd better leave the lowest lantern off its bracket for fear of its getting wet. But he thought the water wouldn't be that deep.

We drove on and soon came to an area where the water covered the road for a pretty long stretch. It didn't look deep, but we knew looks could be deceiving. The water makes it look as though the road is level, whereas it often dips. We knew that much, but what we didn't know
was that ahead of us lay a length of road with two mailboxes covered in water.

We also knew from experience that horses and buggies can get through places motor vehicles can't. Reuben now pulled back on the reins, feeling reluctant to go on, but I urged him to drive on.

Our horse Mabel took to the water nicely. She was a well-liked horse and a good traveler. Her only drawback was that she didn't like to back up. We would try sometimes, but we rarely succeeded.

Now, as we drove in further, we noticed the water was rising a bit. Thankfully this wasn't running water; it was backup from the Beach City Dam, and was almost at a standstill.

Suddenly Mabel jumped. Apparently she stepped into the ditch or a washout.

“The road's washed out,” Reuben muttered.

Mabel was struggling in the water, dragging the buggy with her until the two front wheels dropped in the hole. Reuben was standing on the dashboard and I was at the side door, with both of our heads thankfully out of the water.

Reuben told me to jump and to keep clear from the thrashing Mabel, but I couldn't. Rueben then climbed up on top of the buggy and helped me up. It was too dangerous for him to try to cut Mabel loose. We sat there, watching Mabel's thrashing eventually die down. We knew she was dead. I would have expected great waves of grief to overwhelm me to see our precious horse die in front of our eyes, but I first felt relief that her sufferings were over so quickly. It had been an agony to watch her struggle so. And if it had gone on much longer the buggy would have tipped over with us on it.

Mabel had vanished completely under the water, leaving only ripples of foam floating above her. What a cruel way indeed for someone to kill their horse. We hadn't intended it, of course, but Mabel's death still tore at our hearts. We should never have put our horse in that kind of danger.

With Mabel gone we turned our attention to our own survival. Would we now have to rescue ourselves? Little did we realize at the time what a large protecting Hand was watching over us.

I guess I was more shaken up than I realized at the time. I asked Reuben if he thought a helicopter would come get us. I think he was trying to comfort me by saying it probably would.

Before we had climbed on top of the buggy, Reuben had already given out a cry for help. Unbeknownst to us, an
English
man named Mark had heard us. He proceeded to jump into his neighbor's flat-bottom boat and use its one oar to row out to us. He told us later that his own lane and mailbox were also under water. His wife had arrived home as Mark set out in the boat, and she had to turn into someone else's driveway. Mark called over to her, telling his wife to back the car down to the water's edge and turn the heat on.

This was, after all, January weather, and we were sitting soaking wet on top of a buggy. I was getting stiff and sore, to say the least. The front of the buggy top was almost down to the surface of the water with about a foot of the back stuck out. Mark, the
English
man, rowed the boat toward us, docking carefully, and we got in. He took us to where his wife had the car waiting and we climbed inside where it was warm. It had been a long time since anything had felt so good.

We thanked Mark profusely, but he brushed it off, telling his wife to take us back to our home, which she did.

When we were inside our house, we discarded our wet clothes and I took a hot bath, which I figured was the best way to continue warming up. By the time we were ready for supper, Reuben had lost his appetite thinking about the accident and Mabel. Sleep didn't come easily for either of us that night.

We were awakened in the middle of the night by knocking on the front door. The sheriff and Mark were outside. Mark hadn't reported the accident until he realized that divers had been called in to search the area around the buggy. The sheriff wouldn't take his word though, that we had survived. Which was why he was there to speak with us in person.

The following morning we took our old buggy and our other driving horse, setting out for my parents again. We detoured around two flooded areas, not including the one with Mabel and our buggy still in it.

That evening after the butchering was finished, some of the family and Reuben decided to borrow a boat and try to bring Mabel and the buggy out. Of course I went along, not wanting to stay behind. Thankfully they didn't have that difficult a task. They pulled poor Mabel out with the buggy dragging behind her.

I poured the water out of the pie and pudding, but they were of course not salvageable. The crock pot and plastic lid had floated away. Everything else though, was still there. Our buggy robe was lying beside the road. I took it home and washed it. Except for small holes in the outer lining, it's still used today. We put the buggy in a neighbor's shop to dry and are still using it.

I know we would never have driven into that water if we had known it was so deep. Then our faithful Mabel wouldn't have been lost. I guess God had a reason for sparing our lives. We certainly learned a lesson through the experience. One we hopefully will never forget. Never keep driving when you come upon a sign that says “High Water, Road Closed.”

Kerlin

Eldon Schrock

Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth? (Ecclesiastes 3:21).

W
HEN
I
WAS
17,
MY DAD AND BROTHER
D
UANE STARTED ITCHING TO
have some sheep. We had wanted some for a long time, and one day we heard, much to our delight, that our coworker, Jake, wanted to sell his small flock of six American Blackbelly sheep.

Jake told us these sheep were very hardy and that they never had lambing problems. They have hair instead of wool, which meant we wouldn't have to shear them. We decided we couldn't go wrong. The next Saturday we brought them home. The truckload consisted of a large ram, two ewes, and three lambs. We named the ram Kerlin.

Three months into our fledgling business, Kerlin started losing weight. Soon he was obviously quite sick. Dad purchased medicine for him, but Kerlin continued to get worse. Finally one evening, he couldn't even get to his feet.

Duane and I ran to inform Dad, who told us, “Call Jake right away.” Jake had lots of experience with sheep. He'd know what to do.

I headed for the phone shack and called Jake. He listened to my description of our troubles and suggested, “You should give him penicillin.”

“We don't have any,” I said.

“I'll bring mine in the morning when I come to work,” Jake replied in his usual neighborly fashion.

I thanked him and hung up. The next morning, the minute breakfast was over, I left for our home business where we build propane refrigerators. Jake arrived soon after I did and handed me the bottle of penicillin.
“Here's what you've been looking for,” Jake told me with a big smile. “Oh, and by the way, you should probably also call the vet,” he added.

I was ready to rush back to Kerlin when I remembered I didn't know how to inject penicillin in a sheep or how much to give.

“Your dad will know. He's raised a lot of calves,” Jake said.

“Thanks,” I said, racing back to our barn. I found Dad and told him what Jake had said.

We rushed out to the barn where poor Kerlin lay. We helped him to his feet. Dad gave the injection and left Kerlin food and water in hopes that he would soon be well. Kerlin did try to drink from the bucket and stared at us afterward with unblinking eyes.