The Road Home

by Patrick E. Craig

  Reuben had looked tenderly at his daughter and then quickly jerked Jenny’s foot. The pain had been awful, and Jenny’s scream had echoed off the barn. Jerusha had come running to find her husband holding their sobbing daughter in his strong arms.

  “She’s brave and strong, wife,” he said as he held her safely.

  Oh, Papa! If only you were here to hold me in your arms.

  Jenny knew that she had to do something about her ankle or she would be helpless. She needed to somehow pop the bone back into place, so she looked around, trying to think of what to do. About five feet away, she could make out two stones sticking up out of the sand. They were close together with a small gap between them. An idea came to her. She turned around backward and, using her hands as levers, she scooted along until she felt the two rocks against her back. Then she shifted herself around until she was facing them.

  Gingerly, she slipped her foot into the gap between the rocks. She felt the rough granite grating against her skin, and she gasped as the pain struck her leg like an electric shock. The gap was just wide enough for her to lock her anklebone behind the rocks, so she leaned forward and pushed the leg down as far as it would go so it would not slip out. The pain was so intense that she had to lie back on the sand. Beads of salty sweat rolled down into her eyes. She sat back up and was about to jerk her leg when she had a thought. I’m going to scream!

  She felt in her jacket pocket and found a wad of unused paper napkins. She pulled them out and stuffed them into her mouth. She remembered how bad the pain had been when her papa had set her ankle. She almost stopped, but she knew that if she didn’t do this, she would have to lie here until Jorge found her. She stuck out her chin, clenched her fists, and jerked her leg as hard as she could against the rocks. The pain was so intense that she almost fainted. She bit down hard on the napkins as she groaned in agony.

  She looked down at her ankle. It had not gone back into place. She had to do it again. Sobs shook her shoulders as she steeled herself to pull again. Once again her fists clenched. She jerked her leg again. This time her ankle slipped up in the crack and pulled from between the rocks. She could feel the stones tear the skin above her ankle as she fell back in the sand, weeping from the awful pain. The wad of napkins fell out of her mouth, and she lay there gasping.

  Jenny was quiet for a few moments until the pain subsided somewhat, and then she sat back up. She had to do this. She slipped her ankle back between the rocks and pushed it all the way down, once again feeling the rocks scrape her skin. She scooted up closer to the rocks and bent her knees just a bit so she could get more leverage. She put the napkins back in her mouth, and then with all of her strength she jerked her leg. An excruciating wave of pain shot up her leg, and the anklebone popped back into place. Jenny fainted.

  When Jenny came to, the pain in her leg had subsided somewhat. She pulled it out from between the rocks and examined her ankle. The big bump was gone, but she could just barely see that a large deep purple bruise and some bad swelling had taken its place. Her ankle was badly scraped where she had pulled it against the rocks, and blood had dripped down onto her new white shoe. She rolled over onto her knees and then tried to get up by shifting her good foot under her body and slowly lifting herself up without putting any weight on her bad ankle.

  She stood there on one leg and tried to put her weight on both feet. Her left leg buckled, and she fell to her knees in the sand. She stayed on her hands and knees until the pain subsided. Then she shifted her good leg under again and lifted herself back up, this time balancing on her right leg. She looked around. A few feet away, a pile of brush had snagged against some tree roots on the bank, probably last spring during a flood. She hopped over to the pile and looked it over. There was a long, fairly straight pine branch in the pile, and she pulled it out. It would make a good walking stick to lean on, but it was a little long. She sat down on a big rock and pulled the end against her knee until it broke off. She looked down at her ankle.

  I need something to brace my ankle so I can put some weight on it.

  She could make a splint with the piece she had just broken off, but she needed something to tie it onto her leg with. She thought about her shoelace but realized it wouldn’t be long enough or strong enough to hold the splint onto her leg. She was about to give up when something caught her eye, a flash of red between the rocks. She hopped over and saw a long red piece of thin nylon rope with a metal handle on one end and what looked like a needle on the other end. It was a fish stringer, the kind that fishermen use to put their fish on to leave them in the stream while they are still fishing. The stringer was wrapped around a rock in what would have been the deepest part of the stream if the stream were full.

  Jenny reached down and pulled on the stringer. It was wedged between the rocks and partly covered by sand, but with a few jerks, she got it free. She hopped back to the rock and sat down. She took the thin piece that she had broken off her walking stick and placed it against her leg. Then she started wrapping the nylon rope around her leg and the stick. She started by twisting the rope firmly around the metal handle and then pulling against the knot, keeping the rope tight around her leg. The metal handle wedged firmly against the wood—she knew it would not slip. When she got down to her ankle she used the needle to thread the rope under several of the loops around her leg and then tied it tight. It was the perfect length.

  When she stood back up, the splint gave her ankle good support, and she was able to stand on it, not without some pain, but at least it didn’t buckle. She leaned on her pine branch, stepped carefully over the narrow stream, and made her way through the rocks to the trail on the other side. Just as she was about to start, she heard a faint voice from the top of the ravine.

  “Jenny, where are you? You better show yourself, ’cause I’m not happy with you.”

  Jorge! Desperately, Jenny looked around. A few feet away, under the trees, was another brush pile on top of some fallen logs. She dropped down and scooted under the overhanging branches until she was out of sight. Up above she heard voices drawing nearer. It was Luis and Jorge. They had a flashlight, and Jenny could see the light reflecting off the trees up on top of the cliff. Jorge was talking.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Luis, but you shouldn’t have gotten me drunk. I fell down and she got away.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not buying it,” Luis said. “I never heard of a Sanchez who couldn’t hold his booze.”

  “Maybe we’re not all tough guys like you, Uncle Luis,” Jorge retorted sarcastically.

  Jenny heard the sound of a slap, and Jorge cried out.

  “Don’t ever talk to me like that again, kid. Now let’s find that girl, or you’re gonna have more than one thing to be sorry for.”

  “Okay, okay,” Jorge answered.

  Their voices faded as they walked up the trail, back toward the cabin. Finally it was quiet again. Jenny realized she had been very lucky to fall off the cliff. The sides were so steep that the men hadn’t considered the possibility that she could have climbed down, so they were looking for her in the woods up on top. She breathed a sigh of relief and let her pounding heart slow down. She stood to her feet, leaned on her stick, and began to hobble south down the hill, hoping to find the interstate or at least another cabin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Stains

  ONCE JERUSHA WAS FINISHED REPAIRING THE QUILT, she went over it one more time to make sure all of the damaged areas were put completely right. She worked from the top of the quilt to the bottom, examining each section until she was satisfied that the quilt was undamaged and whole again. The red rose, the heart of the design, was totally restored, and the new silken pieces glowed with the radiance that had been so striking when she first made the quilt. After she was satisfied with the repair, she turned down the lights and went to her room. She made herself ready for bed and then knelt down and spoke her prayers.

  “Heavenly Father, I thank You for the blessings You have bestowed upon my life—my husband, my daug
hter, this farm, the plain life we live, and most of all, the eternal life You have granted me through Your Son, Jesus. I also thank You for showing me the wonderful power of Your redeeming blood, the blood that has made all things new. You have told us to be careful for nothing, but I confess to You that I am anxious for Jenny and Reuben, and for Bobby. I place them into Your care tonight. Please be with Reuben and Bobby as they search for Jenny.”

  As she prayed, her anxiety began to subside, and a peace gradually settled on her. A scripture came unbidden to her thoughts. He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.

  Jerusha began to recite the passage out loud.

  “Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.”

  Peace flowed into Jerusha’s heart.

  Early in the morning, the song of a black-capped chickadee singing outside her window awakened Jerusha. The sun was just peeking over the low hills away toward Pennsylvania. A faint touch of frost clung to the bottom of the windowpane, and a slight bite of cold chilled the air, even in the house. Jerusha could feel the coolness on her face as she lay still for a few moments under her warm quilt, listening to the sweet song.

  “Chick-a-dee, chick-a-dee.”

  For those few minutes, the morning held a measure of peace. But then the events of the past days flooded in upon her, and a knot formed in her stomach.

  “Oh, Jenny, where are you?” she whispered.

  Then the scripture from the night before came to her unbidden. She knew that the Lord had been showing her something about Jenny. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust. That is how You have been with Jenny all her life. You have protected her and guarded her since she was a little girl.

  Everything the Lord had been showing Jerusha about Jenny’s life was beginning to piece together.

  Just like when I make a quilt. I have the idea, then I do the work, and then I have the quilt.

  Jerusha got up and put on her robe. She went to the kitchen, lit the stove, and put on some coffee. When it was ready, she poured herself a cup and went back to her sewing room. The Rose of Sharon quilt lay where she had left it. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. All the pieces were there, but large stains marred the front and the back. The largest one had been made when she fell into the pond carrying Jenny across the ice, but there were others where the quilt had gotten wet when she had fallen in the snow as she struggled through the drifts on her way to the cabin.

  The stains were large and uneven. There were also dirty places where she had lain on the floor of the cabin with Jenny, wrapped in the thick quilt. Sooty handprints reminded her of how she had kept the fire burning. Jerusha sighed. There was still so much to be done before the quilt was fully restored.

  “I’m not sure I understand everything yet, Lord,” Jerusha said. “I know now that Your blood covers the sins and imperfections in my life, so what are You telling me about these stains? How do they relate to my life? If my sins are forgiven, why is my life still stained?”

  Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.

  “What?” Jerusha asked.

  Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.

  Once more Jerusha became aware of the trap she had fallen into all her life as a quilter. She had always loved the end result, the finished quilt, but now she was beginning to understand that for the Lord, the work was complete before the foundation of the world. He was the Alpha and the Omega, so He saw the beginning and the end of each life. His attention was always on the process, the things that made a life what it was, and He maintained constant vigilance over the lives of His children to keep them on the path to His planned end.

  “So, Lord, when I fall, You are always there?”

  I will never leave you or forsake you. I love the church and gave Myself for it that I might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, that I might present it to Myself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish.

  A picture came to Jerusha. She was twelve years old, and her father had given her a new pair of high-top shoes. They were beautiful black leather, handmade by a neighbor, and the finest shoes Jerusha had ever owned. One rainy day, she forgot that she was wearing her new shoes and went outside to play. When she came in, her shoes were covered with mud and stained by the pools of water she had walked through. She thoughtlessly left them on the back porch and went to her room.

  Several hours later there came a knock on her door. When she opened it, her father was standing there with her new shoes in his hand. She saw the look of disappointment in his eyes, and then she looked down at the shoes. Instead of being muddy and stained, they were clean and polished, not a speck of dirt on them. They almost looked new again. Her father had said nothing but simply handed her the shoes and turned away.

  A rush of shame and sorrow had come over her as her father silently walked down the hall. She had vowed to herself that she would never make that mistake again, but less than a month later she thoughtlessly wore them outside in the fields, and again they were dirty and stained. This time she didn’t leave them, but cleaned them herself and tried to polish them. Her efforts didn’t produce the desired result, so she had taken them to her father and asked for his help in cleaning them.

  Her father had quietly showed her how to clean and polish them. First he wiped the mud off with a damp cloth. Then he placed a small dab of polish on a soft rag and rubbed it gently into the shoes with small circular motions, making sure that each crease and crevice was filled with polish. He set them by the stove for a few minutes until the polish melted into the surface of the leather. Then he sprinkled a few drops of water on the shoes and buffed them with a soft brush. He didn’t stop there, but repeated the process two times. When he was finished, he buffed them lightly with a cotton cloth until they shone like new.

  “Ja, dochter, das is gut.” He had smiled at her. “We learn how to care for the things we are given. The next time, you will clean them.”

  Jerusha thought about what she had learned. “So we are made new and covered by Your blood, but still we make ourselves dirty by walking in the world? Doesn’t living the Amish way keep us from sin?”

  The whole world lies under the sway of the wicked one. Your church does not save you. I save you.

  “The first time I got my shoes dirty, my father cleaned them for me. The second time, he showed me how to clean them. But from then on, I had to keep my shoes clean or clean them myself if I got them dirty. Is that what You mean by working out your own salvation?”

  Yes. I save you and show you the path, but then you must walk it. Each trial is a test. Will you do what I have taught you, or will you go your own way?

  Jerusha looked at the quilt. “So even though it is restored and made whole, it can still be stained? And when it is, I must…what must I do then, Lord?”

  If you confess your sins, I am faithful and just and will forgive you your sins and purify you from all unrighteousness.

  “So, just as a child, I must come to my Father to be cleansed from my sins?”

  Yes, dochter. And I will show you the way, and then you must walk in it.

  Jerusha sat silently thinking. She began to understand that her life with the Lord had been shallow and empty, that she hadn’t understood how He really worked in her life to save her, keep her, instruct her, and guide her. She had always believed that her church had kept her from the world, but now she understood that it wasn’t her church, but her relationship with Him that kept her. And now she knew that each day, her life could be stained by sin even though she might appear to be doing everything right—sins of omission and sins of commission, sins of pride, arro
gance, and so many other things, she would be overwhelmed if she didn’t have the Lord to walk with her.

  With that in mind, she took the quilt to the washroom. She filled a tub with cold water and stirred in some liquid soap, and a very small amount of vinegar. She placed the quilt in the water, pushing it under the water and making certain the entire quilt was wet. She gently moved the quilt around in the water. Then she left the quilt in the water for about ten minutes. After that, she drained the wash water and filled the tub again. She repeated draining and refilling the tub until the water and quilt were soap free—just clear water and no suds. After the quilt was rinsed, Jerusha blotted it dry with towels to absorb the moisture. Then she hung the quilt over the quilting frame where air could circulate around it.

  As she stood looking at the quilt, she could see that the stains were almost gone. There were still a few spots that were slightly discolored, but the vinegar had restored most of the brightness. She began to understand on a deep level what the Lord had been showing her through the quilt. His words came to her again.

  The washing of the water by the word…

  “No matter how much we try or how many rules we follow, we will never be free from the stain of sin in this life, will we, Lord?” Jerusha asked.

  Then without waiting for the answer she spoke, for the word was in her heart. “You made us whole, not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to Your mercy You saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost. And now when we sin again, You have made a way for us to remove the stain. But, Lord, as I look at the quilt, I still see the stain. Isn’t my life like the quilt?”

  Yes, dochter, but when I look at your life, I see the life of My Son, who lives in you. And there is no stain or sin in Him. He has made the way. He has covered you with His blood, and He washes you with His word. That is the way You must walk, and it is the way for Jenny. You must pray that she does not love Me because of you, but because of what I have done for her. She must understand My shed blood and the power of My word to cleanse. That is the key, and that is the way for her to find peace.