A Blessing for Miriam

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Long moments passed, and no light appeared above them. Uncle William looked up at the basement ceiling as silence slowly fell outside. He withdrew himself from Aunt Fannie’s embrace and handed her baby Jonathon, who wrinkled up his face but no wails came.

  After several minutes of quiet, Uncle William said, “We’d better go up and see what’s left.” He moved toward the stairs. “Prepare yourselves though. I’m sure it won’t be pretty.”

  Miriam’s knees were still trembling as they approached the door. Uncle William unbolted it, and they stepped into the kitchen. Oddly, the first thing Miriam noticed were the supper dishes sitting undisturbed where they’d left them. She glanced out the kitchen window and gasped. Debris lay everywhere. The greenhouse was entirely gone. Ripped greenery and broken pots were everywhere. The mess extended out to the road and into the field beyond.

  “Yep, looks like we lost the greenhouse,” Uncle William said stoically.

  Aunt Fannie slipped her arm around Uncle William’s waist and leaned against him as they stared where their business once stood. Neither of them said anything more as they gazed out over the scene. In Aunt Fannie’s arms, baby Jonathon also remained silent.

  Miriam pushed open the front door. The shock of the destruction settled deeply in her heart. She couldn’t imagine how Uncle William and Aunt Fannie must feel. There was no insurance or extra money to fix the damage. Surely the community would rally to their aid. Still…She looked up at the roofline of the house. Shingles had been torn off, but no other damage was evident. The house had been spared. The Lord had been with them even with the loss of the greenhouse. Uncle William’s barn still stood, and only a few of the windows were smashed from what she could see.

  Miriam searched the distance. The trees to the south and west were flattened to the ground. It was as if the prairie had reclaimed its own, opening up the countryside right into Clarita. Where houses and streets should have been, there was a path of debris tossed and thrown about. The metal water tower once in the center of the town lay to the north, twisted into a massive steel pretzel. Miriam’s head spun when she realized that her schoolhouse lay directly beyond the horizon on a straight path of devastation. Had it been destroyed? “It can’t be,” the cry escaped Miriam’s lips. “And what of the people in Clarita? And what of Wayne?” She wanted to know immediately!

  Miriam’s hands trembled as she reentered the house. Uncle William passed her on his way outside. Aunt Fannie sat at the kitchen table with little Jonathon in her lap. Her eyes were bright with tears, but her face showed courage and resolve. “We will make it through this, Miriam. We will.”

  Miriam nodded, afraid to trust her voice at the moment.

  “Were our neighbors hit?” Aunt Fannie asked.

  Miriam tried to keep her voice steady. “I think so. The town looks pretty bad. I’m worried about the schoolhouse. I’d like to go see if it’s still standing.”

  “You should,” Aunt Fannie agreed. “I will go with you, and we can swing by the town afterward to see if anyone needs help.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Miriam protested. “You and Uncle William have enough on your minds right here.”

  Aunt Fannie stood and touched Miriam’s arm. “There’s not much I can do here now. I too want to know how your schoolhouse fared.”

  “I’ll get Sally ready then,” Miriam said. She turned and left the house. She entered the barn to the wild whinny of the horses. How had Wayne fared with his family’s horses? Miriam wondered. His parents were gone on a trip. Surely Wayne had been able to handle things well. Miriam approached Sally’s stall and quieted her with soft strokes on her neck. “It’s over now and nothing happened that the Lord can’t take care of,” she said soothingly. Her words calmed the horse, and Miriam led Sally out of her stall. At the barn door, Sally balked. Miriam whispered in the horse’s ear, “We need to see about my schoolhouse before it’s totally dark. And some townspeople might need our help.” After a loud whinny, Sally settled down.

  Together Miriam and Aunt Fannie hitched the horse to the buggy and climbed in. As they drove out of the lane, Miriam saw Uncle William’s form among the ruins of the greenhouse. He stood, his hands in his pockets, gazing over the damage.

  “The poor man,” Aunt Fannie’s voice choked. “He’s lost so much.”

  “Shouldn’t you be with him?” Miriam asked. “I can run over to the schoolhouse alone. I can check on the town too.”

  “William needs to be by himself for a bit,” Aunt Fannie said.

  Miriam nodded and drove slowly out of the lane. She had to concentrate because Sally threw her head up and sidestepped a few times in fright at the debris scattered along the way. Miriam kept a firm grip on the lines as they turned onto State Route 48. In the distance, the wail of sirens hung in the air. Red and blue lights appeared from the direction of Coalgate. Aunt Fannie clutched baby Jonathon tightly to her chest. “Do you think there were any deaths tonight?”

  “I hope not,” Miriam said, shuddering but keeping her eyes fixed on the road. She soon turned Sally toward the schoolhouse and tried to see across the branch-strewn fields. Uncle William had prayed for the safety of people’s lives, but he hadn’t asked for the protection of buildings or trees. Perhaps that would have been too much to ask? The Lord’s wrath displayed in the weather could not be totally contained, and the destruction of Clarita lay in plain sight before them. They both stared but said nothing.

  There was another turn of the road as they approached the schoolhouse lot. Miriam kept her eyes averted. She wanted to see, but now that she was here, her courage had fled away. Aunt Fannie’s gasp made Miriam look up. The schoolhouse was gone. Not a piece of wall stood upright in the tangled mess. Where the playground had been, glass was scattered. Pieces of the swing set and wood fragments stuck out of the ground across a neighbor’s field. It was as if a giant had crushed the building in his hands and then torn the pieces apart in his fury.

  A moan escaped her mouth as Miriam pulled Sally to a stop. Only hours ago, she had left this place. The children had played here today and studied. Now the building was gone. The play equipment was gone.

  “We can build again.” Aunt Fannie’s hand touched Miriam’s arm. “The community will rally. We can be thankful that no one was at the school. That would have happened if the storm had come earlier.”

  “There’s a shelter in the basement,” Miriam whispered, realizing that would have been scant protection. Obviously the schoolhouse had been in the direct path of the tornado. How like Aunt Fannie to point out the hand of protection from the Lord even in this tragedy and to find a reason to give thanks.

  They sat in silence in the buggy for a long time. Finally Aunt Fannie’s hand tugged on Miriam’s arm. “We should go back now.”

  Aunt Fannie was right. They should get back. Life had to go on. That was the way the Lord made things, and they must accept His power and grace. Miriam had always looked on this land as a place of promise, a place where her heart might find rest and peace. The storm today hadn’t been part of that promise, but there would still be God’s grace even when one’s expectations remained unfulfilled. In the end, the Lord’s hand would serve only what was best.

  Twenty minutes later, Miriam pulled into their driveway. Uncle William came out of the greenhouse ruins at a fast pace, his face shadowed by grief. Miriam knew she could do little to comfort her uncle’s heart. The family’s tragedy was great, and from the intense activity of the rescue vehicles in Clarita, their neighbors may well have suffered even greater losses. The memory of her demolished schoolhouse appeared dim now when compared to the thoughts of people trapped in their homes. Some may have even died.

  “Dear Lord, comfort all our hearts tonight,” Aunt Fannie whispered a quick prayer beside Miriam on the buggy seat.

  Uncle William met them near the barn door. “Don’t unhitch,” he ordered in a weary voice. “We must go see if we can help our neighbors.”

  Aunt Fannie didn’t hesitate. “I was thinki
ng the same thing. We should take food perhaps. We still have supper on the table.”

  “Can it be taken?” Uncle William glanced toward the back of the buggy.

  “Yah,” Aunt Fannie answered. “Some of the food at least. We’ll go get it ready.”

  “Let us leave soon. People will need help,” Uncle William said. “I’ll get a shovel and pry bar from the barn.”

  Miriam shuddered at the images in her mind—twisted timbers, fallen masonry walls, people trapped in the debris. Uncle William was right, she was sure. They had prayed for safety, but the Lord did what He thought best. She must not question His ways, regardless of how wrong or destructive His choices seemed. The Lord often chose a direction mankind could not understand. In the end, though, He always gave a blessing.

  Miriam hurried after Aunt Fannie.

  Uncle William tied Sally to the hitching post and disappeared into the barn.

  “Let’s see, how shall we do this?” Aunt Fannie placed Baby Jonathon on a blanket beside the stove and rubbed her forehead.

  “We can take the bowls of food. Someone among the Englisha will surely have a portable gas stove we can heat it with.”

  “They’ll have disposable plates and utensils to eat with too,” Miriam suggested.

  “Yah, that would be right.” Aunt Fannie began to move with quick motions. “And we must take coffee. They will have pots and cups, but we will need some grounds to make it. This will be a long night unless I miss my guess.”

  Miriam loaded up with the bowls of food and made a trip to the buggy. Uncle William had placed tools in the back, but he was nowhere around. Sally turned her head to stare at her, as if she couldn’t understand all the fuss. “There is much trouble afoot,” Miriam told her.

  Sally nickered softly.

  “Don’t be frightened with all the noise and lights in town.” Miriam patted Sally’s neck. “People are just trying to help, and that’s how the Englisha do things.”

  Miriam turned as Aunt Fannie came from the house with her arms filled. “There’s one more load,” Aunt Fannie said. “Then I’ll get the baby.”

  The two were on the way to the house moments later. A wave of weakness swept over Miriam as they neared the front steps. Aunt Fannie stumbled on the way up. They were both near collapse from stress and tiredness, yet the night was still ahead of them. A night filled with labor and tragedy, to say nothing of further shocks. At least all at the Byler house had survived without bodily harm.

  “Thank You, dear Lord, for Your grace,” Miriam whispered as she gathered up the last of the food bowls and a bag of ground coffee.

  Aunt Fannie had baby Jonathan wrapped in a blanket and was already at the front door. Miriam followed her aunt outside and loaded her bowls into the back of the buggy. When she finished, Aunt Fannie had climbed in while Uncle William held baby Jonathon.

  “Lord, protect his eyes and ears from the destruction all around him,” Uncle William prayed as he handed Jonathon up to Aunt Fannie.

  “Amen!” Aunt Fannie agreed.

  Miriam hopped into the back of the buggy and held on as Uncle William climbed in and urged Sally out the lane at a fast clip. Her hooves beat a steady rhythm on the pavement as they headed south on 48 and turned west at the first dirt road. The lights of emergency vehicles stabbed the darkness ahead of them. A soft glow filled the horizon as they approached Clarita.

  “So how was the schoolhouse?” Uncle William asked Miriam.

  “Nothing is left,” Miriam said.

  “I’m glad school wasn’t in session,” Aunt Fannie said. “No one would have survived, I’m sure.”

  Uncle William was about to respond when a buggy appeared on a side road. “That would be Deacon Phillips,” he commented. “There must not be too much damage to the community people if he has time to arrive and help the Englisha.”

  “Be thankful for that,” Aunt Fannie said. “I have a feeling that not all our people were spared damage. We couldn’t be the only ones.”

  “It wouldn’t be the Lord’s judgment if we were,” Uncle William chided. “Surely you were not thinking so.” He slowed Sally so the deacon’s buggy could pull in front of them.

  Aunt Fannie hung her head for a moment. “I will think on the Lord’s grace and not His judgment tonight.”

  “That would be wise,” Uncle William agreed.

  Moments later a firefighter appeared on the road ahead of them and directed them into a nearby field. Deacon Phillips’s buggy turned in to park, but Uncle William continued forward.

  “Ask him about the food,” Aunt Fannie spoke up.

  Uncle William called out, “Whoa there, Sally,” and brought the horse a quick stop.

  The firefighter waved his hands and shouted. “Move on, mister.”

  Uncle William ignored the order. “We’ve brought food along…and coffee. Where should we take it?”

  A pleased expression flooded the firefighter’s face. “In that case, keep going another block. They have a command tent set up there. Come back here to park.”

  “Will do, and thank you.” Uncle William clucked to encourage Sally to move forward.

  Deacon Phillips hollered from the darkness, “Wait a minute!”

  Uncle William pulled Sally to the side of the road, crossing a shallow ditch.

  Miriam opened her buggy door as Deacon Phillips hurried toward them.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to hold you up, but how are things at your house?”

  Uncle William leaned out of his buggy door. “The greenhouse is completely gone, but we’re all here, so the Lord be praised.”

  “Yah, that is true.” Deacon Phillips caught his breath from his quick rush. “Your house is okay?”

  “A few shingles are gone. The barn was spared for the most part. How is everyone at your place?” Uncle William inquired.

  Deacon Phillips said, “We thought we were in danger, but the storm passed to the west of us. The town got the worse of it…and you apparently. We are not worthy to be spared, but we were.”

  “Miriam said the schoolhouse has been completely demolished. However, it’s not a night for condemnation or judgment,” Uncle William said. “We must do what we can.”

  “Yah” Deacon Phillips agreed. “Good to know about the school. Just doing what we can, that’s why I came. And there are others coming behind me.” Horses hooves beating pavement could be heard in the distance as if supporting Deacon Phillips’s claim.

  “How is everyone else in the community?” Uncle William asked.

  “I don’t know. I came past Bishop Wengerd’s place on the way over here. They suffered quite a bit of damage to their house, but the family survived in the basement. They’ll be spending the rest of the night with extended family. I suppose we’ll know when the morning comes how everyone else fared.”

  “May the Lord give us all grace for what lies ahead,” Uncle William stated. “We’ve got food that we best get down to the command center. Then we’re coming back here to park. After that we’ll see if we can find a place to help.”

  “Sounds good,” Deacon Phillips said. “I have my tools along. I’m sure they’ll have some place for us to help. The town looks pretty torn up from here.”

  Uncle William clucked to Sally, and they pulled back onto the road. On the street ahead of them, bright lights surrounding a tent lit up the night sky. Uncle William stopped near the front.

  Miriam climbed down and reached up to take baby Jonathon.

  Aunt Fannie came out of the buggy and looked around. Englisha were rushing about all over the place. Most of them were firefighters and police. No one paid them any attention. Aunt Fannie peered into the tent for a moment. “I guess we’ll have to take care of ourselves,” she said. “They do have a food table set up at the far end, but there’s not much offered.”

  “We should have left baby Jonathon with someone,” Miriam said. “I suppose that would have taken too much time.”

  “Food isn’t the main event tonight,” Uncle
William told them. “However, let’s put out what we have. While you do that, I’ll go see where they need the most help.”

  While they transferred the food items inside the tent, Deacon Phillips passed them with a shovel over his shoulder and a toolbox dangling from his left hand. After they were done, Uncle William climbed back into the buggy and drove toward the parking area. Miriam followed Aunt Fannie back into the tent. Two Englisha ladies appeared with smiles on their grim faces.

  “This is so kind of you,” one of them said as they took in the food bowls. “I’m Margaret and this is Leslie. We’re trying to set up for the rescue workers, but we haven’t gotten very far. I know they’ll be hungry soon.”

  Aunt Fannie smiled. “I’m Fannie Byler, and this is Miriam. That’s my baby boy, Jonathon. How bad is the damage in town?”

  “Bad enough,” Leslie said. “I’ve heard about one fatality. There are no doubt more. Clarita got hit straight on.”

  “We’re so sorry to hear that.” Aunt Fannie clasped and unclasped her hands. “Should we perhaps go help search for people?”

  Margaret shook her head. “There’s plenty of help pouring in, and I see that more Amish are arriving. We’re so grateful for the aid. Right now food is the one thing we lack. There’s a utility trailer out back they brought in ten minutes ago, but I haven’t had time to check what it contains. Perhaps you can help there?”

  Aunt Fannie nodded.

  “Do you need someone to look after the baby?” Leslie asked, concern on her face.

  Aunt Fannie chuckled. “He’ll be fine on a blanket in a corner that’s out of the way. It’s way past his bedtime, I’m thinking, so he shouldn’t be any trouble.”

  Leslie and Margaret appeared skeptical, but they waited while Fannie set up a blanket in a nearby corner. Baby Jonathon kicked his legs but didn’t protest when Aunt Fannie set him down. Miriam left the three women watching baby Jonathon and went to explore the utility trailer. Shelves of packaged food lined the walls, along with gas stoves and other small appliances she didn’t know the use of. Miriam returned to the tent with several gas stoves. She set them up on the table.