A View from the Buggy

by Jerry S. Eicher

  And neither did I, I thought, as we walked toward home with very grateful hearts.

  A Priceless Gift

  Joanna Yoder

  As thou knowest not what is the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her that is with child: even so thou knowest not the works of God who maketh all (Ecclesiastes 11:5).

  WE WERE EXUBERANT. MOM HAD SAID THE BABY WOULD BE BORN THAT night. We had been waiting for months. Now finally the time was almost at hand when we would see our next sibling.

  Mom and Dad had planned a home birth, so my four sisters and I were sent downstairs to sleep in our basement bedrooms. But that night, we girls chose to all crowd into one room together. Rebecca and Anna Mary were in the bed, and Wilma, Rachel, and myself were on a mattress on the floor.

  Titus, our only brother and the oldest in the family, had gone to his bedroom at the other end of the house. As the minutes ticked past, four-year-old Rachel dropped off to sleep. But the rest of us were too excited to sleep.

  I knew the hour was late and we should get our rest, but thoughts still raced through my mind. Thoughts like, Will the baby be a boy or a girl?

  I hoped for a boy. There were way too many girls already, and Titus was 17. I figured he’d be excited to have a little brother. But whatever God gave us, I knew we’d enjoy the baby. I was only 12, but I loved babies.

  My thoughts were interrupted when Rebecca flicked on a flashlight and pointed it at the small clock perched on the shelf.

  “What time is it?” I asked in a hushed voice.

  “A little past twelve,” she whispered. “Do you think the other girls are sleeping?”

  “I’m awake,” Wilma piped up.

  “Me too…”, 11-year-old Anna Mary added.

  “Well…let’s all try to relax and sleep now,” Rebecca said. At 15, she felt responsible for all of us.

  “I’m too excited!” seven-year-old Wilma protested.

  “We’re all excited,” Rebecca agreed. “But we need to sleep. Try counting backward from one thousand.”

  We all sighed and flopped back down on our pillows. Silence reigned again. I began counting backward and when I had reached 87, Rebecca sat straight up in bed. “I heard a baby cry!”

  All thoughts of sleep fled as three more girls sat up, straining to hear any sound from upstairs.

  It came soon enough. “Wa-a-ah!”

  Now all four of us heard it plainly. We started laughing and hugging each other, twirling around the room. We bounced happily on the bed.

  “We have a baby!” I squealed, forgetting that Rachel was still sleeping. But despite our noise, Rachel wasn’t stirring.

  “Do you think we could go upstairs?” I wondered aloud, hugging myself and bouncing some more.

  “We’ll wait until Dad comes down,” Rebecca decided. “He promised to wake us once the baby arrived.”

  I knelt by the bedroom door and pressed my ear to the crack. Soon my sisters were beside me as we listened in the silence. We couldn’t hear much, but with a little imagination we thought we heard a word or two. It sounded like Mom cooing, the way she did when she talked to a baby.

  “Didn’t she say James Lee?” I asked.

  “It did almost sound like it,” Rebecca agreed.

  “It’s a boy then!” Wilma declared.

  We all knew James Lee was the name Mom and Dad had picked if the baby were a boy.

  After what seemed like a long time there was a thump, thump, thump of feet on the stairs.

  “That must be Dad!” Rebecca squealed.

  We flung open the door and Dad appeared startled as four nightgown-clad girls burst out, nearly bowling him over. I think he had expected to find us asleep.

  “What is it?” one of us asked. “A boy or a girl?”

  “It’s a girl,” Dad answered.

  Disappointment filled my heart. How I had hoped for a little brother! But girls were just as sweet, I quickly told myself. The other girls had already stampeded up the stairs, and I turned to follow them. Eagerly we rounded the corner into the living room.

  “Are you all still awake?” Mom greeted us in a surprised tone. Her eyes shone with joy and love. We knew she was glad we could see the baby so soon after she had been born.

  But we were no longer looking at Mom. We crowded around Katie, the midwife, who had the baby wrapped snugly in a fuzzy blanket. We jostled each other in our attempt to get a good look at this new little family member. For a moment all was quiet as we gazed at the perfect little face.

  “Oh…,” I let out my breath, and everyone started to talk at once.

  “She’s so cute!”

  “Look at all that hair!”

  “Those tiny fingernails!”

  “She looks like a china doll!”

  “She’s the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.” That came from Titus, who had appeared behind us.

  “Do you have a name picked out?” Katie asked.

  “We’ll call her Esther Marie,” Dad said. He had a big grin on his face, and we knew he was as happy as the rest of us.

  “I want to hold her,” Anna Mary begged.

  So, beginning with the oldest, we each had a turn at holding our tiny little sister. Titus got his turn too, and then Rebecca placed the baby in my arms.

  I gazed at the oval-shaped face, the silky black hair, the tiny upturned nose. I exclaimed over the thin arms, the slender fingers, the narrow feet. Esther Marie squirmed in my arms and opened her eyes. This was followed by her mouth, and she stuck out her tiny pink tongue. My heart melted, and I didn’t care one bit that she wasn’t a boy. Girls were just as precious.

  The baby was passed on to Anna Mary and last of all to Wilma. Then Mom reached for her, and Dad shooed us all back to bed.

  “Go get some sleep,” he ordered. “She’ll still be here in the morning.”

  We filed downstairs and I nestled into the bed beside Rachel, who was still sound asleep. My heart overflowed with gratefulness to God.

  “Thank You, Lord, for this priceless gift You have given us,” I prayed. “Help me to always be a good example to her. Help her grow up to love and serve You.” Moments later I drowsily drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning, after I had eaten breakfast and admired Baby Esther some more, I declared to Rebecca, “I’m going to wake Rachel. It’s almost nine and she doesn’t even know we have a baby. She’s slept long enough.”

  With those words I ran downstairs and entered the bedroom.

  “Rachel, Rachel!” I called. “Wake up!”

  She stirred, opened her large brown eyes, and blinked sleepily.

  “There’s a surprise upstairs,” I told her. “God gave us something special last night.”

  Rachel sat up as she tried to grasp what I was telling her.

  “We have a baby, a tiny baby sister!” I said.

  Her eyes opened wide now, and Rachel threw her arms around my neck. “Take me up. I want to see her.”

  I picked her up and held her close to me as I headed up the stairs. Her warm body was shaking with excitement.

  “There’s the baby!” I announced. I set Rachel down in front of Rebecca, who was cuddling little Esther Marie at the moment.

  Rachel had wonder and delight on her face as she looked up at me and said simply, “I like her.”

  “We all love her,” I said. “We’re so glad God gave her to us.”

  Rachel nodded her tousled head vigorously.

  A Precious Sunbeam

  Joanna Yoder

  Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward (Psalm 127:3).

  WHAT ARE YOU DOING TODAY?” I ASKED MOM ONE FRIDAY MORNING as I helped her clear the breakfast table. Our darling little sister, four-year-old Esther Marie, was still in bed.

  “I’d really like to finish Esther Marie’s dress before Sunday,” Mother replied. “And this afternoon Dad wants me to clean his office. In the meantime Anna Mary can help with the laundry.”

  I heard Est
her Marie’s voice call from the basement bedroom, and Mom hurried down to return with our tousle-headed little sister. It had been four-and-a-half years since the memorable night when Esther Marie was born. She was now a lively, brown-eyed girl.

  “I want chocolate milk and stories,” Esther Marie announced.

  So Mom and Esther Marie were soon settled down with a storybook as Anna Mary began to sort the dry laundry off the lines in the basement. We hang the wash indoors in cold weather and it takes longer than a day to dry sometimes. When Anna Mary brought the dry wash up, I put away the shirts and dresses first and then folded a large pile of towels. A family of nine sure makes a lot of laundry.

  Esther Marie now sat on the floor with her head bent over a piece of paper, drawing. I paused to look. “What are you making?”

  “It’s Anna Mary,” Esther Marie said. “She’s screaming because a bear is coming.” Esther Marie pointed to a scraggly animal with a big mouth. Her finger continued on. “And this is me. I’m running to the house.” Her quick finger drew another woman with outstretched arms. “This is Mom coming to save Anna Mary.”

  “You’re quite the artist,” I laughed.

  “What’s an artist?” Esther Marie asked. But she didn’t wait for an answer, and I glanced at the clock. It was 11:30. Mom was busy at the sewing machine, so I needed to get busy with lunch. Did we have any leftovers from supper?

  We didn’t, so I ran down the basement stairs and entered the can room. The floor felt cool to my stockinged feet and I breathed the delicious air deeply. I strained to see in the semidarkness and searched the shelves laden with canned fruits, vegetables, and meat. Ah…there it was. I grabbed a jar of soup and stepped around a pail of carrots as I hurried back to the kitchen.

  “What are you making?” Esther Marie asked as I dumped the soup into a kettle.

  “Tomato soup,” I answered. “Does that sound good?”

  “I want a toasted cheese sandwich,” she responded.

  “That would go well with the soup,” I agreed. “Can you place the silverware on the table for me?”

  Esther Marie did so without complaint, and half an hour later our enjoyable lunch was finished. I ran water in the sink and added a squirt of soap in preparation for dish washing.

  “Who can play with me?” Esther Marie pleaded.

  “I have to wash dishes,” I said. “Why don’t you go ask Mom what you can do?”

  She disappeared, but returned a few minutes later. “I want to play at washing laundry, and Mom said you could make lines for me.”

  So I stopped work and strung yarn across the living room. Esther Marie soon had her doll clothing ready for her pretend washing machine and the pretend water. She proceeded to hang her doll clothing on the yarn lines.

  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 LORD in the land of the living (Psalm 27:13).

  AN UNUSUAL HAPPENING OCCURRED IN JANUARY 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 g
etting 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.