The Light...In Dark Places S32

"I was afraid...well, when I saw Gene with the group, I figured we'd lost him forever," Jed spoke softly into the dark.

"He looked so grown up and fine--I didn't know who he was--at first," Agnes lay quietly beside him as the moonlight streamed in through their open bedroom window.

"He must a' grown two inches since he's been gone."

"That new suit...he just looked different...I don't know..." she paused and her mind wandered back through the last few years.

"You're thinkin' maybe he's changed too much?"

"Jed, we're just--now I don't want this taken bad--"

"I know, Agnes. We're poor folks. We're poor in the 'goods of this world' at least."

"When we visited your step mother and sister, it was fun. I enjoyed myself. They do live a life different than what we live, but..."

"Peaches, do you wish you'd went back with your Aunt when your folks died? You'd of had that kind of life. Servants, a big house, silk and satin dresses. Probably married some rich man..." he thought how sick Agnes had been lately. Maybe a good doctor could help... Jed thought on the last few years with their hardships and toil. She had bore the work and tears, never complaining, but.... His heart agonized. Did she regret her choice?

"Jedidiah Wade! Have I ever given you to think that I hankered after that sort of life?! Have I ever?!"

"Well, no, I can't say that you have," he said slowly turning his face away from her.

"Jed...you just look at me, Jed!" she exclaimed softly.

He turned his head back toward her. "You could have had it so easy..."

"Well, that's right. I could have married John Beetley. Now that would have been something. He's been married to how many women...? Or what about Arthur Tahrt. Good old Art. He's still on his first wife, but that's because she just ignores all the insults. And then there was..."

"Whoa! Whoa!" he protested. "That was selfish of me...I was feeling sorry for myself. I just thought...I thought of all the things I would like for you to have. Things I always planned to give you, but times have been..." he continued in thought.

"You just stop it then!" she punched his arm half playfully. "You hear me...just stop it. I've never cared for any of those things, or I would have left with my Aunt...and my sisters. No, I used to wonder what our children would be like...and I couldn't think that anyone else would be the perfect father for those children. I was right too. I wouldn't have wanted children by any of those other fellows. They weren't worth making more of."

"And you thought I was?" It had never occurred to Jed to think that far ahead, and it was a revelation that she had.

"Some girls just looked at what the man...I mean boy...was on the outside and how he treated her. I have to admit all four of you boys covered those two bases well. Don't remember any one of you that was ever rude or thoughtless." She stopped to think back. "No, there were a couple of instances where there were pranks, but--those were done in fun. I liked the way you all were respectful of your Pa, and your step mother, and watched out for Grandma Wade."

"Those were just things everyone did," Jed protested.

"No, those were things that everyone should do, but I've been in enough homes to see the difference."

Jed remained silent at the backdoor compliment. How odd, he thought. Being respectful just came natural to him and his brothers. Was it because it was a natural character, or had it been ingrained in them from such an early age that it was second nature to them?

Agnes' thoughts turned back to Gene. "Now that he's been places, don't you think he will find it dull here? Won't he want something different? Something exciting?"

"Don't sell the boy short. At least give him a chance. I think he's made of some pretty good stuff. Character doesn't change, Peaches..."

*********************************************************

Gene lay awake thinking of the long journey. Yeah, it had been fun and exciting. He could now say he was a part of that group known as 'traveled folks'. He listened to the night sounds, the air was so heavy--so very hot. He took his pillow and went softly down to the front porch. Flopping his pillow down on the smooth painted board floor he lay down. The moonlight was so bright it made silhouettes of the trees, buildings, even the fence posts. He listened as the crickets played their night songs, and was so thankful to be home...

"No, Shep, go lay down over there." He whispered as Shep lay down right next to him. "Over there!" he nudged his dog away. "And stop panting so...you old fool dog," he sat up and caressed the soft silky head and ears for a little while. "Now go on over there. It's just too plum hot over here for both of us," he said with a chuckle.

Grudgingly the old dog moved over, but no further than he had to. He stretched out full length and the boy and dog went to sleep.

"Gene's not in his room," Agnes worried as Jed came into the kitchen the next morning.

Jed put a finger on his lips, he guided Agnes just a few steps, and she peered out through the open kitchen window.

"Oh!" she caught her exclamation, and her eyes grew misty.

"Do you think he's outgrown us?" he said handing her his handkerchief.

She shook her head and blew her nose. "Better get some breakfast started," she dabbed at her nose one more time. "Don't have anything fancy to fix..." she fretted. Taking one last look at the boy sleeping with his head on one side of the pillow, and the dog with his head on the other half, she sighed and turned back to her work. "I wish we had something extra for this morning..."

"Don't worry about it, Agnes," Jed spoke more to himself than to her, "he's never asked for anything but what we've had to give. Always been thankful for it too--an' I don't reckon he's going to change now..."

Gene woke slowly, raised up on his elbows and made a face. "Shep you old scoundrel!" he grinned as the dog roused out of his sleep and jerked into a sitting up position with a guilty look. The pots were rattling in the kitchen, and Gene could smell home cured meat frying. His stomach growled and his mouth watered as he thought of his Aunt's light fluffy biscuits and homemade plum butter. Nothing in all his travels could equal home and its simple pleasures.

"Just go on with ya, you old mutt," he scolded, but repented when he saw how ashamed his dog tried to look. Gene picked up his pillow and threw it on the porch swing, "Oh, come on," he invited Shep over as he plunked down on the swing. Shep sat on his haunches, tongue lolling out and laughing. Gene vigorously rubbed his head and behind his ears. "You old fraud!"

The spring on the porch door complained as Jed stepped out. "Too hot to sleep?"

"Good morning, Uncle. Yeah I would say. I think you could probably fry an egg on the side walk...When our ship got into dock the whole talk was of nothing but the heat!"

"Well, come on inside. Agnes has breakfast ready...we've been just having one hot meal a day. Don't have to heat up the kitchen that-a-way...so how was your trip?" Jed put a hand on Gene's shoulder. "My but I think you growed a whole foot while you were away, boy!"

Gene stood up a little straighter, "Yeah, just a few more inches and I'll be almost as tall as you..." he said with a grin.

"I'll go get the punkin'," Jed turned toward the stairs at the gurgling and cooing coming from Nissa's room.

"Wait--let me get her," Gene blurted.

Jed stopped with a grin, "Why, I guess I have been hogging all the attention the last few weeks--sure you go ahead."

Gene disappeared before the last word was finished. They could hear Nissa screeching with delight when Gene's head popped around the corner. Jed patted Agnes' hand as peek-a-boo noises and laughing and clapping sounds came from Nissa's room.

"You go ahead and offer thanks, Gene," Jed obliged as soon as the pair joined them, and Nissa was situated in her high chair.

"I'm not the only one that's grown," Gene exclaimed as he watched Agnes feeding the baby. "And she has changed in the last six weeks. I wouldn't have thought she would have changed so much!"

"Well, we don't see it. But David and Bessie's little Eric! Now he's sure grown--" Jed took a bite of his biscuits and plum butter. "We were so surprised to see you all last night--why it's a good thing my teeth are naturally fixed in my mouth!"

"That's so," Agnes teased, "you'd have stepped on them when you jumped up and they fell on the floor with your jaw!"

"That's probably right. I was so...well it was funny we didn't get your telegram. We probably won't get your letter for another two weeks.

"The court allowed us those two more weeks originally, but we got a telegram that said they'd moved the trial up and we needed to be back. Well, we had to catch the first ship back...and it was full speed ahead to make it on time. Aunt, these are the finest biscuits I've ever had..." he helped himself to two more and heaped plum butter on each half.

"Now, Gene with all those fancy places you've been..." Agnes turned a rosy pink at the compliment; she smiled quite pleased. "What is that dreadful...oh, look," she peered out the window, "there's Mr. Hurst."

They all turned to watch as their neighbor drove his tractor pop-pop-popping all the way down the drive.

Jed pushed back his chair and walked to the screen door, "Mornin' Bill," he called out as he stepped onto the porch, welcoming his neighbor.

Mr. Hurst swung off the tractor, and with his normal hitch to his get along gait, walked toward the house. "Mornin'," he said in his usual raucous gravelly voice.
He handed Jed a dish, "Ann sent your missus a dessert, heard she's been feelin' poorly. Thought maybe she would like some cherry pie. Had quite a time gettin' it here. She'll try to get by this afternoon for a visit. She's been pretty busy with our three little 'uns."

"Come on in for a cup of coffee. Don't know about you, but we're pretty much done for field work..." Jed held the door open for Mr. Hurst.

"You can sure say that again!"

Gene listened to the adults' conversation, and his thoughts floated along with their words. Mr. Hurst had moved onto the farm that the Kings had previously owned. Everyone had been surprised when the Kings had moved to the farm. The neighbors were not surprised when they moved back to town. Gene's thoughts were suddenly riveted back to the present as Mr. Hurst turned to him.

"Are you ready for the trial?" He asked.

Jed soberly pushed back from the table cradling his coffee cup. Waiting for the boy to answer. Even Agnes and the baby were quiet, all noise ceased. It was as if everything was suspended on a thin translucent cotton candy thread, afraid to move lest the thread should break.

"I guess we're as ready as we can be, sir," Gene said with a slight shrug.

"Ya ever seen a trial like this?" Mr. Hurst said in a quiet voice, unlike his normal free spirited conversation.

"No, sir. Can't say as I have."

"It's kind of intimidating for those involved, but real inter'estin' to watch. I saw one--a big trial out east once..."

"There were some real surprises that came out of it. Sometimes things aren't as cut and dried as you would think they would be."

"Is that so?" Jed asked leaning forward slightly his eyes narrowing with intensity.

"Yes. It was a murder trial, and every one just knew who it was that had done it...cept in the end--that wasn't who it was. It was a reg'lar mystery. Like them mystery stories they write."

"Well, they say that truth can be more strange than fiction," Agnes spoke lightly. Her heart beat quickened, an unknown fear rose in her breast. It was not until Nissa whimpered that she noticed how tightly she clutched the baby, and relented in her grasp.

"Don't worry, Aunt," Gene could feel the sudden fear and tension in the air, "Alistair is helping us, and David says God is watching over us." He spoke with a conviction that he did not understand. He had suffered wrongful accusations. Accusations that had never been cleared up and he knew that a number of people in the community still thought him a vandal and a thief. If God cared, wouldn't he have taken care of him...made sure he had been cleared? But David said God works in mysterious ways....


ALPH THOMPSON JURY SELECTED-- the paper screamed...OPENING ARGUMENTS BEGIN TODAY....

Sweat seemed to gush from every pore in his body as Gene sat in the packed court room. His gaze wandered over the jury sitting in the jury box. Gene never quite understood what people meant when they said it was a trial by a jury of your peers. These folks sitting in the box were just ordinary people. Not a one of them would have been peers with Alph Thompson. There were four local shop keepers, four farmers, one businessman, and two women. Even with perspiration beading their faces,they had dressed in their finest Sunday clothes prepared for the serious task at hand.

Albert Slie, the defending attorney, scrutinized the pages on the table in front of him as if searching for something that was not there. Every now and again he would turn to one of his associates and whisper something, then turn back to his notes. He was pleased with the jury selection, the two women, he felt, could be swayed to sympathize with his client. It would be harder with the shop keepers...

The prosecuting attorney, Dale Attabuoy, looked over his notes, and spoke quietly to Alistair. He turned back to his notes as the sweat carried the attorney's black spectacles down his adequate nose to rest at the tip. He removed them, wiped his face with his large white handkerchief then slid them back in place. He scanned the jurors earnest faces. Dale Attabuoy knew these people as Albert Slie could never have known them. Dale worked with them, and for them, even went to church with some of them. Some people would look at these folks as country bumpkins, but not Dale, he knew them very well. He watched Judge Boyel as he prepared to hear the case before him. Dale saw the judge peer through his spectacles, and sigh. He was an older man, just ready to retire...

"George Potter, do you mind if I call you Spike?" This had been a long week of heat and a stream of witnesses. Dale was about to pull out his Ace and throw it on the table.

"No, sir. Everyone calls me that..."

"Now, Spike," Dale continued his questioning, "tell us what you knew previous to the explosion. Don't be afraid, now..."

"Well, sir, I'd heard rumors that they were out to get 'that preacher'. I had it from a...a very good source that they wanted to shut him up."

"Now, Spike, you are obligated to tell the truth. It's very important that you tell the truth. Can you give us a better idea of what you mean?"

"I have two older brothers. They were paid to cause problems for David Pickerell...but because Alph Thompson was running short on his local goons..."

"Objection!" Albert Slie jumped up.

"Objection sustained. Please, young man, watch your phraseology..." the judge ruled.

"Ah, well, Alph had lost several of his right hand ...ah, workmen...and he called in a couple of goons...or I mean guys from Chicago to do the job. They were supposed to..."

"Objection! Supposition is not admissable..."

"Sustained. Please rephrase that last statement."

"The men were hired to set fire to the Pickerell's house." Spike wiped the sweat from his face.

"Objection. How does this boy know all of this...?"

"Overruled--let the boy finish his testimony!"

"George E. Potter, please finish, and answer the question. How do you know all of this?" The Judge instructed Spike.

"I was there when Mr. Thompson and Mr. Winsom made the deal."

There was a loud gasp as the boy's words hit the audience like a hard fist to the stomach.

"What do you mean, boy?" Dale encouraged.

"Sam and I was on our way uptown. Often times I'm confused with my brothers, 'cause we kinda look the same, and this big car eased up beside us and next thing I know we're sittin' listenin' to 'the deal' and what we're supposed to do. Since Lute and Zooker and their guys had been picked up that made Alph shorthanded, so Alph was bringing these other fellas in. Willie--that's my brother, and so's Sam, they were supposed to help, but Alph and Royal Winsom decided..."

There was another gasp. No wonder Mr. Winsom had been so sick lately. No wonder he was not here at the trial. His only son implicated in this sordid mess!

"Yes, sir, it was Willie and Sam what took the money from the hotel, and broke them windows. Yes, sir, they were supposed to make Gene Wade look bad...he's a friend you know, of David Pickerell. I felt so bad for my friend...Gene's as honest as...as...well as this day is hot. I just didn't know what to do...Willie and Sam...they're my brothers, but Gene's my brother too! Gene...I'm so sorry. So sorry!" Spike's head dropped into his hands and tears fell onto the wood floor. "So sorry!" echoed in the silent court room.

More...or Less?

"My first girl was so good. She did everything perfectly. Never a problem. My second girl...she was different. Her teacher told me one time, 'Virginia, if you had only one child you would have thought you were the most perfect parent in the world..."

I love that story from an acquaintance of mine. She went on to comfort me with, "You know, Mrs. W. if you only had two children you would have thought you were the worst parent ever..."

"I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all. For man also knoweth not his time: as the fishes that are taken in an evil net, and as the birds that are caught in the snare, even so are the sons of men snared in an evil time, when it falleth suddenly upon them."
(Ecclesiastes 9:11-12)

There are old wives sayings such as: the fly on the top today will be the fly on the bottom tomorrow.

And what does that have to do with Ecclesiastes? Just this, life has a way of putting everyone in their place. About the time I think I have at least 90% of the answers...I find that I haven't even got 1% of the questions. The race is not always to the swift--nor the battle to the strong. Neither bread to the wise, nor riches...but time and chance happeneth to them all. That's us, time and chance happeneth to US.

"Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall."
(1 Corinthians 10:12)

Another wives saying that I remember was, "the bigger they are, the harder they fall" which goes along with I Corinthians.

What makes a person better than their peers? Or better than any one else for that matter? Some folks think it is money, or possessions, but what is it really? You can take money and possessions away from a king and they still act like...a king. You can take money and possessions away from a person of good character and they still will act like...a person of good character.

"And he spake also this parable unto certain who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and set all others at nought: Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I get. But the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote his breast, saying, God, be thou merciful to me a sinner. I say unto you, This man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled; but he that humbleth himself shall be exalted."
(Luke 18:9-14)

Jesus was a righteous individual. He spoke with authority. He told Some people things they didn't want to hear: "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which outwardly appear beautiful, but inwardly are full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness." (Matthew 23:27)

And he spoke things to others they never expected to hear: "And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. And they that sat at meat with him began to say within themselves, Who is this that even forgiveth sins? And he said unto the woman, Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace."
(Luke 7:48-50)

Those of us who have been washed in the blood of Jesus know that we can go to Jesus and he will continually be there for us. What counts isn't that we are perfect, but that He is perfect.

"And he hath said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my power is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Wherefore I take pleasure in weaknesses, in injuries, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong."
(2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

Let us each fall upon the mercies of God imploring his forgiveness for our failures, and his grace and strength to rise up and continue to walk in God's way, remembering that His grace is sufficient, His power is perfect, and that:

"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the exceeding greatness of the power may be of God, and not from ourselves; we are pressed on every side, yet not straitened; perplexed, yet not unto despair;"
(2 Corinthians 4:7-8)

Hallelujah! What a Saviour!

Shadows

The picture is of an empty dusty road in late summer. Green leaves not moving at all, frame the downward slant of brown ribbon with only shadows of those looking on from behind the picture taker. It brings to mind life. Life with all of its past and all of its promised future.

Shadows of the people and events of our past can be specters like Casper the friendly ghost. Specters that remind us of good times and good memories, that we may smile at with fond remembrance or with a sigh and the thought of, 'where have the years/days gone? Or they may be the haunting specters that bring sorrow, shame, or remorse. Specters that are just as well forgotten. Or the sigh of 'what might have been'.

Life for young people is usually full of a promise of the future. Things may be great as they are--and the picture looks to be as rosy as the present. If they aren't in the best circumstance...well, there's always tomorrow, Scarlet, when surely things will be better.

What happens when people get to the middle...or end of life? Their future promise is limited, perhaps, but may it not be by their own short sightedness.
Busy hands and a busy life (not a busybody, by the way) are a recipe for a happy outlook on life. If a person sits and thinks on miserable things, they will be just that miserable.

Pictures of life filled with what? What do you fill your life with?

If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.
(1 Corinthians 15:19)

What a Saviour!

There and Back Again S31

"Look here! We've got a letter!" Jed almost ran into the living room.

"Oh, read it quick!" Agnes lay gasping on the couch fanning herself while Nissa sat playing on the floor.

Jed's hand shook slightly as he carefully opened the envelope and began to read:

"Dear Aunt and Uncle, and baby Nissa, We arrived in England fine..." he continued. "The letters of introduction that Sir Hughes sent with us worked wonders. With the folks Alistair knew and Sir Hughes' letters we have been in some really posh homes. Aunt you would love the food and...in a few weeks we will be leaving for France and the continent. We are looking forward to a visit with Mr. Bouchette, and perhaps Lord Hughes is in Paris also..."

"What a nice letter, so glad...everyone sounds fine. In a few weeks they will be turning toward home," Agnes said with a sigh.

Jed watched her pale drawn face out of the corner of his eye. He sighed, it broke his heart to see Agnes feeling poorly, and this ghastly summer heat had intensified her sickness. He bent and clapped his hands at baby Nissa. She laughed and cooed at him then crawled over and stood up holding on to his worn and faded overall pant leg.

"That's it come to daddy, sweetie. Well, now aren't you the cat's meow! Look at that, Agnes! Ain't she just sumpthin!" he lifted the smiling, drooling baby on to his lap dabbing at her chin with his handkerchief. "Two more teeth, and she's almost walking already! Sure a smart little tyke too..."

Agnes' face lit with a smile. "You two sure make a pair!" she laughed out loud and sat up gingerly.

"Now don't get up...you just stay still. You need some water...something to drink?" Jed offered anxiously.

"I'm alright. I just need to change positions. Gene's letter was a breath of fresh air, and the world looks better when I can sit up. I'm so tired of feeling puny! This hot air is so stifling!"

Jed ruminated on an idea as he dandled Nissa on his knee and waggled his fingers at her. She laughed and tried to catch them.

"There's some cold chicken in the box, why don't I just fix up a picnic basket, and we'll take it down to the creek for supper. It'll get you out of the house...if there's any breeze we should be able to find it down there. What do you think?"

"It sounds like...but I don't think I can carry Nissa all the way down there, Jed," the hopeful look died out of her face.

"Didn't mean for you to carry nothing, Peaches," he smiled at her. "I'll hitch up old Sally, and we'll drive down in the wagon. "You go on over to your Ma, Punkin--" he said standing Nissa on the rough, tickley carpet. She laughed and bent to pat the flower pattern under her little pink fat baby feet.

"Come to Mother," Agnes smiled and waved her hands at the baby. "Come on, dolly," she encouraged with a semblance of her old vigor.

"It sure is hot!" Agnes watched the waves of heat rise off the brown pasture grass as the wagon groaned and rolled slowly toward the creek.

"Whoa there, Sal, old girl! He pulled back on the lines, and wrapped them around the brake--from habit--not of necessity. He jumped down from the wagon seat, and laid out the old quilt and some pillows under the gnarled old elm tree. Last of all he brought the hamper of food and placed it carefully on the quilt.

"No, I've never seen worse. This heat's just baking everything, just like we are in an oven. " He said as he walked back to the wagon. "Here," he took the baby then held out an arm to help Agnes down from the wagon seat. "Everything's ready," he steadied her steps to the spot under the elm tree where he had spread the old quilt.

Agnes leaned against his tall lean figure. Odd, she thought how the heat baked the smells of the world around her. She could smell the sweat that ran down his body, the parchedness of the earth around her, the salty horsey smell from old Sally. She could even smell the heat.

There was not an ounce of anything but muscle on Jed's wiry frame. That was a family trait, Agnes guessed. Most all the Wade men she knew were the same. Tall and large boned frame-wise, with muscle like iron. They did not look like much for their size, but...

"It hasn't been too much?" Jed arranged the quilt, helped her sit down. He came back with the last old pillow from the wagon. "Here now, this ought ta help you get comfortable..."

She leaned wearily against the solid elm tree and closed her eyes. A smile lit her face when she opened her eyes and looked into his worried face.

"No, Jed...it hasn't been too much," she lifted her hand to caress his smooth cheek. "Jedidiah Wade--have I ever told you just how dear you are to me? I remember that first time...that ball game. You were so tall, so good looking...I almost couldn't hit the ball...but I was determined..."

"A scrawny kid in pigtails and freckles,"

"You weren't supposed to remember the freckles," she teased and ran her fingertip lightly around his ear. The effort became too much, and her hand dropped to the quilt.

He squeezed her hand lightly, "Here, I have some fruit juice...I put it down in the well so it's cool. It'll be good for you...Nissa!"

Jed and Agnes laughed, as baby Nissa sat beside the picnic basket and opened the one side of it. Up, down, up, down went the lid. Next she began to pull the napkins out that covered the top of the plates.

"Hand them here, lambie--" Jed encouraged gently.

Nissa turned and smiled at him, handing the napkin over, then she pulled out the next one...and so forth.

After their cold lunch, Agnes lay back, her head resting on the old pillow. She watched Jed and Nissa playing in the pitiful excuse of a creek. Some years it sang with life, but today there was just a trickle of water. It looks just like I feel, she thought, not even enough water for a mosquito. The cold fried chicken, dried apple pie, and pickled green bean salad had been just right, and the cool fruit juice hit the spot. She fell asleep listening to Jed's voice singing, 'Bye a baby buntin' to the baby.

Much later, Agnes woke slowly to the soft breathing of Jed and Nissa sleeping soundly beside her, the glimmer of the first evening star shimmered in the hot evening sky. She did not want to move, did not want to break the spell that hung around the trio. Everything was so peaceful and perfect in the early evening shadows...even old Sally tethered on the sapling next to them slumbered, her old gray head drooping heavily.

Jed turned over, his eyes opened slowly. "Did you have a good sleep?" He smiled, reached over the baby and caressed the loose hair out of Agnes' face. "How long has it been?"

"How long has what been?" she asked, her face clouded.

"We have been so busy the last...oh, I'd say million years...we haven't had time for many days like this. Days to just spend...like this."

"Well, I'd say it has been...oh--about a million years at least."

"That's what I thought--" they both laughed.

"I wish I may, I wish I might..." she began.

"Just what do you wish?"

"Hmm, well, I don't know. I'd like to feel better...I'd like the hot weather to...to be cooler, you know. If you could make a wish, what would you wish for?"

"Peaches, if you felt better...I would have everything I could ever want. The Bible tells us to be content with our food and raiment. We have food and clothes. We have Nissa here, and God willing, Gene will be coming home to us...probably before his next letter arrives in the mail. What more could any thinking man ask for?"

"A lot of men ask for a lot more than that, but I feel like the richest woman alive. I've never been more content. Just look at that sky..."

They watched in contented silence as more stars joined the first one.

"It's time to be heading back to the stable, Mabel," Jed sat up and rubbed a hand across his face and ran his fingers through his hair. His dark brown hair stood on end.

"Oh, how I love thee, let me count the ways," she recited, laughed, and twirled her fingers through his hair. "I don't know when the last time was when I felt better!"

"Then we'll have to do this every day...until you feel completely well," Jed carried the basket back to the wagon as Agnes picked up the baby...and the pillow...

Jed woke early the next morning putting his hand out he touched an empty bed. He lay quietly, wondering where Agnes was. He heard some pans rattle down stairs in the kitchen. His feet hit the floor, and he grabbed his shirt and overalls that hung on pegs behind the bedroom door.

Agnes turned and smiled as he entered the kitchen still hitching his last overall strap on the button, "Good morning, you lazy man!" she chided and handed him a cup of coffee.

"You had me scared for a time there, woman. Here let me help with that..." he set his coffee down, and took the bucket out to the hand pump and brought in the morning's water.

"Don't you be gettin' too rambunctious now. You take it easy. Just 'cause you feel better this morning..."

"After breakfast, I'm going to sit on the porch with my sewing," she began to dish up the oatmeal while the bacon drained. "You could get Nissa. I hear her waking up..."

Agnes heard his work boots thump on the stair steps and Nissa clapping her hands and squealing in delight. How comforting a good man like Jed was she thought with a long sigh. Some men were like the rolling tide, here today and gone tomorrow, but Jedidiah was someone you could depend on through and through.

Jed dried and put the last plate back in its place in the cupboard. "Are you sure you want to sit outside?" he fretted.

"I am kind of tired of a sudden. It's nap time for baby...maybe I'll just rest for a short while...before I sit out side."

"There!, That's what I was concerned about!" he frowned. "But you just lay down for awhile. There isn't anything you need to do right now any way..."

"There's always plenty to do..."

"Course there is, but nothing you need to do right now. Thought I'd drive into town after bit and pick up the mail, and stop and get the paper too. You and baby can ride along. I'll carry Nissa up to her crib. Come on, little one!" he scooped up the baby and held Agnes' elbow and helped her to the stair door. "Go on upstairs, lay down and rest..."

Agnes slept fitfully, dreaming of storm clouds, rain, and sand. Sand flying in her face, sticking to her arms...ugh!she rolled over and groaned. This heat is so oppressive! She wiped the sweat from her face and lay still.

What a blessing, baby was such a happy child--Agnes sat up as quiet noises came from Nissa's room. Thump, thump, thump...she heard Jed's boots on the steps. She mopped at the sweat on her face and in a careful fashion eased over to her dressing table. With a small soft brush she pulled the hair back from her face and secured it in a roll on the back of her head.

"Ready to go?" Jed stood behind her.

"Just about. Don't think I'll change clothes. This isn't my best dress, but it should be good enough to sit in the automobile for a ride?" she said smoothing the collar and twirking the sleeves of her light cotton dress into place.

"Peaches, I don't know that I've ever seen such a pretty dress. You are absolutely gorgeous in it," he smiled and winked. "All you need is your hat and we'll be ready to go!"

"Oh, go on with you!" she pretended annoyance, but Jed could tell she was pleased as she picked up her hat from the dressing table and began pinning it in place.

"I'll just get the baby. What clothes do you want me to put on her?" his voice was muffled as it came from the baby's nursery. A little room that had been a large closet just off their room, transformed with a little paper and paint.

"Just a little shift should be enough...too hot to put on more..." Agnes walked to the door. "I'll check the diaper...then we'll be off."

The breeze from the open window was hot, but at least it was a breeze. Agnes leaned her head back and held Nissa securely on her as they bumped along the gravel road into town. Jed parked on the square in the shade of a large maple tree.

"Won't be long," he said as he slammed his door shut and hurried off.

Agnes opened her eyes and watched as the few people out and about walked along the sidewalks. They wandered into the dry goods store, or one of the grocery stores, or joined the group of men seated in front of the feed store along the north side street. The activity down the street caught her eye as several taxis pulled up at the Littleton Hotel, and began unloading luggage from the rail station.

She looked back at the group of men in front of the feed store and saw Jed coming out of the store walking toward where they were parked. How had they gotten past thirty and not been aware of it? Jed was still a handsome man, but where had the years gone between their first meeting...and their life now? How had he become--dare she even think it? --Middle-aged?

He still walked with a spring in his step, that same purposeful gait that he had always had. Was it just a tad slower? She leaned her head back again as Nissa played in the seat.

He opened the door and slid in. Putting the Oldsmobile into gear he drove slowly around the square and parked again...in front of Greene's Ice Cream Shoppe.

He hopped out, shut his door, and before Agnes had time to protest, he opened her door, "A treat for my girls," he said and helped her into the cool parlor.

"We'll take two dishes of cream please," he told the waiter then carried them over to where his girls waited perched on a wire sweet heart chair.

"Now, now," Agnes cautioned as Nissa's pink little mouth puckered up greedily for more. "I don't think Nissa should have too much..." she frowned and continued to give little bites to the greedy baby.

"Probably not, but a little shouldn't hurt, I'd say..."

Agnes noticed some of the passengers from the hotel walking in the door. "Oh, Jed, I shouldn't have come in..."

"What's the matter?" he was dabbing at Nissa's sticky little face with a napkin.

Agnes ducked her head in embarrassment, "I should have at least changed my dress. If I'd known we were getting out," she said thinking about the stylish clothes of the new customers.

Jed looked up from Nissa, to Agnes, then his mouth dropped open for a second.

Agnes just caught her dish in time as he scrambled up like he'd dropped a hot coal in his pocket.

"What a sight for sore eyes!"

Agnes mouth dropped open--for just a second before she remembered her manners.

"Oh! Oh!" and she pushed away from the stylish little table before Nissa did damage to the remains of their dishes.

The air was full of the excited babble of voices each one trying to make them self heard and understood.

"Alright, now," Alistair held up his hands for quiet, and finally quiet reined. "So many questions...let's answer one by one now. First off, we just arrived. Second off, yes, we had a tolerable good time. Third off, now I don't know if that's quite right good grammar...."

"Alright, alright," he held up his hands again. "I see you aren't intrested in grammar right now. "Well, it's like this. We were supposed to be back in two weeks, as ya'll know. A few weeks ago we got this," he said as he pulled a telegram out of his suit coat pocket, "because a' this," and he lightly flopped down a copy of the day's paper. The headline blared: "ALPH THOMPSON TRIAL STARTS MONDAY!"

Jed and Agnes stared at the paper like it was the devil himself, then they stared at each other, and finally they stared at their friends. Someone took the baby from Agnes, and gentle hands helped Agnes and Jed to their chairs.

"We didn't know," Jed spoke the first logical thing in his mind. "We hadn't heard."

"No, of course not," Alistair comforted. "Course you wouldn't...couldn't know."

From somewhere a 'tonic' was handed to the astounded pair. They sipped carefully at the cold concoctions.

"This is pretty good. What is it?" Jed spoke for the both of them.

"Trade secret," David grinned at them. "I used to work at a soda fountain back home."

"Soon's we get through here we'll head out for home. We can give you the details then...Oh, one detail we'd like to add," Alistair took Margaret's gloved hand. "I'd like to introduce you to Mrs. Alistair Brockle," he smiled.

Margaret turned rosy pink, but she smiled back at him. "Alistar!" she exclaimed.

"Well, now, ya'll didn't want these folks to think bad thoughts here, now did ya?" he patted her hand.

"Well, I never!" she rolled her big brown eyes at him.

Gizzmos

"Well, it will be about two hours," my husband says.

I groan inwardly, and maybe even slightly outwardly. We are waiting for our tires to be rotated and balanced, and that means we get to wander around the store...for much longer than we had anticipated.

We do have some shopping to do, of course, but it goes into slow motion. We stop at the little places to sample different items, the Sunburt Wows, the Whoopti Woos, the shrimps that sing and dance (well, almost). Some of the things don't taste too bad at that, not too sure about the Zigger Zag Zoos--but we continue to wander.

We've been by this spot several times, the spot with the batter dipped something or other--"baked...doesn't have all that oil," the woman with a slight nasal twang repeats her speel as new consumers pick up their goodie on a tooth pick.

"But," the man says as he eyes the treat, "it's the oil that makes it good."

The huckster blinks rapidly like someone waking from a dream. "Well, I suppose so," she looks confused.

Everyone knows we aren't supposed to argue with, or contradict common knowledge, and the common knowledge is that you HAVE to get rid of the OIL!

Later, as we have been around the ring again (and perhaps again) we see the same couple looking at cereals, cream filled doughnuts, cookies, and whatever is behind the glass covered doors.

"That looks like a very good diet item," the man is saying with a sarcastic pucker on his face.

I snicker and elbow my son. We both laugh. Having caught the earlier exchange, I had thought they were people with a different eye for adventure.

Anne of Green Gables always calls them 'kindred spirits'.

My daughter says that I'm a pessimist. My son says that all realists are pessimists. I try to explain that a realist just happens to see the things the way they are and...

It is as if you go through life and see what life is, how people are, and how things happen. Like the show says, 'the good, the bad, and the ugly'. You know how things are, and even though you know how you would like them to be, you prepare for the jolt that comes when it doesn't happen the way you wish it would because the good doesn't come very often. And of course if good things do happen to occur...well, that is just lovely.

Rejoice in the Lord always:
again I will say, Rejoice.
Let your forbearance be known unto all men.
The Lord is at hand.
In nothing be anxious;
but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.
(Philippians 4:4-7)

Today

I cradle a cup of hot coffee to warm my hands, and watch the birds flitting around under the bird feeder. The winter is bitterly beautiful. From an insider looking out it is picture perfect, like a Christmas cards with glittering snow heaped in mounds. Like icing on a cake, so beautiful, and yet....

"Brr!" I shiver as I open the front door and peer up the hill. I squint into the distant white landscape with its blue and purple horizon looking for movement that would...or at least could be my husband returning from the daily chore of feeding and watering our horses. The branches of the trees--God's wind chimes--tinkle as the wind whines softly across the snow.

The images on our computer screen shimmer with the colors of light dancing across the ice and snow. It brings to mind the fairy stories...something you can read in a book. Something you can look at in a picture or a painting, but....

Like the birds flitting under the feeder, we don't just look at the scenery, or just read about it. We live here in the reality of cold. Bitter cold, snow cold, yes, beautiful bitter cold snow. Our world is here.

"So what do you do here in winters like this? Just sit at home?"

My husband is at a vegetable grower's convention held upteen years ago at the air port. A man from California is observing the runways and the snow 'out there'.

No, we put on our 'gear' and go about our daily lives, occasionally getting stuck, digging ourselves out, doing what we can.

Like the poet writes:

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow --A PSALM OF LIFE--

Our footprints may not be in the sands of time, and perhaps it would be more accurate to say they are in the snow of life. The encouragement is still ours, let us be doing what we can to encourage the poor souls of this life to turn to the Master for life, for love, and most of all, for salvation.

Really Rich

So, it's a new year and a new day...Isn't this the day we are supposed to have our 'New year's' resolutions in place?

---I resolve to live better, think better, do better...in short be better...in the new year. So the thought goes.---

"It is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all."
It is better to have resolved and lost than never have resolved at all. We should treat every day when we rise as if it is the first day of the new year, and consequently as if it is the first day of our 'new resolution'. The first day is always the easiest. We start out eager and committed to our resolutions. It is the second, and the third, and the...that become hard and we falter on those days.

So, here is a salute to this new year and all its (good) hopes, dreams, plans, and yes, resolutions. May all the good things we resolve come true. May we truly live, love, and laugh for the best that is in each one of us. And may we each truly glorify God, and be rich toward Him and those who are a part of His creation.

(1 Timothy 6:17-19)

Charge them that are rich in this present world, that they be not highminded, nor have their hope set on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy; that they do good, that they be rich in good works, that they be ready to distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on the life which is life indeed.