Why Amy Hyperventilated

After my last email, things looked up decidedly. Michelle Bessette came home and was a great encouragement, if only because she, too, has lived a crazy life and is on the upside. She has lived almost a year with no electricity and no water; she has had her children coloring in parkas as they redid a house without heat in the winter; she has lived in a 14'x60' trailer for three years (which is a good bit bigger than our 8'x28' trailer, and she did say that their home had burned down shortly before that, so they didn't have much stuff--but still! A person who has lived through all this!).

I was reminded that many missionaries, many pioneers of the past, and many poor people around the world even today would be THRILLED with an instant house, even one only 200 (or 400) square feet. Rather than looking at the trailer as a good space to inhabit temporarily, all I could see was how my beautiful possessions wouldn't fit in the trailer. There is no room for a piano, a dining room table, a big comfy leather chair, or a mattress. But hopefully there will be room for some bookcases. And that is good. Good perspective.

Then we ate dinner, and tried the Bessette's homegrown potatoes. Wow! Abraham probably ate six helpings, which thrilled Dennis to no end. I know what we'll need to grow next year. (And bush hog neighbor Butch mentioned that he could dig a root cellar in just a couple of hours, so we could even have root cellar storage. Nice!)

We slept Wednesday night in our tent, again in the rain, but we were (mostly) dry, and well fed and happy.

I awoke the next day ready to stock up the trailer with what possessions I could. I put together the chrome shelving from Costco (I followed a schematic by myself!) and unloaded my Costco goods. What a relief to have the minivan emptied! I then brought books out from various storage places: the tarp "garage" that was not a good storage place for books and games; the little Corolla; the truck. It felt so good to have a spot for the boys to play indoors, and they played happily after listening to about eight Adventures in Odyssey stories in the car. (They then found the Walkman and traded it all afternoon.)

At one point I tried to start a lasagna garden, laying down all the recently unpacked cardboard boxes, but I couldn't find a level place, or a place where we might not want a root cellar, so I gave up for the moment. I need Phil to help me make decisions like that.

About that time, my phone died, so I plugged it in to the car charger (the only one that works where we are, since we have no electricity). Then Jadon was stung by a wasp in the tent. Thankfully, he did not have an allergic reaction, but it was sad to hear him cry out so piteously. Then he mentioned he was hungry, so I went to find out the time in the car.

The car wouldn't start. Too many tapes? Too many lights on? Too much phone charging? A combination? I don't know.

So I have a car that won't run. No way to call for help (dead phone). No ability to tell the time (without a phone or a car). And the prayed for miracle (that God would resurrect the car battery) was not forthcoming. I didn't trust myself to drive the as-yet-undriven-by-me truck up the incline, and even if I did manage to do so, I didn't know how to jump the car (Adis from work jumped my car once about seven years ago, and I haven't seen it done since).

In retrospect, I probably could have walked to the neighbor's and used their phone. But at the time, the only option seemed to be to drive the Corolla to the Bessette's, and ask for help. Sadly, the Corolla was still full of boxes and office gear. I was going to just take the baby, but Isaiah mentioned it would be better if all but Jadon went. So Jadon stayed at the homestead with his Walkman; Abraham and Isaiah squeezed on top of a box in the backseat, and I put Jonadab on my lap. The grounded-out Corolla managed to back out of the driveway and we were on our way down the dirt road.

I started praying. Outloud. "Oh, Lord, please do not let me kill my children. Oh, Lord, please let us get there safely." All the way down Old Green Mountain. Then to Hog Creek Lane, a one-lane almost-driveway like road that goes down, then over the creek, and up, up, up. I have met a car on that road once, and the only option is for one car to pull off and wait for the other to pass. That would be most unpleasant, as I am not the best at driving a stick shift, and I am not confident pulling off the road anyway.

Going up the Bessette side was another exercise in terror for me. Jonadab would grab the steering wheel, and he has a strong grip. I'd jerk the wheel away and he would cry. I was already crying, so it didn't really matter. Isaiah asked, "Mommy, why are you talking like that?" (Apparently, I was not sounding altogether normal.) In second, the car started to slip back down the slope, and it was grounding out. I threw it in first and revved the engine way too high. I was almost there, but so hysterical I had fogged up all the windows and could hardly see.

Isn't that pathetic? I walked into the Bessette home and Dennis and Michelle, both in the middle of canning the season's bounty, came running over. In a high, panicky voice, I explained the trouble, and how I had never, ever driven my children anywhere without a car seat, "even around Boulder!" Michelle asked, "Whose children are they?" to which I replied, "God's--but I didn't want to kill them!"

Dennis and son Alex drove to the homestead and returned a short time later with a running van. Dennis walked in and said, "Amy, that's why we're here." So dear.

After we all prepared dinner, we all went to the Doug Bush house for Bible study (we were about 90 minutes late). To continue my lawless streak, I couldn't find my glasses and so drove illegally for the second time that day. And because I had left the homestead in panic and haste, I had forgotten diapers for Jonadab, who promptly pooped. A very smelly poop.

In order to stay at the Bush's overnight, I needed a diaper. So we fashioned one from his little swim trunks and part of a supersize Depends for adults. Thankfully it worked all night. We left by 8am, and went to meet the second trailer. Both the trailer guy and Butch the bush hog neighbor (this time with a bobcat) put the trailer in place. (We needed the bobcat because the trailer needed to go in the opposite direction from the first trailer, and the Mac truck delivery vehicle could not get out that way.)

I talked to Butch (age: 66; wives: 3 [currently married to the first real "partner," and I can imagine a marriage without a partner would be tough]) for about an hour. With a nickname "Butch," I wasn't expecting an opera-loving, art museum-going, "If money was no object, I would live in Florence or the West Side of Central Park" sort of kindred-spirit, but there you have it. His wife was off to do some en pleine aire painting, while he redid the plumbing after getting all new granite on every sink surface in their house yesterday.

I typed this whole email (well, a similar one) off my computer battery, and then lost it because, I realize now, Gmail has no way to support emails without internet. I am currently at the Zach Bush's, about to bathe the children and myself so we can go to the Historical Museum in Staunton. They have a few free hours on the first Friday of the month. Fun!