New Beginnings
Peter loved his parents. The dreams came and went, night after night. Mabria would answer the screams of the young boy. She would just sing and rock him back to sleep. To Mabria, it always seemed that if she could just get him past these first few months, he would be ok. To Peter, how can I live without them?
The days before had been long for everyone. The work never seemed to end. Getting in the crops was such a challenge in this weather. So cold, out of nowhere. Wasn’t it just so warm just last week? The chill had come in quickly, and so his father had sent him to the fields to help with the crop. They needed this crop. So many came and went through the farm, but they could not buy the food for them to meet the needs without fear of raising suspicions in town. Mama always had a soup on, and lots and lots of potatoes. Oh, the smell of her home baked bread filled the air the minute you got close to home. Peter loved coming home at the end of these long days. Mama worried for him, being so young. So he lapped up the extra attention from her. His long lanky legs carried him across the fields when the bell would ring that the day was done. His feet seemed to come alive at the sound of it, knowing what was at the other end for his 9 year old stomach that never seemed to really be full. This day would be different. The bell rang so early, Peter couldn’t believe it. And it did not stop. It just kept ringing and ringing and ringing. He took off across the field with worry. He actually didn’t see many others coming. What was going on? Then Mabria came and met him at the front of the house. He could see some of those strange men that had been hanging around town out front, loading up the folks who came up from the cellars. Oh no, and dogs, dogs everywhere, barking and barking. And somebody kept ringing that bell, why? Why were they ringing the bell? Then mama and papa came falling through that front door. Mabria grabbed his arm and his eyes caught his mama’s tear filled eyes as Mabria dragged him to the side of the house, into the lean-to. He wanted mama, not Mabria. He wanted mama.
“Stay in here Peter, I got us a spot, your mama said stay here,” she whispered.
This stopped Peter in his tracks; he always did what mama said. He looked through the cracks of the boards. The loud cracks of rifles rang out. Those men, they shot mama and papa, right there, right there in front of God and everybody. Peter was broken and fell to the floor. Mabria rolled him into a shallow hole she had just dug, climbed on top of him, and drug a board over the both of them and held her breath. None too soon, the dogs and the men were in the shed. Mabria knew it would take a miracle, and prayed as fervently as she knew how with out speaking aloud. The men and dogs stood right on top of them, they could feel their breath, and they could feel the heat of the chase right through those boards. God did move. God was real. Mabria saw that for sure that day. She hoped she could explain it to Peter someday. How God had rescued them. For some reason, He took Peter’s folks, but had left them to survive.
“All of us knew, all of us knew,” she thought to herself. “How dangerous this is. We all counted it a privilege to serve God in rescuing the slaves that had made it across that Ohio River. We all counted the cost, and decided being a part of the Underground Railroad was worth the risk,” the thoughts consumed her.
When those men left and the last dog left out of the shed, without a hint of them knowing Mabria and Peter were beneath that board, the tears fell from Mabria’s face onto Peter’s stone cold face of horror. She was such a small woman, petite and all of that. Beautiful to look at for anyone who took the time. Her heart pounded for her Savior, and she trusted Him in everything she
Peter loved his parents. The dreams came and went, night after night. Mabria would answer the screams of the young boy. She would just sing and rock him back to sleep. To Mabria, it always seemed that if she could just get him past these first few months, he would be ok. To Peter, how can I live without them?
The days before had been long for everyone. The work never seemed to end. Getting in the crops was such a challenge in this weather. So cold, out of nowhere. Wasn’t it just so warm just last week? The chill had come in quickly, and so his father had sent him to the fields to help with the crop. They needed this crop. So many came and went through the farm, but they could not buy the food for them to meet the needs without fear of raising suspicions in town. Mama always had a soup on, and lots and lots of potatoes. Oh, the smell of her home baked bread filled the air the minute you got close to home. Peter loved coming home at the end of these long days. Mama worried for him, being so young. So he lapped up the extra attention from her. His long lanky legs carried him across the fields when the bell would ring that the day was done. His feet seemed to come alive at the sound of it, knowing what was at the other end for his 9 year old stomach that never seemed to really be full. This day would be different. The bell rang so early, Peter couldn’t believe it. And it did not stop. It just kept ringing and ringing and ringing. He took off across the field with worry. He actually didn’t see many others coming. What was going on? Then Mabria came and met him at the front of the house. He could see some of those strange men that had been hanging around town out front, loading up the folks who came up from the cellars. Oh no, and dogs, dogs everywhere, barking and barking. And somebody kept ringing that bell, why? Why were they ringing the bell? Then mama and papa came falling through that front door. Mabria grabbed his arm and his eyes caught his mama’s tear filled eyes as Mabria dragged him to the side of the house, into the lean-to. He wanted mama, not Mabria. He wanted mama.
“Stay in here Peter, I got us a spot, your mama said stay here,” she whispered.
This stopped Peter in his tracks; he always did what mama said. He looked through the cracks of the boards. The loud cracks of rifles rang out. Those men, they shot mama and papa, right there, right there in front of God and everybody. Peter was broken and fell to the floor. Mabria rolled him into a shallow hole she had just dug, climbed on top of him, and drug a board over the both of them and held her breath. None too soon, the dogs and the men were in the shed. Mabria knew it would take a miracle, and prayed as fervently as she knew how with out speaking aloud. The men and dogs stood right on top of them, they could feel their breath, and they could feel the heat of the chase right through those boards. God did move. God was real. Mabria saw that for sure that day. She hoped she could explain it to Peter someday. How God had rescued them. For some reason, He took Peter’s folks, but had left them to survive.
“All of us knew, all of us knew,” she thought to herself. “How dangerous this is. We all counted it a privilege to serve God in rescuing the slaves that had made it across that Ohio River. We all counted the cost, and decided being a part of the Underground Railroad was worth the risk,” the thoughts consumed her.
When those men left and the last dog left out of the shed, without a hint of them knowing Mabria and Peter were beneath that board, the tears fell from Mabria’s face onto Peter’s stone cold face of horror. She was such a small woman, petite and all of that. Beautiful to look at for anyone who took the time. Her heart pounded for her Savior, and she trusted Him in everything she
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