Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“…long hair is given to her as a covering.”

1 Corinthians 11:15

Agatha Tabitha Freegrace had been reading her Grandfather’s journal at her favorite spot overlooking the prairie, and also the mountains, for some time now. Papa was fast asleep, taking a well-deserved afternoon nap. Isaac Freegrace was always helping other families in the community, assisting parents with the care of their invalid children, getting fields ready for planting, bringing Agatha’s pies to those struggling through hard times, or whatever else he could do to share the love of God in Sunshine Salvation Valley. For the past week, he’d been helping the new Norwegian family with their youngest daughter Liv, who had come down with Scarlet Fever. Agatha had waited for her father to come home late into the night, eventually giving into her tired eyes and curling up under her grandmother’s quilt with the enigmatic pattern, falling fast asleep. When she awoke in the morning, Isaac was just getting back from the Eriksen’s, the fatigue showing on his face. Agatha warned him not to run himself dry and ordered him straight to bed, making him a kettle of tea for his soar throat, and offering to take care of the farm chores for the day.

After she had finished feeding the chickens, milking old Mary and Martha, and taking care of a few other odds and ends, Agatha set off to enjoy the day, alternating between staring off into the distance and reading her grandfather’s wise words. Agatha sighed as the afternoon settled into dusk—what a lovely afternoon it had been. She couldn’t imagine anything that could ruin an afternoon like this. She untied the blue silken ribbon at the end of her long blonde braid, letting her hair blow in the wind and breathing in the sweet smells of the wild flowers blooming in abundance on the prairie.

Thank you God for my lovely home, for our productive farm, and for a strong healthy father. Thank you for the prairie and the mountains, and the church my grandfather, A.T. Freegrace, started for the settlers. And thank you God for Clark wherever he is…

Just then, Agatha’s prayer was interrupted by a bright bolt of lightning striking down on the prairie, and lighting up the dim dusk. A large clap of thunder that seemed to shake the very earth under Agatha’s feet followed it. The brewing storm seemed like God’s wrath coming from the sky. Agatha clung to her mother’s locket, which hung delicately around her neck, as an uneasy feeling crept into her heart. It was if the lightning were a harbinger of something awful on the horizon—something that would give the plot…er her life, conflict. She grabbed her grandfather’s journal, picked up her skirt, and ran for the house to wake her father. As she reached the door of her home and yelled for her him, a familiar voice speaking in all caps startled her:

REJOICE IN ME!

She looked over her shoulder; it seemed as if the voice came from right behind her. She turned her head just in time to see another lightning bolt reach down from the sky and strike their barn. “Papa! Papa! The barn’s been struck!” Agatha screamed to her father in desperation as she watched the first flames start to rise from the beloved building that held so many beautiful memories. She grabbed some of the potato sacks they kept by the front door, and ran toward the burning barn, unsure of what to do. She prayed in italics and all caps to get God’s attention:

Dear God, help us, I don’t know what to do.

Agatha ran to the barn doors, running into the smoke filled building. She ran to Mary and Martha’s stalls, shooing them out into the cold evening, away from their burning home. Tears fell from her eyes, as the smoke stung them and the bitter tragedy of it all stung her heart. Next, she went to the horses’ stalls loosing Hezekiah and Misach as well. She thanked God that the chickens were in a separate place and that the farm was one in a Christian fiction novel, and so only had a few token animals. “Get out of here y’all!” Tabitha ran back out of the barn, coughing. Her father was coming out of the house with buckets. He ran toward the watering troughs, dipping the buckets deep into the water, and then emptying them on the burning barn. Agatha picked up one of the potato sacks and began to beat at the flames consuming the once strong structure built by her grandfather, A.T. Freegrace, who had made the long journey West to start a church for the settlers.

“Agatha! I think we just need to give up, it’s too dangerous to fight it!” Isaac Freegrace recognized how futile their efforts were against the raging flames.

“No Papa! No! I’m going to save the barn! Can’t we get help?” Agatha beat at the flames with a renewed violence and intensity as her lungs continued to fill with smoke.

“By the time we get help, it will be all over Agatha.” He came over and grabbed her shoulders, trying to guide her away from the barn, which was now even more engulfed in orange flame. The fire burned at the pace and intensity that the plot called for, defying every scientific law.

“No! God can’t let this happen! He can’t!” Agatha struggled out of her father’s grip and picked up one of the abandoned buckets, throwing its contents on the barn. The water only sizzled on the flames as the fire roared on, as if to mock her.

“Agatha! It’s already gone! We have to leave it!” This time Isaac grabbed Agatha more forcefully.

“No Papa!” Isaac pulled Agatha away from the fire as she kicked and struggled to get free of his grip. Just as he was able to get her to the door of their home, one of the large central supports of the barn fell with a mighty thump.

“See Agatha! It’s dangerous! Just stay with me.” Her father’s words didn’t reassure her.

Lightning and Thunder still filled the sky, and as Agatha watched the barn fall to the flames of the fire, small droplets of rain began to come down from the sky, like God’s tears. Agatha sobbed in her father’s arms as the rain sped to a downpour, soaking Agatha’s long blonde hair, and smudging the soot on her snow white face. She and her father watched as the water began to put out the fire, but it was too late for their barn; as the flames were put out, only a soggy wooden skeleton remained. A new feeling welled up in Agatha’s heart, an uncomfortable emotion that she did not recognize. None of the token scripture verses she was quoting in her head could make her feel better. It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair! Agatha was experiencing what real people call anger and sadness. It was as if the world wasn’t perfect anymore! Her heart felt as if it was turning to stone within her. “NO,” she thought, “I will not let this get me, just like Grandfather, A.T. Freegrace, who started a church for the settlers, said—I will rejoice!” Agatha’s hope was holding on by a thread. As she looked at the charred barn remains smoking in the falling rain, she prayed that nothing else would happen to her family—as long as she and her father were okay, she could make it, as long as nothing else bad happened.