This week I have been reflecting on completing another “year around the sun.” As I thank God for completing this past year and for all the blessings it held, I am reminded of a few times growing up on that farm that could have turned out very differently. There were a few “close encounters” with critters and landscape that could have resulted in injury – or worse. But it is evident that God was always there. Knowing that my huge extended family prayed regularly, I am confident that those prayers sounded much like my daily prayer for my own kids and grandchildren. Each day my prayer is fairly simple and covers everything I ask for. I simply ask God each day to be “their hands, feet, eyes and ears and to protect them wherever they may be”. I feel safe in thinking that many times something similar was said on my behalf more than once. (As well as on behalf of my sisters and our many cousins.)

For many years, my grandparents farm was the gathering place for family reunions, celebrations and even just weekend visits for relatives on both my Granny’s and Grandaddy’s side of the family. Since Grandaddy’s youngest brother lived just one mile down the country road, the five of us were frequently roaming the farm. Grandaddy had another brother that lived just over one hour away and his family were fairly frequent visitors on weekends. With the larger family sizes in the early 1900’s, the age gap was fairly large between my Grandaddy and his younger brothers. The cousins I mention were my mom’s first cousins, they were all basically in the same generation as my sisters and me. When we moved to the farm, my sisters were often called “ the little girls” by these slightly older cousins. The two cousins that lived just one mile away were four and two years older than me, so we were in school together for years and saw each other daily. But, the weekend visits with even more cousins present were the best.

Before the oldest of us could drive, the farm itself was our place of adventure. Granny & Grandaddy had just over 150 acres that included some acreage farmed by distant relatives, some acreage planted with pine trees, some acreage as pasture land, and even some acreage that was basically a swamp.  A good bit of the “pasture land” included a variety of hardwoods that supplied shade for the cows. There was a small retention pond in one area next to what we always called the “sinkhole.” As a young girl, the slope of the land going into that sinkhole looked like a huge canyon!  I am sure it is not nearly as long or deep as it is in my memories.  The sinkhole held lots of interest and fascination for us all, especially after being told numerous times to “never go down to the sinkhole”.  Hmm.  Telling kids “never” sure makes them want to know why, right? 

In the late spring and early summer, wild blackberry bushes grew along many of the fence lines on the farm. Many years, we traveled as a group with buckets and bowls to collect what we could. It was truly an adventure, in the heat, amongst mosquitos, amongst the gnats, and amongst those critters that slither along the ground. It was one of my favorite afternoon adventures. One such afternoon, we began picking berries at the fence line near the pine trees, crossed another fence line and proceeded across that field to another fence line dropping a berry or two into our containers. We tended to walk in a straight line like little ducks between fences, and this time I was bringing up the rear. We neared our final destination and crossed over into the final field. I remember this field being plowed into rows, but nothing was yet growing.

We were about halfway to the last fenceline when I glanced down and saw a large snake within inches of my ankle. I am pretty sure I jumped higher than I ever have or ever will straight up in the air and screamed “snake” at the top of my lungs. One of our dogs, a small rat terrier named To To, was with us and immediately ran over and started barking and charging at what turned out to be a very large rattlesnake. The oldest cousin (who was also the only boy in the group on this day,) told me to run back to the house and get my Grandaddy. He insisted that I was the fastest runner. I am still not so sure about that! He, his sister, and another cousin all picked up rocks and started throwing them at the snake to keep it coiled and in place. But To To kept running at it as well and I was convinced he was going to get bitten. I did not want to leave.

My cousin finally convinced me to run to the house to get Grandaddy. I had to run through half of that field, through another field, the barn area, then finally the yard and into the house. Grandaddy (with his shotgun in hand) and one of my uncles quickly followed me back and the snake was still there, all coiled and angry at all the rocks being thrown at it. To To was still barking, but he was safe as were my sisters and cousins. Grandaddy was successful in killing the snake. Once we were sure it was dead, it was fascinating to see. Stretched out, it was at least five feet long, had 13 rattles on its tail and had very recently eaten a large rodent or rabbit. It appeared to have come from the next fence line we were prepared to empty of blackberries. Sadly, two days later, Grandaddy found one of the other farm dogs dead from a snakebite just on the other side of that fence. It was decided it had mist likely been bitten by that snake just before our encounter with said snake.

When I was in junior college, I lived at home and commuted to classes every day. By this time, my mom, sisters and I were living in a smaller house on the farm, and we were just across the dirt road from the older farmhouse. One late spring day I was at home for the day and my grandparents were resting after lunch. I heard Grandaddy’s bird dog, Kate, barking excitedly just outside our kitchen window, so I went out to see what was up. She was barking at the water spigot near the window so I looked at the water bowl and saw that it was empty. (On the farm, every outside water spigot had a bowl underneath to hold water for the farm cats and dogs.) I reached towards the spigot to turn it on and she quickly grabbed my hand and pulled it away, something she had never, ever done before. Before I had time to get upset or angry with her, I saw why. A huge water moccasin was wrapped around the silver pipe attempting to get water from the slowly dripping spigot. We were in a drought, and water was not plentiful in the usual water holes around the farmland that year. Before I could get Grandaddy there to dispose of this snake, it crawled into the peanut field behind the house. Kate was the last of Grandaddy’s bird dogs (she was very frightened of gunshots and thunder), but she saved me from a nasty and potentially deadly snake bite! She may not have been good for quail hunting, but she soon became quite adept at finding venomous snakes near both houses and barked at them until someone came.

A few years before this incident, farmers began making huge rolls of hay from the residue of the peanut plants each fall. These would be rolled up into huge “bales” that were taller than me and about 4 feet wide. There were usually about 5-8 huge rolls in a row drying near the road across from the farmhouse, waiting to be loaded up. Grandaddy had one cow that decided she wanted to go on her own adventure and found a spot to get out along the fence line on the edge of the dirt road. After her first adventure found her right back in her pasture, she began to “invite friends” to join her. She slowly managed to get several other cows to escape with her, but they never went far, and usually wandered right up to the house. The fun part was getting them back to the barn area each time. On one such occasion, one of the younger Hereford bulls had joined her crew of escapees and he found those rolls of peanut hay. Since it was quite tasty, he was more than happy to remain there. Grandaddy and I got the others back in the fenced area fairly quickly, but this young bull was determined to keep eating that tasty new hay. Every time we “shooed” him towards the barn across that dirt road, he simply ran around the rolls of hay to the other side to eat. We finally decided to go from opposite sides walking towards each other with the young bull between us. So began another merry go round. Imagine my surprise (and the bull’s) when we both rounded the end of the rolls of hay and came face to face! I really don’t think he would have hurt me, but he was running quickly and I was not! To this day, I don’t know how we didn’t collide. But we both escaped harm, physically that is. My heart pounded hard for quite some time afterwards, and I didn’t offer to help get those cows back in the fence anytime soon. Instead I helped Grandaddy repair the loose fencing they were escaping through.

The last encounter I share today was not with an animal, but with that sinkhole.  And it was not my own near miss.  But in remembering it, I do look back at how very differently this story could have ended.  Once again, several cousins were visiting and we were on one of our wonderful adventures through the farm.  This adventure found us at the retention pond and sinkhole area.  After checking out some very old farm equipment we walked down the sloped area to the sinkhole. We were all looking down the narrow crevice and could see a small sandy area.  It looked nice and smooth and we noticed an opening in the highest area of the crevice.  The oldest cousin (who lived just down the road), looked carefully and said he felt it was a cave of some kind.  After some discussion, he decided he would go down and look.  He managed to slowly make his way down to the sandy area and just as he thought, there was a small cave-like opening with a small trickle of water running out.  As he was telling the rest of us (there were five of us, all girls) about the cave and water, he suddenly realized he was slowly sinking into the sand.  It really and truly was a “sinkhole” and it was full of quicksand!  

He first tried to pull himself up by grabbing low limbs and plants, but that was not successful. For some reason, none of us thought to run to the farm house and get help. Instead we made a human chain. The oldest among us found a good sized limb and held it within reach of the lone boy, who was in danger, while the rest of us girls made a human chain, each of us holding tight to the one in front of us. Despite our childhood resistance to run for help, the plan worked and we got him up the slope and back to safety. And although I can’t remember any of us verbally stating we wouldn’t tell the “grown ups” about this incident, none of us said a word. At least not for years and years. At one family reunion after the last of us “the little girls” had married, we shared a few of the mishaps and adventures with those “grown ups.”

How I wish my own children had been able to have a few fun adventures on that farm.  But times changed and the farm changed as well. For me, however, the memories are wonderful – if not a bit frightful at times.  I am so thankful that God was there protecting us while allowing us the opportunity to explore and enjoy his wonderful creations – even those slithering ones!  I often wonder what other “near misses” and “almost disasters” God has protected me from throughout my lifetime.  We never know about the accident we just avoided, the storm that didn’t destroy our home, or the danger that was just around the corner. We also don’t realize how many times our own prayers were prompted by God at just the right time to protect someone else.  Even when circumstances left me heartbroken for a time, the prayers of those who loved me lifted me up and pulled me through the hardships.  

May the LORD bless you and protect you. May the LORD smile on you and be gracious to you, May the LORD show you his favor and give you his peace.” Numbers 6: 24-26