As we should do. You give, God, and You take away. Most importantly, you never leave us. You will never leave Joseph or me. Or Fater. Just like you never left your humble servant, Job.
Then, Job found himself afflicted. Skin sores covered his body in such severe magnitude that Job began to wish he was never born.
Makes me feel ashamed for complaining about my back.
Then, Job’s wife suggested he give in and curse God because certainly, a loving Fater would never let such maladies occur to a faithful servant. This really made Rebekah think back to the story of Adam and Eve.
Never give up, never give up. Thank you, God, for a supportive family. She tried not to think about the burning in her arms, legs, back, and neck.
Then, Job’s friends came to try and make things better, and the whole lot of them wind up making Job even more depressed. Angrier and more hopeless. However, at Job’s darkest moment, God spoke to him. This not only lifted him up out of his suffering, but Job learned an important lesson. Not only for him but for me, too. The important lesson being that God allowed his beloved servant to be tempted because God trusted him.
Once he realized that, Job found himself to be blessed by God even more abundantly than he had been blessed before. Even his children sprang back to life.
Thunk.
Rebekah’s foot thunked against the bottom step of their porch. I have made it! Thank you, God. She sat down on the bottom step and checked her husband.
Blood eked from beneath Joseph’s makeshift bandage and his legs were still heavily injured. “My dear Joseph,” she said. “I did not think we would make it this far. Yet here we are, just you, me, and the bopplin, who is screaming in his crib. But do not worry. He is safe. We just want you to wake up. And I really want to figure out a way to get you up these stairs and into our home.”
Rebekah sat down on the top step. She placed her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands. “What I need is a litter. Or stretcher.”
She stood and surveyed the land, halfway hoping someone would appear to help her. However, there was nobody.
Slowly, she turned until she came back full circle. Then, there it was. The answer she needed, right there on her front porch the entire time. Her beloved screen door, hanging on by a tweaked piece of wood, otherwise hers for the taking.
“Looks like Joseph did not get you closed any more than I did before that storm hit,” she told the door. She hurried up the stairs and over to the door. With shaking arms, she yanked it free from the house. “And I am so grateful he did not.”
Rebekah propped the door against the steps. It was just long enough to overhang the top step while sitting on the ground. She sucked in a breath. If Joseph survives this, it is going to be a miracle.
She laid the door on the ground next to Joseph. “I am sorry, my lieb. But now I have to get you onto this door so I can get you inside and take care of you.”
Rebekah reached from over the door and grasped the end of the quilt. She pulled up on the end of the quilt and Joseph too, which was much harder than she anticipated. For every bit she pulled him up, she inched the door underneath him. It took much longer than she expected, but she finally got him halfway onto the door. Her back was soaked with sweat and the shrieking of her bopplin from the window was wearing on her nerves. “Oh, I fear the bopplin thinks I have forgotten him.” Rebekah wracked her brain for a song as she tried to get Joseph the rest of the way onto the door. The only song that came to mind was an Englischer song about a baby and a mockingbird that would not sing.
Rebekah could not remember where she picked up the song, but it was catchy, and it had stuck with her for quite some time.
“Hush little bopplin,” she began loudly. Her voice cracked, but she was sure nobody around her minded, “do not say a word. Mater is going to buy you a mockingbird.”
Dawson’s cries became less angry as she got Joseph situated on the door. Now just to tie him down, so he does not fall off when I pull him up the stairs. Rebekah untied her apron and continued her song to Dawson.
“If that mockingbird refuses to sing, Mater will buy you a diamond ring.” She slid the apron under Joseph’s arms, still bound by her button trick, and wrapped the strings behind the door before doubling them around to tie them in front. “If that diamond ring turns brass, Mater will buy you a…” Rebekah thought for a moment. “Looking glass!”
She hefted the door, which was substantially heavier than the quilt, and inched backward. Her muscles screamed, so she sang louder. “If that looking glass gets broken, Mater is going to buy you a…” Umph. “Billy goat.”
Up one step.
“If that Billy boat will not pull, Mater is going to buy you a cart and a bull.”
Up the second step.
By now, Joseph was partially standing up.
“If that cart and bull fall down, Dawson will still be the sweetest bopplin in the settlement.”
Up the third step. We have almost made it.
Dawson was finally quiet, so Rebekah paused for a quick, minuscule rest. Slowly, Joseph began to slide down on his door board.
Oh no, my apron will not hold him!
Rebekah let the top of the door fall to waist level. Her arm muscles screamed for mercy. “I have to get you up these stairs, and I am going to have to do it fast.” She yanked as hard as she possibly could as she stepped backward through their open front door. The bottom of the door stretcher cleared the three steps with a thud.
Thank you, God.
Her muscles throbbed, but she could not sit him down yet. Glass shards glittered across the floor, and the living room couch, where she had nursed the bopplin only hours before, was covered with sparkling splinters of glass. “Oh Joseph, I am at a loss. What do I do now?”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she sniffled. “If I put you down, I fear I may never get you up again.”
Her legs began to shake, and she squeezed shut her eyes to keep the tears of defeat from spilling out in victory.
“My, my! You obviously need a hand, young lady,” a familiar voice said.
She opened her eyes and dared a peek at the door. “Fogarty! What an answered prayer.”
Thomas peeked out from behind him as the older man dashed to relieve Rebekah of her screen door litter. “I brought him as fast as I could,” Thomas whispered, “once he finished putting the leeches on Pa.” He shivered with disgust.
“Good job, little brudder. I did not know what I was going to do.”
“Where would you like him?” Fogarty asked.
Rebekah crumpled to the floor. “I…I…glass is on the living room couch, so we cannot use that.” She closed her eyes again, but this time out of pure exhaustion. “Upstairs? In our bed?”
Fogarty had her sick husband untied and upstairs before she could make her eyes properly focus.
“His leg,” she called weakly. “Both of them. Thomas…”
Something patted her hand. “Do not worry Sissy. I will tell him.”
She tried to answer, to tell them she was right behind them, but the truth of the matter was, getting Joseph into the house had exhausted her in a way she had never been exhausted before. I will close my eyes for just a moment, then I will be there.
The words swirled in her mind, but try as they might, could not find their way past her lips.
Chapter Seven
When Rebekah woke up, her eyelids may well have been made of stone. The sun had long set, and someone had helped her into a dining room chair. She vaguely remembered it but thought it had been a dream. In her dream, Fogarty, Thomas, and strangely Dawson, had helped her to a horse trough. After a few moments of standing before it, someone had dunked her head in, but she did not care. She kept it there. Dreams are funny like that.
Apparently, life had imitated her dream state. She had laid her head on the table and a puddle of drool marked where she’d slept.
Her heart began to thunder as she roused herself awake.
