“Twice while we were in Canada, forest fires menaced our lives and home. I shall relate one of these conditions. Mother, Olive, Otho, and the younger children were the only ones home. The fire came sweeping across the west quarter-section. Mother and the children tried to backfire against it using wet gunny sacks to keep their counteracting blaze under control. The season was autumn when the fire was great, and fierce, and hot. The smoke was intense and suffocating as the flames neared the creek. The faces of our loved ones were blistered as before a burning sun. Their lashes and hair were scorched. Our home and outbuildings were within a few feet of the creek. They tried vainly to keep the flames from crossing the creek. Grass and leaves at the distance of several yards will ignite under such intense heat. Then the fire crossed the creek.
Otho had been sent to Bodaly’s for help. His smoke seared lungs were in no condition for the ordeal of his running. He reached the neighbors, mumbled something about a fire and collapsed. Mr. Bodaly saw that Otho’s hair, brows, and lashes were burned. He guessed the rest. Loading Otho on the hayrack, he hurried with all possible speed to our home.
In the meantime, Mother fell to the ground exhausted as she cried, “Oh! God, in the name of Jesus Christ spare my children and home. The children collapsed too, with their faces flat on the ground for breath.
Instantly, a strong wind came from the North sending the flames back over the ground already covered, where the fire roared and raged like a caged beast until it had spent itself.
For some time, Mother and the children lay on their faces, sobbing out their thanksgiving and enjoying the fresh, smoke-free air.
Mr. Bodaly arrived and helped them into the house one at a time. He believed their story in the face of many strong evidences and went home to ponder.
Another time, when Mother, Rulon, two or three of the other children and I were returning home from Sahlstrum’s farm in the white-top buggy, a severe wind and rain storm suddenly descended upon us. The forest surrounding us was dense and tall. Many dead trees fell with a crash or heavy thud. As we proceeded, Mother led us in prayer. Then she told us that she had the faith that we’d get home safely. We were of the same mind. We frequently saw a huge tree crash just a little way before or behind us. We had to drive out around some fallen trees, lift the buggy, front wheels first, then the rear wheels, over dead trees. Using an axe, we moved some smaller ones away. The buggy, horses, and ourselves all returned unscathed. It is remarkable how one can feel faith as an enveloping power in time of great danger. We didn’t fail to give the Lord the praise. In fact, when we reached the cleared and open road, we sang and praised God as we drove along on that unfrequented road all the rest of the way home. Sometimes the heart is too full for silence.”
Voices Of Women, Rhea Kunz, pgs. 436-437
This post is part of a series of posts on Women in the Priesthood.
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