Wednesday night, just a minute before midnight, I received what I consider to be the most tragic news, personal news, that is, that I have ever been given: one of my dearest friends, Malinda Tucker, had passed away shortly after giving birth to a healthy baby boy. She was only 34 years old.
A couple of hours earlier that evening, my sister Lura Kay had called to tell me that Malinda was not doing well at all, and they had run out of blood at the David City Hospital. They had given her all they had--twelve units. The doctor had called a doctor from York to come assist him in emergency surgery. He was immediately on his way, bringing more blood with him, but it was shortly thereafter that Malinda’s heart stopped.
Although they were able to get it started again, it had been stopped for twenty minutes, and the doctor did not hold out much hope that she would be okay.
The LifeFlight was called, and she was taken to St. Elizabeth’s Hospital in Lincoln.
Earlier that afternoon, before the baby was born, for just a little while everything had seemed to be fine. She said she was hungry, and then told her husband Tim she felt dizzy--and then she passed out. She never regained consciousness.
The baby weighs over eight pounds and was named Daniel John. He is Tim and Malinda’s eighth child, and is a beautiful baby, as were all their children. The oldest, Jeremy, is fourteen, and works with Teddy.
Perhaps you remember when their sixth child, Melody Joy, was born? She only weighed two pounds and two ounces, and it was feared that she had suffered brain damage when she was only a couple of days old. But by the time she was just past a year, she tested at a two-year-old’s level, both physically and mentally. The doctors were all amazed.
It was just a couple of weeks ago or so that Lydia’s teacher, Helen, took her class to Tim (her son) and Malinda’s little farm to see the old apple press. Tim keeps bees; you’ll recall I couldn’t think of that word, ‘keep’?
Tim is a nephew of my sister’s. Malinda’s parents both spent part of their teenage years in my parents’ home; her father was the son of Argentinean missionaries whom we supported, and my parents were his and his sister’s legal guardians for several years. Tim, Malinda, and their families have all been the most wonderful friends anyone could ever ask for.
Malinda was bright and beautiful and intelligent, and I don’t know of anything she couldn’t do, and do extremely well. She played the viola and the piano, she sang, and she was a skillful seamstress. She had finished her girls’ Christmas dresses, and had put many hours of work into lovely ribbon embroidery all around the necklines. Their families’ and friends’ Christmas presents are already wrapped, and Hannah saw a box in a corner of their house with childlike print on the side saying, “ORTAMINTS”. Malinda had everything nearly ready for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
We all feel as though we have been kicked in the stomach, and we wake up feeling as though we have just had a dreadful nightmare, and then we realize: it’s no nightmare. It’s real.
Nevertheless, through our tears, we know these truths: “My times are in Thy hand,” Psalms 31:15; and “But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep (those who have died), that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words.” (I Thessalonians 4:13-18)
It’s a wonderful promise, isn’t it? I believe it with all my heart. We don’t know why things happen as they do; we often cannot see God’s plan. But someday we’ll understand it all. “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” (I Corinthians 13:12-13)
One thing we do know: having friends and loved ones in heaven makes us long for that wonderful place all the more.
There was no school Thursday. Tom and Dwight, Tim's brothers, for whom Teddy works, told Teddy that their mother, Helen, will quit teaching to help take care of Tim and Malinda’s children. We learned later that Regina, daughter of Larry’s cousin Karen and her husband Jerry, plans to take the class.
We feel so sorry for the doctor; he was quite shaken up. It is an awful responsibility, to be a doctor, isn’t it?
The baby was brought home from the hospital Thursday morning; he is doing fine. When Tim went to get the baby, he talked to the doctor. The man was blaming himself, just as we’d known he would be, saying that if he had only done this or that or another thing, Malinda would still be alive. Poor man. Poor Tim. Poor dear little children, poor parents...poor all of us who loved her so very, very much. Malinda was so sweet, so beautiful, so intelligent, so talented...a wonderful, lovely person, through and through.
The doctor said that never before in his entire career had he ever lost a mother. The nurses told Tim that the doctor didn’t sleep the entire night, after Malinda died. When Tim arrived to get little baby Daniel John, his other seven children were with him. All the nurses, upon seeing those beautiful little ones, were in tears.
This tragedy seems all the more heart-rending to us, because Tuesday, the day before Malinda died, we had attended the funeral of Gay H., a lady who used to be my Sunday School teacher. She had not been well for several years, and had had numerous strokes. She was 71 years old.
I will never forget the wonderful times I had when Gay took me, along with several other girls, to her sister June’s (one of our school teachers) cabin along the Platte, where we stayed the night. She played the old Victrola for us, and made us all laugh by singing along with it as it wound down, slower, slower, slower... I loved our long wading excursions in the river, where she would point out the footprints of deer, coyote, and even a possible bobcat. She had a knack of making things lively and interesting, and I looked forward to our jaunts and outings, and sorely regretted it when I got too old to go.
I remember the cozy enjoyment of sitting around a crackling fire eating roasted marshmallows and drinking from old metal cups filled with cold, cold water drawn from the well, while Gay told us Bible stories and stories about her family and our church from years past.
Later, she was our children’s Sunday School teacher, and they loved her just as I had when she was mine. Keith and Hannah still have little planters Gay once brought them--a furry dog for Keith and a funny little pink pig for Hannah--with a small plant from her garden planted in each. They faithfully cared for those plants for years.
Gay and her husband Bernie worked for several years at the lunch counter at a pharmacy uptown. We were often the recipients of all sorts of scrumptious, leftover soups from the lunch counter. We appreciated it more than Gay could have guessed.
Something we especially valued were the many lovely bouquets Gay brought to the church. We looked forward to seeing what beautiful flowers would show up at the altar each Sunday. What a lot of work she must have put into it--first in the growing and gardening of all those flowers, and next in arranging them with such care and skill.
Well, now I have told you all the bad things that have befallen us in the space of only one week; now I shall attempt a bit of family events and happenings.
Last Monday, I finished typing my letter very late (or early in the morning, depending on your point of view) and then suddenly I remembered: I needed to make sandwiches and frost some cakes for the reception after Gay’s funeral Tuesday. Further, there was a gigantic stack of videos I needed to return to the library, or I’d get charged a dollar for each. Aarrgghh. I finally finished everything at 4:30 a.m.
This week has been spent in washing clothes, sewing clothes, and framing pictures that I plan to give for Christmas. Lydia’s dress is about half done, and is looking very pretty.
One afternoon, Victoria was eating a peanut butter and honey sandwich.
“Hey!” she suddenly exclaimed to the honey bear that sat directly in front of her saucer, “You quit eating my sandwich! How dare you.” A few minutes later, after squirting a bit more honey on her bread, and then trying in vain to close the lid, she reproached the hapless thing, “You stubborn thing you! You get your lid closed.”
Caleb rushed out of the kitchen, all consumed with giggles, and trying hard not to laugh in his little sister’s face.
Keith and Esther came visiting Wednesday night, bringing literature about the vitamin supplement drinks they are hoping to sell. I cannot afford it, but I think it would be good for a person. Ah, well; I’ll just keep eating broccoli and blueberries, parsnips and papaws. That ought to do the trick.
While they were here, the phone rang, and that was when we heard the news about Malinda that would ultimately prove to be the saddest news I have ever been told. The first phone call only told us that Malinda was 'very bad', and could we please pray. We would learn an hour or so later that she had died.
One afternoon, Jamie, a little cousin who lives down the block, and Victoria were playing on their scooters outside. Jamie had a dreadful crash. I rushed to see if she was okay while Lydia dashed off to get the triple antibiotic and the Band-Aids.
She was okay. I knelt down and put some medicine on the scrapes, and then, since it wasn’t bleeding much, I started to get up--and Jamie quickly said, “Oh, I think I need some Band-Aids, too.”
So on went the Band-Aids. She’s the cutest little thing.
For supper Thursday night, I fixed Bear Creek Chili, a dry mix in a bag. I warn you, if you do not wish your family to look like fire-breathing dragons sitting around your table, do not feed them Bear Creek Chili. Or if you do, prepare to open a fire hydrant for them afterwards. That’s hot stuff, let me tell you.
I put another third part water in it, and it was still hot. I made sure everyone had some bread and some fruit, and let them go without finishing their soup.
Have I told you that Teddy is now driving his new pickup? It’s really pretty, such a bright blue, almost my favorite color. He still needs to put the rear bumper on it, and then it will be nearly all done. He’s pleased he got it done so quickly; Tom and Dwight helped him.
There was no school Friday. Joseph, who’s been feeling better, decided to take his car for a spin, just to see if it still percolated after such a lengthy hiatus, don’t you know. He went off to the south, across the Loup River and down a country road, on a junket just to see what kind of wildlife he could spot, don’t you know.
And that’s when the oil plug fell out and he lost all his transmission oil.
Joseph had to walk home.
Now, if he had’ve come back via the country roads he’d driven out on, he would have had perhaps a twenty-mile trek. But he wasn’t too far from the Loup River trestle, which isn’t far from our house, as the crow flies. So he headed off cross-country, straight across the Loup River.
And that’s when he learnt that 71° in November is not the same as 71º in July.
The difference, you see, is in the temperature of land and sea.
Yes, the sea was cold. The Loup, that is. He jogged the rest of the way home at a brisk trot, and wasted no time in discarding of his wet, sandy jeans and donning some fresh ones. He put on a sweatshirt, grabbed the Suburban keys, and went off to get a new plug and seven quarts of transmission oil.
Back to his car, then, where he discovered he had the wrong plug.
It took two or three stabs at it before he finally settled on a universal plug that he thought would work. He screwed it in tight, poured in the oil, started his car, and drove it a little way down the road to see if it was working okay. But in mere seconds, it wouldn’t go--because something had sheered off the top of the plug, it had come loose, and all the oil had drained out again.
He came back home, all in a dither because he’d used his last shekel, and didn’t know what to do. I handed over a few shekels, and he went to see if he couldn’t do it up right this time.
After he’d been gone too long to suit me, I called Teddy. I told him the story, gave him what I thought were perfectly good directions on how to get to the scene of the exigency, and told him I was worried.
Teddy, being Teddy, was immediately more worried than I had been. “I have to finish putting oil in my pickup, and then I’ll go help him,” he said, all in a rush. “It’ll only be ten minutes.”
Oh, no, I thought, And whom will I ask to rescue Teddy, when he oils the same country road?
Joseph came home before Teddy found him; Teddy had gone to the wrong side of the trestle. Dorcas then took Joseph back to get his car, and, fortunately, by the time they came home again, Teddy had arrived, Josephless, all in a stew about where his brother had gotten himself to.
So everyone was home safe and sound, and I could go about the business of Playing House again. Whew.
For supper, I fed everyone leftovers from the previous night’s Bear Creek Chili. I poured in another quart of water, then thickened it with mashed potato flakes and added a pound of butter. I would have used milk instead of water, but Joseph, when I’d sent him to the store earlier, had forgotten to get some, in spite of the fact that it was the first item on the list.
He forgot the clothes detergent and the liquid Downy, too. And the toothpaste and the face cream. But then, no self-respecting boy of the age of sixteen would be caught dead buying a jar of face cream that says on the side in distinct lettering, “Wrinkle Eraser”, now would he?
Uh, did I recently write something about Joseph being one of the best to send to the store for things, on account of the fact that he does such a bang-up job of getting all the things I’ve asked him to get?
I lied.
The soup was still plenty spicy, but pretty good. About the time I took the first bite, it occurred it me that it would have been lots better with hamburger added to it, but it was too late for that, since all the hamburger is frozen. Victoria polished off her entire bowl in nothing flat, proclaiming it to be “really, really and extra good”.
Bobby, Hannah, and Aaron came to visit Friday night; they’d just come from Tim’s house. Tim told them that the night Malinda died, his mother Helen had of course told the children right away.
During the night, while waiting for Tim to come home, Joanna, at thirteen the oldest daughter, said, crying, “I don’t know how to cook very well.”
She is a dear, sweet girl, a very good friend of Hester’s. Joanna finally fell asleep at 2:30 a.m. Tim came home about 3:30, and they soon went to bed. At 5:00 a.m., Joanna and Dorothy, having heard that a friend was going to take care of the new baby, and mistakenly thinking it was to be full-time, came into Tim’s room crying, begging him to please not give the baby away; they could care for him themselves quite fine. Dear, precious little girls; I weep over it, just writing about it.
Larry came home earlier than usual Saturday, so he mowed the lawn. That is, he mowed up the leaves. Our neighbor lady, who keeps her yard impeccably spic-and-span, should be pleased, as our leaves often blow into her yard. When he finished, we went for a ride. There was not much time to take pictures, as it was quickly getting dark, but I did get some beautiful sunset pictures in shades of fuchsia, lavender, and purple behind the stark, leafless trees. We saw a few flocks of ducks rising from the river, and a huge flock of songbirds wheeling through the twilight, ascending into the darkening sky. Did you know that songbirds migrate at night?
Caleb read a sign on a gate at the end of a two-rut lane we’d bumped along down to the Loup River: “No Trespassing.”
“No Truck Passing,” repeated Victoria--that is, she thought she was repeating her brother, “And I know why, too!” She nodded vigorously. “It’s because this street’s way too narrow, that’s why!” She peered out the window at the prairie grasses washing against the running boards. “No Truck Passing,” she reiterated, “because there’s just not room enough!”
On our way home, we stopped at Wal-Mart to drop off my film, and I got more 11x14 frames for some of my favorite pictures that I have been having enlarged. I have a dozen in frames now; I will use them for Christmas gifts. If people won’t buy my pictures, I’ll give them away! Ha, so there!
Once again, we had leftover Bear Creek Chili. Mind you, it wasn’t as if we’d had leftovers three days in a row, because no one ate enough that first day to amount to a hill of beans.
Chili beans.
This time I added two and a half pounds of hamburger to the mix. It was the best ever. But I will not buy it again. My very own chili concoction is much better. At least, it usually is; trouble is, I don’t use a recipe, and I’ve never written down what I put in it, and I can never seem to remember, so I never make it the same way twice.
I was trying to remember the name of the graham cracker crumbs I like. “It’s ‘‘something’ Maid’,” I said.
“Rubber?” asked Joseph, just as Larry said, “Minute?”
Fine bunch of Helpful Hatties. It’s Honey. Honey Maid.
After supper, I read to the children the story of the Israelite spies going into Canaanland from Kadesh-Barnea. Only Caleb and Joshua brought back a good report. Not a soul is recorded as having tasted that wonderful cluster of grapes they brought back, so large two men had to carry it suspended on a branch between them. The other men told alarming tales of the giants in the land, and when Caleb and Joshua protested that with God on their side they would have no trouble conquering the land, the people wanted to stone them. God punished the people for their unbelief by causing them to wander in the wilderness forty more years, until all the older generation had died.
Then, while Larry cut Teddy’s hair, I curled Hester, Lydia, and Victoria’s hair.
Today Robert preached a very good and fitting sermon from the first chapter of Job. The songs we sang were touching and of much comfort. How do people stand such tragedies, I wonder, if they don’t have the consolation of God’s Word, and the dear old songs godly men have written? I still cannot get it through my head that Malinda is gone.
I am typing this letter--editing it, really--from my mother’s house. I stayed with her tonight during church. She just finished a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and soon will be getting ready for bed.
Tomorrow is the funeral, and I must fix sandwiches and cake tonight when I get home.
Please pray for our many bereaved friends, won’t you?
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