The Big Woods

Liz slid out the back door and down the porch steps. She slipped the tight black pumps off of her aching feet and wiggled her toes in the cool red dirt of the driveway. She’d been working in that hot kitchen for hours and needed a breath of fresh air. Throwing the dishtowel over her shoulder, Liz couldn’t help but notice the soft white glow of the moon blanketing the fields and casting long shadows across the meadow. It was a beautiful night.

Since James Fred was born she’d had very little time to herself. Silently, she thanked the Lord that he was finally sleeping through the night. It had been six years since Jerry was a baby and she felt so much older this time. Why, most of her classmates had teenagers by now and here she was nursing a babe. But what a beautiful baby he was and how faithful God had been to give her two precious boys. She stared into the open sky full of twinkling stars and thought about her sweet Patricia Jane.

Shouting in the distance shook her from her thoughts. The voices grew louder as they got closer. “Fire! Fire in the big woods!” Liz hurried along the rocky drive toward the front of the house.

Wyatt leapt from the porch, nearly knocking her off her feet. “Get in the house, Liz” he threw over his shoulder in a scolding tone.

A flash of anger momentarily replaced her panic. She hated when he spoke to her like a child but she obeyed and moved quickly to the front door. Jerry was waiting--his blue eyes wide with fear. Liz drew him close. She heard the engine of the tractor rumbling and then watched as Wyatt drove down the drive and along the dirt road.

“Be careful, Wyatt,” she called out as he rounded the bend in the road. He waved his hat in the air and then disappeared out of sight. She tightened her arms around little Jerry’s shoulders and stared helplessly at the growing glow of the burning pines.

Hours passed and the fire continued to burn closer and closer. Liz knew that if the men could not stop the flames they, and most of their neighbors, would lose their home. She stroked the hair of her oldest. He was finally sleeping, his head gently pressed in her lap. What a brave young man he was. If anything happened to Wyatt, she knew that Jerry would valiantly step into the role as head of their home. A dull ache formed in her chest and she forced the lump back from her throat. Lord, I pray he’ll never have to fill those shoes. Please protect our men. As fatigue began to settle in her back and shoulders she refused to let her eyes close in sleep. Instead, she hummed softly to herself until the wee hours of morning.

“There’s an all seeing eye watching you, watching you. Every step that you take…” her voice trailed off as she saw a lone figure walking toward them. She squinted through dry, tired eyes. Jerry awoke at her movement and he too set his focus on the approaching man. “Mama” he said, “it’s…”

“Wyatt!” Liz ran to meet him and threw her arms around his neck. His skin and hair were gray with ash but he was home. All night the men dug trenches and back burned the heavy brush to head off the flames and at last the fire was out. Through the heart of community, the love of neighbors, and the grace of God, every home was spared. As they made their way into the house Liz was overcome with relief and soon after, exhaustion. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. But the stubborn sun insisted on rising and James Fred let out a hungry cry.

She groaned at the stiffness in her body and knew that come nightfall she would be ready to collapse into bed –-her soft bed still made from the day before, in her cozy bedroom, in her still standing home. Thankfulness alone would get her through this day.

Amie Sexton
Copyright 2002