Free A View from the Buggy by Jerry S. Eicher Page A

across the sky.
    Was this real or a coincidence? I wondered. I had prayed a desperate prayer, but I hadn’t expected an answer.
    I must make sure, I told myself. Slowly I lifted my face, and whispered the same prayer, “If there is a God that loves me, show me!”
    The second meteorite seemed to take the words right out of my mouth.
    I wondered in amazement. Did God really love me? My heart pounded against my ribs, but I had to know. I prayed again, and there was a third meteorite. This time the meteorite exploded in the midst of the twinkling stars, forever impressing in my heart the love of God.
    I believed that night, and the road back wasn’t easy. But God helped me.
    So that was the background of my prayer the night of the calf ’s birth. And now, at peace, I entered the barn to finish my chores and join my family for supper.
    Yes, I mused, God does truly bless those who believe on Him, and He gives them a peace that surpasses understanding.

The Beginning of My Journey
    Miriam Schwartz
    He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters (Psalm 23:2).
    I GROANED WEAKLY , FLOPPING ON OUR HOMEMADE LOUNGE . “M OM , I don’t feel well!”
    So began 2005 and my journey toward a serious illness. We came from the Amish church in Berne, Indiana, whose Ordnung forbade such things as stuffed couches and recliners. So my resting place that day was our lounge—as we called it. It was really a foldout English bed with a headboard. We folded it up and made a homemade cushion for it, and that was our lounge.
    We lived one day at a time, committing each day to God, not knowing what He had in store for us in the months ahead. But we trusted Him.
    I was nine years old that year, and still in school. We thought my getting sick on the first of March must be due to one of those unwelcome flu bugs going around. But it was not so.
    While I lay on the lounge my thoughts started running. I’m not sick , I told myself. I feel perfectly okay. So why am I lying here? I should get up and join my family who are having a lively time at the supper table. But, oh…I feel so weak!
    I realized how weak I actually was while trying to get up. So I flopped back down and softly cried myself to sleep. Upon my awakening, Mom offered me a sandwich, but thinking about food made me want to throw up. But both of my parents told me I had to eat a little something to keep my strength up. Gagging, I got two bites of my usually favorite sandwich (peanut butter and strawberry jam) down my throat before giving up.
    From then on, every day I got worse and eventually Mom began to get alarmed. “What do you suppose is wrong with her?” she asked Dad one evening.
    â€œOh, it’s probably just the flu that’s going around,” Dad answered casually.
    I awoke the next morning to a supposed fresh start. I felt quite a bit better and crept downstairs to find everyone except little Melvin Jr. ready to eat breakfast. Slipping in beside my younger sister on the bench, I asked my parents why they hadn’t woken me.
    No one said anything, so I asked, “May I go to school today?”
    â€œMiriam,” Dad said sadly, “you don’t look well enough to go.”
    How heartbreaking! And on my way downstairs I had been rejoicing that I felt well enough for school. I had already missed the whole week. What I didn’t realize until I heard Dad and Mom talking about me later in the day was that my skin appeared shrunken on my face and I had a bluish tint.
    By forenoon, Mom asked me if I’d be able to walk the half mile down the road to Grandpa Wengerd’s place. They were Mom’s parents, and she needed to give Grandma her bath. Grandma had been an invalid for six years from several stokes that had paralyzed her left side. She also had diabetes and couldn’t take care of herself, and was thus dependent on her husband and children.
    I agreed, since Grandma was very