By Ada Brownell
Two miles high—the nosebleed section of America—Leadville,
Colo.
When we moved there it was probably our 15th move. My husband was a telegrapher for the
Rio Grande Railroad and he kept getting "bumped.".
Our beautiful almost-new mobile home arrived in Leadville during
a snow storm. Even covered with mud, it was a wonderful sight. We’d been
“batching” in a railroad house in Malta, about 5 miles away, with no running
water and almost no furniture until we could hire the mover to bring the home to Leadville.
I enjoyed the Leadville church, started by a couple of young
girls in the Silver King era of the late 19th Century. So much wickedness
gripped the city in that era, the two young women reached out to children at
first, and then discovered they pioneered a church. That was decades before we
attended there.
One of the first things I noticed about the building were crutches on the wall.
“Why are those there?” I asked the pastor.
“Oh, that’s from the soldier boy who was healed and he
didn’t need them anymore.”
Leadville was only a few miles from Camp Hale, a large Army
post, which now is closed.
Our moves required me to leave my Sunday school in Thompson,
Utah, and at first I grieved for the children. The town, population 100, had
three bars and no church until the Lord moved on my heart and brought me
helper to start a Sunday school in the schoolhouse. That was left behind..
In a short time after we arrived in Leadville, I became the
high school class teacher. I’d been youth president in my home church a couple
of years before we moved away. I loved youth and devoted my energies into that high
school class with four or five students.
Because money was tight and I knew a little about writing
news, I went to work as a reporter for The
Leadville Herald-Democrat.
In only a little while, however, my husband’s job took him
to Texas Creek during the week. My mother-in- law lived with us, and she took
care of Carolyn who was age 3, and our oldest , Gary, who was in kindergarten.
I learned early God allows things in our lives that help us
grow emotionally and spiritually. The fan on our furnace kept quitting. My
husband showed me before he left how to take it out, get it running and then
screw everything back together. Sometimes I had to do it several times a day
and the only thing I couId do to keep the house warm was be patient.
Then in the middle of the night my mother in law used the
bathroom. I woke to a sucking sound. I’d
taken a bath before bed and forgot to turn the water back on to keep it from
freezing. The heat tape over our pipes was too short.
So I waited until my mother-in-law slept again. I didn’t
want asked every hour of the day if the water was running. I threw a fake fur
coat over my nightgown, stuck bare feet into boots, and picked up a fusee and matches. Snow was so deep I had to make a tunnel to
crawl under the mobile home.
I got my matches wet. I went in reverse, shoveling snow with my back side, gingerly climbed the steps, grabbed the knob and my bare hand stuck to the frost on it. My brother taught flesh sticks to cold metal, so I pulled on the door instead of trying to get my hand loose.
I got my matches wet. I went in reverse, shoveling snow with my back side, gingerly climbed the steps, grabbed the knob and my bare hand stuck to the frost on it. My brother taught flesh sticks to cold metal, so I pulled on the door instead of trying to get my hand loose.
My warm hand thawed the frost, but the door
didn’t move. Deep snow from the roof melted a little. Water ran down and
froze the door shut. I rang the doorbell over and over until my mother-in-law
came and pushed while I pulled.
Finally inside, I dressed in ski pants, sweaters,
gloves, heavy socks, boots and kept my matches dry when I tried the fusee
again. Soon the water ran freely inside and the pipes hadn’t broken. The next
day I was told it was 35 degrees below zero in the night.
I learned, Think
before you act.
I’m glad the Lord is patient, and even helps us when we’re stupid!
I’m glad the Lord is patient, and even helps us when we’re stupid!
On the mountain, we had other trying times. But there I
continued to write for Christian publications, and my experience at The Herald Democrat helped me launch a
career as a journalist. When we moved again,
The Pueblo Chieftain hired me.
The Holy Spirit guides and leads. I often didn’t have a clue
how today changes our future, but when I am yoked with Him, I have nothing to
fear.
©Ada Brownell 2014
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