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I pulled the throttles back to seventeen inches of manifold
pressure. The sound of the constant speed props turned from
a powerful drone to a whisper.
"All
right ladies, pipe down, I've got to talk to flight center
and find out what's up with this weather."
The
six choir girls I was flying to a revival went to a low
chortle, they, knowing I meant business when it came to
their safety as well as mine. Viewing a large solid arc of
black and greenish clouds sweeping west and to the rear
encircling us to the front and to the east I knew I
didn't want to chance trying to get under it. Greenish
clouds mean hail and tornadoes. The Iowa corn and soybean
fields stretched out in all directions as I called center.
"Flight center,Triple Two Niner Sierra, 120 DME off your 240
degree radial requesting weather info on to Twin Cities." I
called.
"2229 Sierra, get on the ground or try to 180 and go south
to safety. Terrible weather is forcast for the next twenty
four hours." They replied.
"Flight center, roger, we're looking for a strip to set her
down." I shot back at them.
The
girls were in muffled prayer as their eyes peered out into
the darkening sky ahead.
"OK
ladies, we're going down and read water tower names while
looking for an airport, long strip of smooth road or a field
to set it down in for the night."
All
of a sudden the plane filled with a harmonizing, "Hold My
Hand Precious Lord" as we descended. There was the name,
'Dallas Center' on the water tower but, no place to land. We
continued on and saw a nice stretch of road five or so miles
out of town with a large covered hay storage shed on the
edge of the road. Looking at the direction the corn tops
were blowing I turned into the
wind
and dropped the landing gear. A perfect landing and a start
up chorus of 'What A Friend We Have In Jesus". I had to
chuckle, but those girls were serious.
We
taxied under the shed, got out and found rope to secure the
plane in case of violent winds. The corn must have been
eight feet high so we were pretty well protected.
I
told the girls we would just have to live on our water and
whatever they had left in their travel picnic basket until
the weather broke or we could get to town. They settled
down on a pile of corn husks and were visiting when a farmer
came down the road pulling into the cover of the shed. He
got out and I volunteered who we were and what our problem
was, telling him I didn't have much money on me and credit
cards were out of the question out there in corn country.
I
finally told him if he would take us to a larger town I
would see that he was paid for his trouble. The girls
started harmonizing 'Jesus Hold My Hand' and they were
really good at it too. I could see the old farmer's eyes
start to get a little damp when he said, "Well, there's
just
my wife and I and we have this big old farmhouse just down
the road. We can make a few pallets and I'm sure we can put
y'all up 'till this weather blows over."
The
girls finished and I told them about his offer. They were
elated that they weren't going to have spend the night under
that shed in bad weather and told him they would gladly pay
for their stay with their singing if he'd like and started a
song, "We'll Sing In The Sunshine, We'll Sing In The Rain",
a happy tune that made the old farmer smile.
He
loaded us up in his truck and took us to his home. Telling
his wife what was up, she smiled and fixed lunch. I mean
ham, deviled eggs, home made bread and fresh garden
vegetables. After lunch the girls jumped up, as they were
used to doing all the chores at the home, and promptly did
the dishes, cleaning and impressing the farmer's wife.
We
sat around talking and listening to the girls quietly
practice. I noticed the farmer and his wife were intently
listening and holding hands. They then said they'd like to
invite some couples over for supper and have them listen to
the girls too.
They
all squealed they'd love to "sing for their supper" to an
audience since they were missing the revival. The farmer got
on the phone, his wife went to the garden
with
the girls, gathering all kinds of wonderful things. That
evening three other farm couples came, sitting around
listening to the songs. How those girls could harmonize,
like professionals.
We
had a nice supper with the girls cleaning up afterwards then
they really got into the songs.
Standing in front of the fireplace with the four couples and
myself spaced around on the couches they started their show
with happy hymns and invocationals. I
noticed that it wasn't very long and all the couples were
holding hands, from time to time squeezing each others as
the songs flowed.
For
an hour or so they sang then finalized with 'The Old Rugged
Cross'. There was not a dry eye among them or a dry hanky in
their hands. The old farmer got up and told me none of them
had been to church in several years but, they were going to
start going again the coming Sunday because they were so
inspired by our visit.
Lifting off the country road the next day with full tummys
heading home we all felt great. Though we didn't make our
destination I feel God sent us on a special
mission that stormy day and we came through for Him.
Mark
Crider
Existential philosopher,
raconteur, and dean of dirty words.
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Blessings to you. Have a great week ahead.
Bob Johnston
Minneapolis
Starfish @ Ripplemaker.com
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