My parents rented a mobile home in the countryside of western Wisconsin when I was four years old, in the early 50’s. It was quite a distance from any other family dwelling. Dad worked hard for the welfare of his family as most dads do. Mom stayed home, raised a garden, and my brother and me. During this time, most women did not drive and very few families had two cars. Mom didn’t drive and there wasn’t a second car.

Mom was very good at raising tomatoes, which we loved to eat. I’m not sure if she grew these tomatoes or if they were given to us, but we were canning them for the coming winter. Mother worked hard to put the tomatoes into jars.

It was getting dark and I wanted to help. There was a stack of tomato jars near the light switch. To me they looked like steps, so I stepped up on them to turn on the light. The jars broke! When I fell, I received a very large gash on my left leg, which bled profusely. Mom reached for dishtowels and tried to stop the bleeding, it didn’t work. As she worked, she prayed for help. I suppose it was one of those prayers my children would call a “flare prayer” as she worked to stop the bleeding. As soon as she was finished, a lady knocked on our door. When Mom called for her to come in, she said; “Can I help?” She took us to the doctor’s office where I received over 40 stitches in my leg. This unknown lady did the Lord’s bidding and saved my life by answering mom’s prayer. I have a scar to this day and remember the Lord’s blessings every time I look at it.