Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: FINISHED (04/09/20)
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TITLE: Candlelight Vigil | Previous Challenge Entry
By Marilyn Borga
04/15/20 -
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“Her heart continues to wane, Seth. I’m sorry that nothing more can be done.”
The sun was fading as he took his leave. I struck a match and lit the candle on the bedside table. The sweet scent of beeswax wafted through the room as the flame caught hold, bringing comfort to me, and I hoped to my mama, Miranda Hall, beloved by me and my family. Truth be told, Mama had a place in the hearts of ‘most every citizen around Bearcreek.
Back in 1840, Mama and Daddy passed through town in their Conestoga wagon with plans to homestead further west. When Mama’s baby came along too early to survive, they backtracked so as to bury him in the church graveyard. Mama didn’t have the heart to continue on after that. They settled down for the winter and by springtime, they’d decided to buy some land just outside of town. Once Mama realized she was expecting again, she peppered the old midwife with questions about birthing. By the time I arrived, she was already assisting the woman with some of our neighbors’ deliveries.
After having me, Mama was unable to conceive again, but that didn’t deter her from wanting to help other women bring their children into the world. She had a gift, and when the old midwife retired, Mama was asked to take over her territory.
We raised sheep back then and Mama often helped Daddy when the ewes had hard birthings. She didn’t care if the babe was a human or a lamb; she loved them all. Mama loved life.
I could picture her, working by the fire on winter evenings, shelling beans or spinning wool. Whenever Daddy discovered a bee tree to rob, she’d make candles, dipping the wicks over and over in the melted wax while Daddy read to us from the Bible. Sometimes our peace would be shattered by the clatter of racing hooves and a panicked voice calling for help. Mama would grab her black leather birthing bag, Daddy would hitch up our horse, and off she’d go into the night.
Through her decades of service, there were hundreds of families beholden to my mama for her care during their time of need. She continued on even after Daddy passed; her failing health finally forced her to slow down. But she was there, assisting the doctor, at the birth of her own great-grandson. That had been a proud and joyful day for our family.
Bittersweet memories flooded my mind. I studied her face now, peaceful in the dim light. The doctor had left some laudanum for her pain, and I whispered a prayer of gratitude that she hadn’t needed it. In these hours when her life was fading, I struggled between my selfish desire to keep her close and her desire to clasp the hand of her Savior and be free of her infirmities. I rested my head on the table and prayed for God’s will.
The scent of beeswax awakened me as the flame sizzled and the light smothered into a puddle on the candlestick--- or perhaps it was the rattling sigh as Mama took her final breath. My vigil was ended. My mother’s earthly life, like the candle, had extinguished; her time here was finished. The finality of it slashed like a knife deep inside me.
I stumbled to the window. Dawn was breaking. On the horizon, golden peach and rose tones splashed through the deep indigo sky, filling the darkness with glorious light. In the growing brightness, my hope swelled. I could trust the promise. Mama’s journey here was over, her worn-out tent discarded; her soul had been birthed in eternity.
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For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39 (NKJV)
And this is the promise that He has promised us---eternal life. 1 John 2:25 (NKJV)
Precious in the sight of the LORD
Is the death of His saints. Psalm 116:15 (NKJV)
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Fiction inspired by the life of Mariah Mendenhall, a midwife who assisted at the births of more than nine hundred babies in rural Jay County, Indiana between 1840 and 1900.
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