* * * * *
"It's so good to be home again." Hanna exclaimed as she added more wood to the stove to prepare breakfast. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Christopher."
"I am. I have not had a spell in quite awhile. I'm glad your parents made it back safe and sound. It was nice being there for that time but I did get home sick."
"It's funny how you long for a place that you've only lived in for a couple of weeks." Hanna added.
Chris threw her a gentle smile. "It's because this is our home." He pushed his chair back and made his way over to his wife, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm really sorry for my behavior after the fire. I didn't mean to direct my frustrations out toward you." He said looking into her eyes, then out the window to the pile of ash, back into her eyes.
"Oh, I know that. I accept your apology and forgive you. I was just concerned about you, that's all. Not only for your health but for your emotions as well."
"I understand that." he said returning to his chair. "I've always been that way, I get into a rut and can't seem to climb out of it for a long time. The pastor said that maybe God was trying to get my attention but now I can't figure out why He'd have to go to such extremes to do so."
"He works in mysterious ways." Hanna replied, not turning away from the stove as she stirred the pot of oatmeal.
Chris reached his arms up in the air and let out a loud groan, stretching his arms, shoulders and back. "I have a lot of catching up to do. I've lost two weeks worth of work on our fields."
"Not before you have breakfast." Hanna said, setting a bowl of porridge and a slice of buttered bread in front of him. "Do you need a warm up on the coffee? I have it simmering right here."
"Yes, please. This will have to be my last cup until lunch.. I mean dinner. I really need to get out there as early as I can and start breaking up that soil. I feel in such a hurry."
"It won't benefit us for you to rush. Take your time, do it well and the Lord will provide." Hanna stated, kissing his forehead and sitting down to her breakfast.
Chris took in a deep breath and arched his back looking out to the rock hard, cracked field. Little bits of grass stuck up here and there. He wished that there had been some recent rain to soften the soil but he would just have to deal with what he had. It was up to Gus and Gertie, now.
He hooked the horses up to the front of the plow. The strange contraption he'd used over at the Browley farm the year before. A curved blade attached to two handles for Chris to guide. Two more long, narrow boards with straps connected to the outer sides of each horse as another leather strap connected from their harnesses to Chris which he had to hold around the back of his neck.
The atmosphere on this early Tuesday morning was light and refreshing. Even though the cold mornings had ceased, the heat had not quite set in, so it was near perfect weather. The slight breeze would sweep away the beads of sweat that would soon scatter onto Chris' forehead.
"And so we begin..." he said, clicking his tongue to signal the horses to begin walking. Gus and Gertie were older horses and had done plowing and harrowing most of their lives. They were no strangers to the work and led Chris through the fields rather than him leading them.
He was grateful for such obedient animals since this was the first time he was on his own, with his own field.
Although he was alone in his work, his field was less than half the size of the Browley property, so he figured it wouldn't take him near as long to plow. Then there was the harrowing, then of course the seeding. The watering during the dry spells and spreading the hay in the rows for weed control.
His memory of what he learned from Mr. Browley was serving him well and he was thankful for that.
"Whoa." Chris said loudly while pulling on the reins. Gus and Gertie stopped immediately as Chris took off his hat to wipe his brow. He allowed his head to drop, pushed down his shoulders and rolled his head to the left, back then to the right to work out the kinks.
The early afternoon sun beat down and the breeze dwindled. He took another look around the field trying to not get discouraged by how much work was still ahead of him for the day. Something suddenly caught his eye. Something that glistened in the sunlight over on the North side of the property, just off the edge of the field.
All he could see was one shimmering dot. The light from it had a copper hue with beams glowing up, left and right. It was almost as if the sun was concentrating on this one thing. Chris couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. He grabbed the water bucket from the other edge of the field and allowed the horses to get a drink. A warm drink but a drink nonetheless.
Keeping his eye on the shiny object, he slowly made his way over toward it. The closer he got, he realized that whatever it was, it was sitting on top of an old maple tree stump. The stump was only about knee height and was about two feet in diameter. It seemed out of place since there were no other stumps around. Almost like it had been left there purposely.
The glowing object never lost it’s shine even as Chris approached it. “Money?” he said out loud. Indeed, a copper coin laid alone right in the middle of that stump. The dozen rings of how old the tree had been swirled around the coin.
Chris picked it up looking it over. “huh, a penny.” he said with little enthusiasm. “I’m so glad I wasted my time to come over just to find one cent.” he scoffed then shrugged his shoulders. Even though he was behind on his work, he welcomed the break.
Just as he was about to shove the penny into his coin pocket, he noticed what was significant about this single, little penny. The date.
“1985?”
How could this be. He looked around not even knowing why. He doubted for a moment when and where he was. He remembered celebrating New Years with the Browley family. The new year of 1869. Even a penny from 1885 would be odd, but 1985?
What could this mean? Obviously this was put there for him. Who was it from? God? His grandma? What was the significance of that year?
“1985..” he said to himself. Like a cement truck had plowed into him, he recalled the year quite well. It was the year that his world shattered before his very eyes. That was the year his grandma went to Heaven, the year that his dad left him and the year his mother began drinking and neglecting him. That was the year that he had to learn that he could depend on only one person, himself.
One of the things that he had learned since living this life in the 1800’s, that he was depending on the wrong person, so to speak. Who he should have been depending on the whole time was his creator. The one who made him, the one who created the Heavens and the Earth.
Perhaps that is what this penny meant. This is why God was trying to get his attention? “You didn’t have to burn down my barn in order for me to find a shiny penny.” Chris said looking upward.
Another thought was that this penny was from his grandma. She died that year. Before she died, she promised that she’d always be with him and she had certainly kept that promise especially since he had arrived.
Perhaps this penny is a symbol of her promise and to remind him of what she has continuously told him since his travel through time. Of how proud she was of him.
No matter the reason, that was the one he wanted to believe. Although he felt her around him constantly, he still missed her and longed for those ’dreams’ he had when he could feel her warmth and hear her soothing voice.
Whether it was a message from God of His longing for Chris to trust, love and depend on Him or if it was from his grandma as a divine message of her love and pride, he was grateful to have received it.
Any third option had not crossed Chris’ mind until the following week.