She just stood there frozen when he discovered her; stood there and stared at him, fingers deep inside herself, as though not knowing what to do next. Micah had found himself frozen too, as he stared in amazement at the spectacle on display before him.
After an awkward few seconds of gawking at each other, Anna gathered her wits enough to drop her leg and skirt, and pushed her way past Micah, running from the smokehouse without saying a word.
Micah never told anyone about that day, and the two of them never spoke openly of it, not even once; but every time her gaze met his, he knew that they were both thinking of that secret moment, now shared forever between them.
Micah took a deep drink of the cool stream water to clear his throat of the gooey muck. At any rate, he was in no mood to fight with Anna. His fighting spirit was diminished with hunger and exhaustion. The way their trip west was going so far, he figured he might end up stuck out here on the prairie with her as his only option for a wife, and there was no point in making her dislike him any more than she already did. Of course, he’d have to survive if he wanted to marry someday, and staying alive for long in their current predicament was starting to look more unlikely with each passing hour.
He sat up on the bank of the stream and smeared the clay from his hands onto his tattered trousers, giving Anna an earnest look to show that he was serious.
“Honestly, Anna, we’re all very hungry,” he said. “This clay might not be the best thing that the good Lord could give us, it may not be proper sustenance as such, but at least it will make our bellies feel full. You really should have a couple of bites, and let the others get some, too. Maybe it’ll stop the cramps for a couple of hours, let us think straight. Who knows when God will provide something else fit to eat? Perhaps this is his provision.”
Anna considered his argument for a moment and then looked towards their parents, who were busy trying to construct a makeshift bridge for the horses and oxen to cross the stream. Micah followed her gaze, and shook his head in dismay at the incompetence of the adults who had led them into this wilderness. The journey west had been one long series of disasters. If God was trying to tell them anything, it was probably that they should not go west.
Anna gazed wistfully at the arguing adults for a few seconds more, conflicted. Realizing that no guidance about eating clay was going to come from them, she turned back to Micah.
“Is it dreadful?” she asked softly.
“It’s not flapjacks and molasses, but it’s a ton better than sand and grass, which is likely to be the only thing we’ll find to eat for the rest of the day, if we even make it past this stream before sundown,” he said.
Anna pondered this, and reconsidered her previous opinion.
“Perhaps you’re right and this is a gift from God,” she conceded. “It could be that God is testing us, to see if we will accept the least of his gifts with gratitude, before he leads us to fields of plenty.”
Micah said nothing, realizing anything he could say would only jeopardize the other children’s chances of getting a few hours respite from the gnawing pain in their bellies.
“Just one handful,” Anna said to the other children sternly. “It’s God’s will, I’m sure, but don’t be greedy.”
Within seconds all the children were digging hungrily into the clay, some shoveling it into their mouths with abandon, while others tested the taste and texture before committing themselves to the feast completely.
Micah scooped out a pristine lump of clay, not a hint of sand or rock at all, and formed it quickly into the shape of a little pie. He held it out in the palm of his hand, offering it with a wry smile to Anna.
“Imagine it’s your grandma’s apple pie,” he said kindly.
She took it and nibbled at the imaginary crust, evaluating the taste only briefly, before spitting it out and wiping
After an awkward few seconds of gawking at each other, Anna gathered her wits enough to drop her leg and skirt, and pushed her way past Micah, running from the smokehouse without saying a word.
Micah never told anyone about that day, and the two of them never spoke openly of it, not even once; but every time her gaze met his, he knew that they were both thinking of that secret moment, now shared forever between them.
Micah took a deep drink of the cool stream water to clear his throat of the gooey muck. At any rate, he was in no mood to fight with Anna. His fighting spirit was diminished with hunger and exhaustion. The way their trip west was going so far, he figured he might end up stuck out here on the prairie with her as his only option for a wife, and there was no point in making her dislike him any more than she already did. Of course, he’d have to survive if he wanted to marry someday, and staying alive for long in their current predicament was starting to look more unlikely with each passing hour.
He sat up on the bank of the stream and smeared the clay from his hands onto his tattered trousers, giving Anna an earnest look to show that he was serious.
“Honestly, Anna, we’re all very hungry,” he said. “This clay might not be the best thing that the good Lord could give us, it may not be proper sustenance as such, but at least it will make our bellies feel full. You really should have a couple of bites, and let the others get some, too. Maybe it’ll stop the cramps for a couple of hours, let us think straight. Who knows when God will provide something else fit to eat? Perhaps this is his provision.”
Anna considered his argument for a moment and then looked towards their parents, who were busy trying to construct a makeshift bridge for the horses and oxen to cross the stream. Micah followed her gaze, and shook his head in dismay at the incompetence of the adults who had led them into this wilderness. The journey west had been one long series of disasters. If God was trying to tell them anything, it was probably that they should not go west.
Anna gazed wistfully at the arguing adults for a few seconds more, conflicted. Realizing that no guidance about eating clay was going to come from them, she turned back to Micah.
“Is it dreadful?” she asked softly.
“It’s not flapjacks and molasses, but it’s a ton better than sand and grass, which is likely to be the only thing we’ll find to eat for the rest of the day, if we even make it past this stream before sundown,” he said.
Anna pondered this, and reconsidered her previous opinion.
“Perhaps you’re right and this is a gift from God,” she conceded. “It could be that God is testing us, to see if we will accept the least of his gifts with gratitude, before he leads us to fields of plenty.”
Micah said nothing, realizing anything he could say would only jeopardize the other children’s chances of getting a few hours respite from the gnawing pain in their bellies.
“Just one handful,” Anna said to the other children sternly. “It’s God’s will, I’m sure, but don’t be greedy.”
Within seconds all the children were digging hungrily into the clay, some shoveling it into their mouths with abandon, while others tested the taste and texture before committing themselves to the feast completely.
Micah scooped out a pristine lump of clay, not a hint of sand or rock at all, and formed it quickly into the shape of a little pie. He held it out in the palm of his hand, offering it with a wry smile to Anna.
“Imagine it’s your grandma’s apple pie,” he said kindly.
She took it and nibbled at the imaginary crust, evaluating the taste only briefly, before spitting it out and wiping
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