The first night on our pilgrimage to Mecca, we stopped at
the only hotel we could find in some dink town in
Nebraska. I felt like a pack horse when we checked in,
carrying all our necessary paraphernalia and baby
equipment. Each time we stopped for the night, it took a
minimum of six trips back and forth to the car just to unload
all the essential items needed to survive until morning.
Unfortunately, Ken wasn’t able to be much help,
handicapped as he was with his crutches. We were,
though, as always, perfect partners—he did the driving
and I did the schlepping.
I was carrying Jill, Peter was responsible for holding the potty chair, and David was carrying a box of diapers. As
Ken was checking us in, I noticed a huge crowd of people on the far side of the lobby. Most of them were wearing
cowboy hats and boots. We wondered if they had just come off a cattle drive. The desk clerk explained it was a 4
H group party, which included kids, parents, and grandparents. In a fenced-in area in the center of the group was
a huge (I mean mammoth) bull that had won first prize that day at the local fair. This type of event was a definite
novelty for the Koehler clan, so naturally the kids wanted to get a closer look at this four-legged celebrity.
Obviously, they were familiar with dogs and cats but hadn’t had any up front and personal contact with cows and
bulls.
In his haste to see the star of the show, Peter forgot he was holding the potty chair. All of a sudden the metal pot
stashed under the chair broke free. It rolled, and rolled, and rolled, loudly clanking across the tiled floor. This
unexpected ear-piercing noise frightened the once tranquil bull as well as the crowd surrounding him. Ken and I
actually thought there was going to be a stampede—against us. We were so embarrassed. We tried to
apologize, but everyone was busy attempting to quiet this agitated prize-winning ox before he did some real
damage to the premises. Ken and I decided it would be best to remove ourselves from the area as quickly as
possible and escape to our quarters. However, someone, namely me, still had to face the angry mob and retrieve
the culprit, the villainous potty pot. Taking advantage of the pandemonium, my husband took the two boys and
the empty wooden chair upstairs to our room. I thought it best to keep Jill with me as I figured the crowd wouldn’t
dare attack a cowering mother clutching her baby.
Let’s face it, this was just day one of a long, slow trip to the Promised Land. Can you imagine Moses doing this on
foot with thousands of men, women and children and no fast-food restaurants in sight? It boggles the mind! My
prayer that night was one of petition, asking (actually begging) God to protect, guide, and lead us to our new
home without further calamities. If He’s the Shepherd, as the Bible affirms, and we’re the sheep, then He’d
certainly make sure to care for His little flock of travelers. I remembered a Christmas carol I heard a little boy sing
one time. He had changed the words slightly and sang, “Joy to the world. The Lord’s in town!” I wouldn’t go as far
as to say that we didn’t have a few challenges on our lengthy safari, but all in all it was a wonderful family
experience, blessing us with many happy memories.
Contact: Peggy Koehler at kenfetti@aol.com
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