®
Hertzler
Farm
and Feed Inc.
|
|
|
|
Fire By Pat Hertzler November 18, 2004 A voice on the
phone said, “I just got a call from Denbigh and the home place is on fire.”
Suddenly time stands still, horrible images flood the mind, the heart
skips two beats and then the mind says, “It can’t be true.” “What
do you mean the house IS on fire?” You
suddenly realize it is NOW, right now, happening at this precise moment.
A special house of memories and treasures is burning 90 miles away and
you can not do a thing about it. Is
it a small fire on the kitchen stove or a fully engulfed, raging inferno?
Is everyone safe? How long
has it been burning? What happened?
Ten minutes later we were on the road racing towards Denbigh. As we
traveled, our minds were on one situation. We
had few answers. We were told the
fire started around noon. It was now 3 o’clock and the fire is still burning.
The travel conversation became questions that neither of us could answer
and reflections on the what-ifs and the has-beens.
The useless babblings were somehow soothing to the nerves and unsettling
all at the same time. The house is
the Hertzler home place. Currently
the home where Oliver & Anna Mae Hertzler (Gene’s parents) live and raised
their children, it was built by H.P. Hertzler (Bob, Gene & Ray’s Grandpa)
in the heart of what used to be a rural Mennonite colony.
In 1897, Isaac D. Hertzler and D.Z. Yoder bought a 1200-acre run-down
plantation. The land responded to
the Mennonites and a colony farmed, prospered, multiplied and worshipped in a
tight-knit community. As the
surrounding city grew, houses and shopping centers began encroaching on the farm
community. In time the colony began
to disperse in search of other farming land. A group moved to Powhatan and began
PMC. Today there is an urban
Mennonite community in the heart of the city of Newport News. The Hertzler home
place is one of the last remaining farm inside city
limits. About a mile
from our destination we rolled down the windows and sniffed the air.
A pungent burnt odor permeated the air.
We rolled up the windows and rode in silence. As we turned on Colony Road
we could see the flashing lights of the fire trucks.
Then the house came into view. People were everywhere.
The house was still standing. It
almost looked normal! The firemen
did a wonderful job of saving the house. It
was bad, but it could have been so much worse.
It is repairable. In the
midst of the overwhelming devastation there was relief and hope.
It was sad what was lost and amazing what was saved unscathed.
Friends and neighbors were offering words of comfort and help. Stuff.
It is JUST stuff. But no, it
is so much more than meaningless possessions. Pictures, photo albums, family
heirlooms, homemade keepsakes, comfy clothes, financial records, handmade
quilts, china set, mismatched chairs, refinished furniture, books. That stuff is
precious, priceless treasures! A new chair
may look better and fresh pictures may glow but the sentimental value can never
be replaced. We know God will give
strength when we are weary, his grace will be sufficient, and his peace will
calm. We have no claim of tomorrow
even though a new day beckons. We
are pilgrims with roots and homes in a foreign land.
Sometimes we discover how fragile life is and yet how settled we have
become.
|