The Kingdom Land

by Bart Tuma

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be getting ready to start his life. God had promised him. Erik was supposed to be protected by God, not eaten inside by some disease he didn’t even know existed. Yes, bad things sometimes happen to Christians, but not now, not to him. He felt the next moment, the next year, and the rest of his life had no significance. Erik, in his despair, mused that his life never had any significance, so why would he think that would ever change? Time no longer held a future. Time now was only a commodity measured by clocks, not time to carry out one’s dreams.

  There must be a mistake. There had to be a mistake. However, as Erik held his hand over his good eye, he knew there was no mistake. Erik couldn’t even see the giant oak tree through his bad eye. All he could see was a semi-green outline that to his senses wasn’t a tree, although he knew it was. His life seemed the same as the outline of that tree; not precise or defined, only vague in its existence.

  “No, it can’t be. It isn’t. God, you can’t let this happen. It’s not supposed to happen this way,” Erik said aloud when he finally could speak. He didn’t care who might hear or what they might think. “Where is your healing? What about Your promise of my new life? Why did You let this happen in the first place? Was my life so bad that You decided to end any hope by taking my eyes? God, You’ve got to do something. What am I suppose to do now?”

  Erik’s fear in the pit of his stomach reminded him of the meetings at Hay Lake Hall in the sixties. Mary had remembered the hall for its dances and Henry. Erik remembered the hall in his nightmares. It was the Cold War and Russia was on everyone’s mind. The Civil Defense System would call monthly meetings to prepare the people for nuclear war. Fairfield was within a hundred mile circle of a battery of Minutemen missile silos, all supposedly pointed at Russia. The northern Montana missiles would be a primary Russian nuclear target, and Fairfield would lie in ashes.

  The meeting at Hay Lake Hall would start with a gentleman in an odd looking uniform coming forward. It wasn’t military issue and his shirt sleeves were so long it made it awkward to use the pointer he loved to wave. He seemed to relish the attention from the rows of terrified folks as he came to the front of the room.

  “Thank you for all coming this evening. As you all know, Cascade County lies in dangerous country when the Russians decide to attack. It is only with great preparation that we can hope to survive a nuclear blast, so I hope you all watch the next film carefully because the danger is real. Your life depends on your response that we will direct.”

  The man didn’t say, “if the Russians decide to act”. He said, “when they attack” with great certainty. Erik, even at a young age, had gotten into a habit of watching the Huntley-Brinkley news report on NBC. The man in the front was so certain the Russians were coming. How come Chet Huntley hadn’t said that on the news that evening? Was it a secret that only this man knew and it was being hid from the rest of the country so they wouldn’t panic? Or was that little man just trying to act like he knew something? Either way, Erik had watched the film, paralyzed in his seat as the large plume of an H-bomb enveloped the screen before him.

  Once home, Erik would sleep on the floor. The film said the lowest ground was the safest. But then he began to think. What if the Russians didn’t attack with the bomb? Maybe they would send troops over the Pole and through Canada to take out the Minutemen with sheer force. That’s what he would do. He would save his bombs for the cities and send troops for the missiles before anyone knew better. No one would know the troops were coming, but they would show up at their farmhouse first since they lived on the unguarded border. Low ground wouldn’t be good enough. He would have to find a place in the culverts or the coulee brush where the troops would overlook a small boy.

  As he finally drifted off to sleep, he would see wave after wave of soldiers crossing the fields, and Erik, undecided and unable, would never find a place to hide. The Russians would take him. It was only a matter of time. He knew it was inevitable, but he could do nothing to avoid it.

  The fear he felt now felt the same as after the Hay Lake Hall movies. He knew the inevitable was coming and there was nothing he could do to hide from its consequences. He didn’t know how or when the attack would be complete, but his fear bore witness that it was close and final.

  His fear was mixed with thoughts racing through his mind. He thought of what could have been, and what needed to be. He most feared that he would never be able to see his child from a wife he didn’t even know yet. What woman would want to marry a man who could neither see her nor provide for her? More than any other sight, he wanted to see that child. He wanted to witness the baby holding its arms out, reaching and calling for daddy, and then for him to be able to pick up the child and comfort it, and show that it was loved and needed. Erik wanted to do for a child what no one had ever done for him. That scene might not be possible now, and that reality made him sick to his stomach. He wanted his son to know his father as a complete man, not a cripple like Erik’s father had been with booze and that Erik was now.

  As he looked around, he strained to pick out details that he might have missed before, and that he might not have the chance to see again. He abhorred the thought that he could lose his sight. He had seen nothing so far in his life, at least nothing worthwhile. Nothing but the dirt covered land, and yet that would be all he would have to hold in his memory. He had not seen the color of waves breaking on the shores of the Pacific. He had never witnessed a fine play at a theater, or the magnificence of a skyscraper. He hated the land he now abhorred not seeing again more than ever. He had told God before he would go back to that land to make things right. Now God seemed to no longer exist. There was no reason to return. There was no reason for anything.

  Chapter Thirty

  The trip home had never been longer. Erik tried to notice everything that might make this ride different from the others. He wanted to see something that he had missed before so he could hold it in his memory when his eyes would no longer carrying the image.

  He noticed a yellow farmhouse that, unlike most, wasn’t white but had bright yellow paint covering its three floors with a large patch of trees to its left. Out front there was an old horse plow where the mailbox hung and a sign that read “The Halverson’s” There was a small ravine into which the road dipped and a stream laced its bottom. Alongside, a few birch trees lived, fed by the stream’s flow.

  By the highway there was a notice warning of crossing deer, but Erik had never seen deer there. He believed that sign was only put there to generate false hope, as were the pictures of the “Farmer’s Journal” wheat fields.

  On that trip there wasn’t enough to keep Erik from going back into his thoughts. He had always lived in those thoughts more than his surroundings and this day made it even easier. Henry continually tried to capture Erik’s attention with conversation, and several times succeeded, but only briefly.

  “Erik, you didn’t wait to hear all the doctor had to say. He thinks there might be a chance they’ll have good success with your eyes. If the surgery goes well you might be able to see forms out of your bad eye.”

  “Forms? What good will forms do me?”

  “He said that it would help in your depth perception. That way you wouldn’t reach for something and find it wasn’t there.”

  “Yeah, I know what depth perception is. I’ve lived without it for the past few weeks. But it seems to be the story of my life. I reach for something and it simply isn’t there. How many times can you do that until you realize its better not to even reach?” The realities of Erik’s remarks were too sharp for there to be a response and they simply traveled once again in silence.

  “Erik, are you going to have the surgery?” Henry finally tried again.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Of course you have a choice, but I think only one smart choice. Dr. Adler said you would have complete blindness in that eye if you just let it go, and your other eye could progress, so you need to keep everything you
can.”

  Erik’s voice was wistful, as if he were a small boy. “Couldn’t we put off the surgery for a couple of months, until next year or something? Let me get some of the school done?”

  “You heard what the doctor said. It’s a crucial time right now, especially to keep the other eye from doing the same thing. Besides, you’re going to be limited in what you can do for a while. The doctor said you shouldn’t be driving, and I don’t know if it would be smart to head off to school right now. Erik, what do you think? Erik?”

  Once again Erik’s eyes were transfixed out the front window. Tears began to swell in his eyes so he turned farther away until he was looking straight into the side window glass. The window had a slight layer of dust, and the sun was growing dim on the horizon. With the dust backing, the window acted as a faint mirror.Erik saw himself as inlaid on the passing country side.

  His reflection froze on the glass as a ghostly image impressed on the window. The landscape rose and fell with the rolling plains, only his face remained entombed on the makeshift mirror. He had always known he was part of this land, but the image showed him as the land itself.

  He looked at his eyes—the eyes carried his strength; those eyes guided the tractor and witnessed the sunset. It was his eyes that always portrayed the softness in Erik, and now they were dying.

  He tried to see if the damage to the eyes could be seen. The left eye seemed lifeless. He didn’t know if that came from the sickness within the eye or the sickness within his heart. In the best of times, Erik’s eyes danced with life and light. Now they were merely stone encased within his face against the picture of the passing land.

  The passing land contained harvested fields and strips waiting for next year’s crops. What Erik saw wasn’t any specific feature of the land, but the rising and falling landscape against his face. It was as if his life was passing by in that window, but he was encased and unable to move. He wanted to move or to shout or to cry, but the land merely passed by and his image in the dust-covered mirror reflected no hope of change.

  “Erik. Erik.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think it would be good if Sunday you’d let the elders anoint you with oil and let the people pray for you.”

  “Sure, I’ll do that. I’ll let them do that,” Erik responded without conviction.

  “Don’t give up on God, Erik.”

  “I don’t know right now, Uncle Henry. I don’t know anything. It’s like I’m just in another dream, but this time it’s a bad dream. I don’t know what to do or what to think. Where do I go from here?”

  “You can only take one step at a time,” Henry reminded him. “It’s too early to know how your vision will turn out so don’t turn your back on Him. No matter how your eyes turn out, you can’t shut Him out. Don’t start thinking about the future. Think about what is going to happen this week.”

  “I don’t even know what’s going to happen this week. Sure, I’ll let them cut into my eyes, but what will that accomplish? See, I was just about to take the first real step that meant something new in my life, and you say take one step. How can you take a step if you aren’t going anywhere?”

  “Erik, I’m not good like John at explaining things, but I do know the Word of God, and I do know Him. I know that He has been true to your aunt and me all our lives. There’ve been times when I just couldn’t figure things out, but He has always been true.

  “I don’t know if you even remember, but there was a time in my life when I thought all my dreams for the farm had ended. You were only thirteen so maybe you didn’t even know what had happened.

  “Your aunt and I had just put a third mortgage on the farm to buy the 200 acres from the Hylands. I had to plead with the bank to get the money, but I knew that land was good and our farm was just too small at the time to survive. I felt I needed to trust the Lord to keep the farm. By the end of the first year I thought I was a genius and it was clear to me that the Lord had been with the purchase. That year the crops were great.

  “They were more than great. They were the best I ever saw; at least seventy-five bushels per acre. I had taken the chance and planted barley and the samples showed it would be malting barley rather than feed barley, so the price for that grain would be five times normal. I thanked God every day as I walked through those fields and saw the harvest become ready. The barley was so heavy it lodged over on itself; the heads were so full of kernels that the stems couldn’t hold them straight.

  “I couldn’t believe that the Lord had opened up buying that land just in time for the best harvest ever. It was great. I knew He was great.” Henry paused, remembering.

  “Then came the first day of harvest. I’ll never forget that day. I had just pulled the combine into the first field, the forty acres straight east of the house. It was a great feeling to see the reel of the combine pulling in that barley. I could almost see myself handing the check to the banker and telling him how great my God was.

  “Late the same afternoon I glanced towards the west. Some clouds were starting to build. They weren’t the normal clouds. They were tall and they were topped with white. I had seen those clouds before. They were hail clouds. The weatherman hadn’t said anything about a storm, but I could see the clouds getting bigger and bigger and closer and closer.

  “My first instinct was to stop the combine and cry and then to pray. But there was no time to stop. I needed that harvest. So I prayed out loud while the combine worked. I tried to make the combine go faster, but the machine could only handle the thick grain so fast. I could only go at a crawl while the storm looked like it was on a locomotive. I prayed that the Lord would steer the storm north or south or anywhere but here. As the clouds came dead on towards me, I prayed that the Lord would change the hailstones to drops of rain.

  “But those clouds didn’t stop. They seemed only to build in size and speed. Within an hour they hit the field I was working. It sounded like machine gun fire was hitting that combine when the storm hit with its hailstones. The fields right in front of me that stood so tall with grain was flat to the ground in minutes. The hail stones were so big they left pit marks on the sides of the red combine. Until I sold that combine I was reminded of that storm.

  “Those stones left nothing of the crops. The heads were so full they were knocked free of all their kernels. And it wasn’t just the forty acres I was working on. It wiped out all the fields on the main farm. The only crops the storm missed were the two hundred acres of the Hyland’s farm that was separated from ours.

  “I guess I should have thanked the Lord that He gave me the one piece of land that was spared, but I wasn’t in the mood for thanks. It seemed to be that land and its mortgage might cost me the whole farm. Those two hundred acres wouldn’t pay the mortgage or seeds for next year or even hardly enough to put food on the table.

  “In two hours time I had gone from the excitement of the harvest to despair that the harvest now lay useless on the ground. I thought my life had ended ‘cause I thought I had lost the farm. I thought the land I worked for years would be taken over by the banks with that third mortgage. I had trusted the Lord and it seemed like the Lord hadn’t answered my prayers.

  “I thought I was going to die, but a funny thing happened. I didn’t. I didn’t lose the farm, and my life didn’t come to an end. Things were tight for a long time, but the Lord took us through it and He protected our lives. He was true. The hail destroyed the harvest, but it couldn’t destroy our lives unless we let it.

  “I remember going to talk to Pastor Griffith. I’m not sure if you remember him, but he was a great man. I told him about my problems and asked him to pray for me that the Lord would miraculously provide me with money. He said he would be glad to, but then he asked me a strange question. He asked me where I would be a thousand years from then. Of course, I said “with my Lord in heaven.” He told me not to forget that. He wanted to remind me that today is important, but we also need to remember that the conclusion of today is not the conclusion of our li
fe. He reminded me that Scripture said of Jesus that He knew where He came from and He knew where He was going. It was because of Him knowing His final destiny that He could live through the crisis of the day.”

  It was unusual for Henry to give such a long story, but today was an unusual day. Erik did remember that time for a different reason. Usually, when they would all go to town, the Coopers would give Erik $2.00 to spend on candy and then they would go to the Point Drive-In for lunch. After that storm there would be no $2.00 and there wasn’t enough money to even buy a Coke from the Point. Times were tough. Erik just didn’t realize why at the time.

  Erik could have felt insulted that a simple destroyed crop could be compared to his destroyed life. Erik knew better. He knew Uncle Henry’s farm was his life, and to lose it would mean the end to his dreams, just as sight was the end to Erik’s. But too much had happened the last two days for a nice story to make a difference. It was like listening to the old men talk about the old revivals. They were great stories, but they just didn’t change today. Besides, his uncle had his wife to help support him while Erik had no one. Erik didn’t know if he had the grit of Uncle Henry.

  Someday that story of the hailstorm would be important for Erik to remember, but today’s sorrow closed his heart and ears.

  “Anyway, Erik, you’re talking like you’ll never have a chance again. If you want to show you can do something, show you’ve got the guts to still make those dreams come true. You don’t know how your eyes will come out. Neither do I. He does. Your life is far from over with or without your eyes if you don’t hide from Him. You need to see His hand in your life.”

  “It just doesn’t make sense to me,” Erik replied when it was obvious Henry had finished. “God shouldn’t let this happen. You picked a funny choice of words when you said that I needed to “see” God’s hand. That’s the problem. I don’t know if I will be able to see and what I see of Him seems so different. This isn’t the God I’ve read about in the Bible or that I’ve seen in my life. He doesn’t take people’s eyes and make them go blind. Why did He let this happen?” Erik asked for the fifth time that day without an answer.