Choosing Joy

It was a sunny day in May and the countryside was coming alive. I (Natalie) remember the wide open sky, crisp clean air, and the sound of birds. Frogs and crickets were now going to put us to sleep at night instead of the cars and dogs we often heard at bedtime. It was refreshing to think we had a new beginning and all sorts of family adventures ahead of us. With three little kids, we looked forward to experiencing the life of country dwellers. On this particular day, May 19th, 2004, we had planned for cleaning up the old farm house and property we now called home. My family was visiting and available to help on a Wednesday, but Chris still needed to go to work. My uncles, grandparents, parents, brother, and sister were all there working to get us set up and clean all the dangers of an unoperated old farm. We had an old pond that needed to be drained, chicken wire rolls in random places, holes that needed to be filled, dog kennels that needed dismantling, and sharp, rusty pieces of equipment we needed to get rid of. It seemed that it was going to be a glorious day full of productivity.

The boys, Cameron, Caleb, and my nephew Alex, were also outside gathering bugs. Worms, ants, ladybugs, and slugs were available by the dozens now, and being squashed in their little hands. They ran around our property with squeals of delight and were determined to catch all they could. We had a bug catcher that was going to house their new friends and the boys wanted to find as many as they could. I remember telling them, “If you squeeze them too hard they will die.” Instantly, they slowed down their run to a fast walk and focused on softening their squeeze. Once they finished looking around the edge of the pole barn, which sat on the lower southeast corner of our property, they headed toward the pond. I immediately was uncomfortable with that idea, so I hopped on the three-wheeler that was close by in effort to get there quicker, as the distance from where I was seemed too far away to stop them from getting too close to the edge if I were to run. When I scooped the boys up, they were thrilled to have a ride in the attached trailer, so I did a few circles around our property.

I can remember the giggles and excitement in their little voices as we went through puddles and sped over little hills. I was peaceful and looking forward to more times of having fun together. When we finished our ride, I strategically placed them in a spot I thought would be safe. It was close to the house and away from everything I thought was dangerous, on a cement slab at the end of a long line of dog kennels that were eventually going to be removed. They quickly started to spread out all of their bugs and compare their new treasures. I told them to stay there so they wouldn't get hurt. I hopped back on the three-wheeler and headed toward the pole barn to park it. There was more work to do.

My sister was mowing the lawn, and one of my uncles was preparing to tear down all of the dog kennels that ran along the side of the addition. He had already taken the fencing off the top. The only part left was the seven walls made from cinder blocks that stood about four feet high, each four feet from the next. He tested the sturdiness of the first wall about 30 feet away from the kids, and to his surprise, it moved a lot easier than he thought it would. It fell out of his grasp, into the next wall. The cinder block walls crashed down on each other, and in seconds, the place I put the boys to keep them safe became the most dangerous place on the property. It was a domino effect. There was nothing to stop the last wall from toppling onto the boys. Our nephew Alex was on his knees with his back to the walls, so when the walls fell on him, his body braced the weight. He was injured. Our son Caleb was out far enough that the walls missed him completely. Over the noise of the lawnmower, I heard my dad scream, “Call 911!” as he pulled Cameron out from the under cinder blocks. Cameron was wearing an Incredible Hulk costume backwards and pink mud boots, easy to spot. He was limp like a sleeping child would be. All the noise around was silenced and time stood still as I heard Cameron’s sweet voice in my head say, “I am alright, Mommy.”