MARY BOLT was twelve years old. She lived with her parents in a lonely part of the country called Bolt’s Hill. She had had two brothers. The older brother, David, had gone to sea before Mary was born. He had come home two or three times since she could remember, and had always brought her and her mother beautiful presents. But he had not been home for ten years. His ship had been lost, but David was not among the sailors who had been saved. Everyone but Mary believed he had been drowned, but Mary could not think so. She always prayed for him that God would keep him safely, wherever he was.
The older brother, John, had been injured by the fall of a tree he was cutting down, and after a few months, he died. But Mary could remember the talks she had had with him, as he lay on his bed in the little room opening off the kitchen. John was trusting in the Lord Jesus, and Mary knew he was safe in heaven, never to suffer any more.
One November, the winter set in early, and very cold and stormy. The day before Thanksgiving, Mrs. Bolt said to Mary, “Now, Mary, you are to be housekeeper today. Your father and I are going to Rockville and we want you to stay at home, keep up the fire, and have a good supper for us when we come home.”
“It looks like snow,” said Captain Bolt, as he came in, “but it has looked that way for three or four days. There is plenty of wood in the shed for the fire, Mary.”
The father and mother went off and Mary washed the breakfast dishes, dusted the house and then sat down to her school work. And so the day passed away. Meanwhile it had bun to snow and presently big flakes came drifting down. Then the wind began to howl about the house and rattle the windows and to pile the snow in great drifts under the windows and along the fences. By night time, Mary realized her parents would never be able to get home through the storm. It was hard for her to think she would be alone all night, with only the faithful old dog, Bose, for company. But she brought out the big family Bible and read from Psalm 107, “His mercy endureth forever.” She knew the Lord was watching over her and would keep her safe in her loneliness.
She went into the shed and brought in plenty of wood, piling it on, to make a good fire. Then she sat down to read. The clock struck the hours six — seven — eight — nine — ten and still nobody came. No sound was heard outside but the shrill howling and deep roar of the wind and click of the snow as it was blown against the windows.
“There is no use in sitting up any longer,” Mary said to herself. “I’ll go to bed I guess.” So she knelt down, asking earnestly that her dear father and mother might be kept safe. As she prayed, she felt that the Lord Jesus was very near to her. She remembered the words, “I will never leave thee nor forsake thee,” and “lo, I am with you always.” So she was comforted and slept well and long in the little bed.
When she woke, all was dark. She heard the clock striking and she counted up to eight, and then it stopped. What could it be? Was the clock wrong? She ran to the windows but could see nothing but snow. Upstairs it was the same, and then she realized, the house was buried in snow.
The first thing Mary did when she was dressed was to kneel down and commit herself to God’s care for the day. Then she went into the shed and brought in enough wood to last all day. As she did this, she heard a creaking sound, and looking up she saw some of the beams in the roof of the woodshed were bent with the weight of the snow. So she brought in a great supply, just to be sure. As she went again, Bose stood in the way and growled when she tried to push past him. At that moment, the roof fell in with a great crash! Mary felt how good the Lord had been to her in saving her life, and she thanked Him from the bottom of her heart. “Oh,” thought Mary, “I never knew before, how good it is to trust in God.”
The second day passed slowly. Mary read her books, sang, and knit. She ate her meals and played with the dog and cat. That night she didn’t sleep as soundly as the night before. She kept waking, calling for her mother, and crying when she remembered she was alone and her mother far away. She would gladly have slept till noon, but that was impossible.
The third day passed slowly enough, but that day Mary made a discovery. She went up into the attic to see if there were any signs of the roof of the house falling in, and she found a tiny window near the roof where the sunshine came in! That was a welcome sight to the little girl. She knew at last that the storm was over. When she came downstairs again, Bose ban barking furiously and whining and scratching at the door. Mary listened carefully when she had quieted the dog and heard a muffled sound — it must be a sound of someone digging! She flew to the attic and piled one box on another. There was a long pole in the corner and she tied her apron to the end of it for a flag. Finding she could not open the window, she broke the glass and pushed the pole through, waving it about. Oh, joyful sound! Her signal was answered by a shout. She was saved!
It wasn’t very long till her rescuers burst open the farmhouse door, and Mary was in her father’s arms. And not only that, but the long lost sailor brother stepped forward to greet his little sister. He had been picked up from the wrecked ship by some natives and had lived with them on a remote island for five years, till a passing ship picked him up and brought him to America.
Oh what rejoicing there was in that home that day when the family, again united, poured out their hearts in praise and thanksgiving to the Lord for His goodness and mercy to them. So ended Mary’s lonely Thanksgiving, with much thanksgiving.
ML-03/10/1963