The time was Christmas 1968. We were newly married, for only two months. My parents wanted us to come for Christmas dinner; my mother was a marvelous cook and I couldn't miss her special dinner. Jim and I celebrated Christmas morning together opening gifts and remembering God's greatest gift to us. Then we set out for Scandia for dinner, to be about two o'clock.
The weather was terrible, a consistent minus 40, as it had been for three weeks. The heater in our car wasn't working so it was a cold trip from Calgary to Scandia. But we arrived safely and had a wonderful dinner and visit with my parents. We stayed for several days.
My father had had some real financial setbacks that had begun several years before while I was still in high school. There had appeared in the country a new form of blackleg which the vaccines we had given our cattle did not prevent. I remember him coming in from feeding the cattle many mornings dejected and discouraged, having found yet another steer dead in the feedlot, its leg stiffly in the air. In attempting to recover financially, he had purchased a couple of purebred Polled Herefore cows and a bull, no small investment, as purebred cattle were very expensive. His plan was to sell the offspring of these animals for prices sufficient to pay his debts.
Besides the farm where we lived, my dad also owned a quarter section about a mile south. No one lived there but where he had cattle pastured. The next day after breakfast, my brother Herb, who had gone to the other farm to feed the cattle, came running in shouting for us to come and help. Two cows had fallen into the stock pond and he needed everyone. We thought that ice had formed on the pond overnight and, in an effort to get a drink of water, they had strayed onto the ice and fallen through. Herb was a big man, but not big enough to pull a cow out of the water by himself.
My dad, mom, Herb and Jim and I piled into vehicles and raced out. When we got there, we could see that my brother had roped the most valuable cow, the rope still around her neck. We all grabbed onto the rope and together we pulled, like a giant game of tug of water. It soon became obvious that the cow was winning. When we pulled, she just leaned back agains the rope and we were no match. It was so cold, and the water so cold that soon she began to just lie down; she had given up. We knew it was now hopeless. My dad called me to drive back to the house and call a couple of neighbors to see if anyone had a tractor that would start in the extreme cold. It seemed a last resort, and an unlikely one at best, because of the time it would take, even if we were lucky enough to find an operating tractor.
I jumped into the car and started sobbing as I drove. I prayed with all my heart and pleased with Heavenly Father to help my dad. I said how much I loved him, that I had seen him help so many people, and though he didn't attend meetings, his heart was right and he had always done everything he could to support me and others who needed help. I really pleaded with Him to somehow help that cow to safety because only He could.
When I got to the house, I phoned the closest neighbors and did find one with a tractor, but he said itw as so cold they hadn't been able to get it to start. I went to deliver the bad news. When I got to the pond, everyone was standing together in wonder and not saying much. I was astounded to see that both cows were gone from the pond. When I asked what happened, someone explained with great wonder, that suddenly the cow that we had been pulling on had just stood up and climbed out of the water and up the bank of the pond. They still couldn't believe or explain it. After that, they roped the other cow and together, with her trying to help, got out too.
Anyone who has worked with cows knows that once that cow started to lie down in the water, the chances of getting her out were next to nil. Only God could do it. It was truly a Christmas miracle and an answer to my heartfelt cry for help.
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