I remember the night quite well. We left Wibaux for Glendive at 1:00 in the
morning. We had been sitting in the living room all evening, Lois thinking that
she was going to be pregnant for the rest of her life. It was about 10 or 11
when things began to start happening, and when it was time to leave, we called
Stanley Trollope, a neighbor and member of the congregation who had insisted
that he wanted to follow us to the hospital, no matter what time of day or
night. It was quite wonderful to see his headlights in our rear view mirror all
30 miles between Wibaux and Glendive, on a night when the temperature was 30
degrees below zero. That is a pretty desolate strip of interstate at 1:00 in the
morning. We thought the delivery was imminent, but then things slowed down and
Scott didn't arrive until almost 4:30 in the afternoon. However, he was still
the firstborn in the county that year, and we got all kinds of gifts from the
merchants of the area to herald his arrival (and to make up for the fact that we
weren't able to claim him as a deduction on our 1967 income tax return as
planned (because he had been due on December 22)). As I recall events of that
day, that was one of the last times that the elevator worked in the old Glendive
hospital. They weren't sure that it was going to make it that night, and the new
hospital opened not too long after that.
And suddenly, there was with the angel, a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying,
Shut up, Scott.
2 comments:
I love reading "on the night you were born" stories. Seriously, it's intimate and sweet - even the details about the scary elevator.
(I think the title of the post should read "There were shepherds imbibing in the fields...")
Heh, that sounds familiar. Our little bundle of joy that was due on December 26th screwed us out of a tax deduction, too. He or she hasn't arrived yet (maybe you'll share a birthday) but I doubt highly this will be the first birth of the year in the county.
Post a Comment