We’Ll Find a Way: A Family’S Transition to Rural Life

By Todd R. Carver

Moving from the city to the country presents big changes, and especially so when living off the land becomes a way of life. Come along with eight-year-old Todd, and his seven-year-old sister Carrie, as they experience the Carver familys challenging first year in the country.

Well Find A Way is an inspiring story based on actual events. This heart-warming and delightful tale promotes family values, faith, and the strength to overcome obstacles. Well Find A Way is a book readers can escape into, or read aloud to their families!

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490850795

Todd R. Carver

Todd R. Carver is the author of several unpublished manuscripts including Stories From My Life, which recounts eighteen stories from his childhood. We’ll Find A Way is his first book. He is a country boy at heart, who enjoys wide open spaces and hanging out with his wife and children.

Book preview

Chapter 1

A New Beginning

I can’t see the road, Dad calls out. The roar of the car’s defrost makes it hard to hear him. Whirling wet snowflakes fall by the millions making it difficult to see. Winter, with no consideration for the feelings of passing motorists, is busy putting on its show. Large, heavy snowflakes land in clumps on the cloudy windshield before being removed by the wipers. It’s almost a game between the two of them. The wipers pass, momentarily clearing a space, and then the snowflakes return in great numbers. On and on they compete and repeat their game.

I love the snow. It’s hard not to like. It covers everything, and brings its own sense of quiet magic as it muffles the sounds of everyday noise. Plus, it brings outdoor fun and adventure. Always in the back of my mind is the possibility of school being canceled!

On this day, however, the winter scene adds to my feelings of excitement and anxiousness. Rush-hour traffic is slower than usual. I’m glad people are using their brakes, Dad says. It makes it easier to see where the cars are. With respect to his positive attitude, I have a feeling this trip is going to be much longer than we expected.

Gray skies quickly turn black as night descends. Still we creep along. I shift my position to give my tired muscles a change. Beth, my two-year-old sister, is strapped into her car seat and sleeping soundly. With her head tilted towards her shoulder, her arms relaxed by her side, and her slow measured breathing, she is a picture of peace. Looking past her I make eye contact for a moment with my other sister Carrie, who is seven years old—a year younger than I. For whatever reason, perhaps our close ages, we share a common bond and often think alike. Looking in her direction, I raise my eyebrows quickly. Seeing her return the expression makes me think that we are thinking the same thing: What are we getting ourselves into?

Our adventure into the unknown is just beginning. I look out the window, and as I do, my mind returns to the third-floor apartment, the only place I have called home for my entire eight-year life. In day dream land, I play the tape again in my memory of the meal we had weeks ago as our family sat together around the dinner table.

Well, children, my father began, I’ve decided to accept a position as a pastor of a small church. Pausing for a moment, he added, It’s a ways away from here.

The news did not come as a complete shock. After all, this was what his seminary program was preparing him for. The thought of change actually taking place, however, made me feel uncomfortable. I was slow to give any sort of comment. Up until this moment, I had never given a thought to living any other life than the one we enjoyed in the busy and crowded city. All of this would be altered. This chapter of my life was coming to a sudden end.

What’s it like? I asked.

Well, son, it’s very different. Looking out the corner of his eye in thought, he continues, I’ve only been there twice, but it’s out in the country where it’s pretty open.

"What do you mean, open?" Carrie asked.

The church and parsonage are surrounded by woods and fields, and neighbors are far away.

Daddy, what’s a parsonage? my sister offered another question.

It’s a house that belongs to the church, and it’s where the pastor and his family get to stay.

How long until we move? I asked.

Oh, a couple of weeks, I imagine.

My day dream continues to another scene later that night when Carrie wandered into my room. What do you think about all this? she asked calling me to express the thoughts I’m having. You didn’t say much at dinner.

I really don’t know. It’s hard to picture. I’m wondering what we are going to do for fun and if there’s anyplace I can ride my bike.

It’s going to be weird not knowing anyone, Carrie chuckled.

Yeah, I know what you mean, I added as Mom appeared in the doorway and said, Time for bed.

My day dream is interrupted by Carrie who asks, Mom is there anything to eat?

I have saltine crackers, apples and pretzels. What would you like?

I’ll have an apple, Carrie says.

And I’ll have some crackers, I say, feeling a little carsick.

Stirring in the seat next to me, and perhaps uncomfortable from a wet diaper, little Beth stretches, wakes, and begins to cry.

It’s ok, I say in a sweet voice, one that I reserve for babies. I wish I could be like Obi Wan Kenobi and use the Force on her to put her back to sleep. You’re just fine, I say as she cries again and raises her pitch.

Feeling frustrated by what is happening and from not knowing what to do next, I say, Mom is there anything we can do?

Here’s her juice, she answers handing me a bottle. I was hoping she wouldn’t need it so soon.

Satisfied for the moment, my sister guzzles the sweet juice and seems at peace. Minutes pass as we enjoy a short-lived calm. Slurp, slurp, slurp. Carrie pulls the empty bottle out of Beth’s mouth. Beth begins to cry, and her unhappy voice fills the car and puts all of us on edge.

Dale, I think we should pull over, Mom says.

Well, honey, I’ll try. I’m not sure how far until the next exit.

Carrie and I try to entertain the unhappy little traveler. The songs we sing and the games we play go unnoticed. Finally, we exit the highway and stop at a gas station. Not wasting a moment, we work together to free her from her car seat.

Here you go, I say as I lift her from her seat and hand her to Mother. Her crying stops. Apparently, this is what she wants. Mom changes her diaper, and soon she is content.

Parking next to us, is a familiar pickup truck loaded to the top of the cap with our belongings. It is Uncle Ron, my Dad’s brother. As always, he’s happy to see us.

Hey, how you goobers doing? he says as he opens his door to join us. Carrie gives him a hug around his waist, while mine is just higher, around the small of his back. You know, that snow is really something, Dale, he says with concern. I was worried about you staying on the road. You don’t have snow tires on the car, do you?

No, I’ve got my racing slicks on, Dad says with a smile.

They do look pretty bald to me, my uncle responds. Looking to the gray sky and the countless snowflakes he adds, Well, goober number one, do you think we should keep going?

Good idea, Dad says as he finishes pumping gas and hands the attendant the proper change. Into the cramped car we go again, but, somehow, just being around Uncle Ron has a way of lifting my spirits. I wipe the D shaped side window above my head clear of the fog, and ready myself for the rest of the trip.

Leaning in the corner of the back seat and using my jacket as a pillow, I close my eyes, and drift off into thoughts of what this place might look like. How big is the house? Being the only boy, will I get my own room? Where will we play? What will it be like without all the buildings, or the constant flow of cars and people? What friends will I have? What will their names be?

We’re here! a happy voice announces, rousing me from sleep. And so we are. Wherever here is.

Chapter 2

Wherever Here Is

Getting out of the car, I stop and look around. Straight ahead, a small, white church rests in front of a dark forest. Headlights appear as Uncle Ron’s Ford pickup turns into the snow covered parking lot and parks next to where I’m standing.

Over here, son, my Dad says from near the trunk as he loads his arms up for a trip inside. Turning in his direction, I see our home. What did Dad call it? A moment later I remember. Parsonage.

So, this is what you look like, I say to the house amid the falling snow. The cold hits me, and I ask myself what I should be doing. Not sure where I fit in all of this, I reach into the trunk and pull out a neatly packed small box of odds and ends. Walking up the sidewalk and going through the front door, I enter an empty house with white walls. My mother’s voice echoes around the room as she says, This is our home.

Home? I say to myself. I guess she’s right, but it seems so different—so strange. Setting the box against a wall in the living room, I begin to explore. Getting as far as the kitchen, Dad asks, Son, can you help us carry things inside?

I follow him out the front door and into the storm. The men are already carrying the next load back to the house. Arriving at the truck, I determine that I will take advantage of my small size to climb in as far as I can, and push the boxes back for them, so they don’t have to reach in so far.

Eventually, the job is finished and we all enter the house. Not having much to serve, Mom unpacks a few glasses, fills them with water, and hands them to the men. Not bad, my uncle says after taking a sip. You’ve got good well water. After a few minutes of conversation he adds, Well, D.A.D., it’s getting late. I better head back.

Are you sure? The snow is still coming down pretty hard, Dad says.

That’s what trucks with four-wheel drive are for. I took tomorrow off, but with this storm, I should get back in case there are any problems with the power lines. People need their power.

After hugs and kisses from all of us, he leaves, closing the front door behind him. How strange to be all alone together in such a new place, with floors littered with boxes of our stuff. Fortunately, the heavy furniture arrived the week before which made the move much easier.

Let’s get you kids to bed, Dad says, it’s after midnight.

Following him into the hallway,