“He is not here, He is risen, just as He said!” Luke 24:6
One hundred and twenty-three years after that tragic day, my son discovered the marker of her grave. His search for the stone was initiated by, first his sister Amy’s and then his Mom’s reading of “The Children’s Blizzard”, the account of the horrible, tragic storm of January 12, 1888. One historian summarizes:
No other winter storm in the history of the plains, it may be safely said, was ever more destructive than this one. The states of Nebraska and South Dakota were visited by the blizzard in all its ferocity. Loss to human life and property on the plains, in places, was simply appalling, and the surviving residents of those sections cannot speak of it even now without an involuntary shudder. The storm burst with great suddenness and fury, and many there were who did not live to tell the story of their suffering.
The morning of January 2 dawned damp and gloomy. A mist had been falling during the night, and the wind, which blew gently from the south, was just cold enough to turn the moisture covering all nature into a light hoarfrost. Before noon the frost had disappeared and every indication pointed to an early clearing of the sky. Around the hour of noon a terrific storm blast came bearing down upon the open prairies and dotted valleys. In a moment, heavy leaden clouds were blotted out. A bewildering, blinding sheet of dust like snow was whirled through the air, and before evening the thermometer had sunk to 25 degrees below zero. The wayfarer, caught far from home, soon found his pathway obstructed by the drifts of snow and every familiar guide mark obliterated. His bearings once gone would mean certain death unless he should chance in his blind gropings to stumble upon some human habitation or friendly stack of hay or straw in his path. As the early part of the day had been so mild, many people had ventured from home. Scores of farmers were caught in the towns, where they had to remain for several days, chafing under the restraint, but absolutely snow bound. Others less fortunate, caught on the road, in the valleys or out in the hills, soon found themselves in a terrible predicament.
Everybody suffered immense hardships or inconvenience in this terrible storm, but none suffered more keenly than did the occupants of the prairie schoolhouses. On that fateful morning, Etta SHATTUCK, after sending her children home (all living near) tried to go to her home. Losing her way, she took refuge in a haystack, where she remained, helpless and hungry Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, suffering intensely and not able to move. She lived but a short time after her terrible experience.
Numerous exploratory bike rides this winter, visiting one country cemetery after another, finally found their reward when Robb discovered this marker in the Seward cemetery. There, country schoolteacher, Etta Shattuck, who loved her own students at the expense of her own well-being, is memorialized for her short life of 19 years, 9 months, 28 days.
As Easter morning rapidly nears, we look to another ancient marker. In a garden just outside Jerusalem, stands a rolled-back stone and an empty tomb. And those who visit the graves of their loved ones are given hope of life again, because the One who once rested in that grave declared, “Because I live, you shall live also!” John 14:19
See you Resurrection Sunday, Church!
Pastor Tom
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