When quite a young woman, I sojourned with a farm family on the prairie of a northern state. Winter temperatures had dropped many degrees below zero. Nearest neighbors were two miles distant in each direction. On this particular evening the farm family had gone to visit friends and remain all night with them, leaving me alone to stoke the fires and catch up on some study. I had been a pupil in a Christian Science Sunday School and had been brought up according to the teachings of this religion.
Shortly after the family's departure, a man came to the door. He entered on a pretext. It soon became evident he was inebriated. He grabbed my wrist and locked the door, putting the key in his pocket. His violent words indicated my end was near. Nauseated with fear, I tried to reason with the man but to no avail.
Then suddenly I looked at the window and the dense blackness outside, and the thought dawned, "If there is a God—and there is—I shall escape." Instantly the right words came to me to say to the man. Immediately he released my wrist and unlocked the door. I flew outside. Where to go in subzero temperature without coat or cap? Close by was a giant strawstack. Burrowing deep within provided me with insulating warmth and a perfect hiding place. I could hear the man banging doors and searching farm buildings; but fear was gone, and I was secure and warm until the family returned the next morning.
