It Felt Like the End of the World
Illustration
Stories
People will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken. (v. 26)
Ernie Vohland was the baker in Montello, Wisconsin, when, fresh out of seminary, I was appointed to serve as pastor at Trinity United Methodist Church in 1978. He was one of the first people I met on Sunday morning, and later at Leone’s Bakery when I stopped in for sweet rolls the next day, Ernie wouldn’t let the new preacher pay.
The smells and tastes of Ernie’s pastries, made from recipes inherited from his German grandfather and perfected under the tutelage of his baker father, were an exquisite pleasure.
Every communion Sunday, a big round loaf of potato bread adorned the altar at Trinity United Methodist Church. It was the best communion bread I ever tasted. Jesus would have loved Ernie’s bread. But it is not that delicious bread or the special walnut danishes that I remember most about Ernie Vohland. It’s the part he played in a tragic event that occurred at Christmas time, just after we built the new church.
On December 16, 1984, we had an open house at the new church. About halfway through the afternoon, I received an emergency phone call. Ernie’s granddaughters, four-year-old Jessica Vohland, and her seven-year-old sister, Candi Rinehart, had fallen through the ice on a pond near Packwaukee. By the time I arrived at the hospital in Portage, I knew they had been under the water for thirty minutes, and that when they brought them up they were not breathing, and their hearts were not beating.
I found their parents, Bob & Lillian, in the emergency room lobby. Grandpa Ernie was in the hospital chapel praying. I remembered seeing him with his granddaughters in church the previous Sunday. And you can guess what Ernie was praying: “Dear God, if it be your will, take this old man, and let our little girls live.”
We finally got word that the doctors had revived both of the girls. Hospital spokesperson, Charles Church, quoted in a Portage Daily Register article, said, “The two girls were ‘technically dead’ before they were revived in the hospital, Jessica after a half-hour and Candi, after a full hour of not breathing. Church believes the girls were saved by the chilling effect the icy pond water had on their bodies… their body temperatures were ninety degrees when they were brought into the hospital. Church explained that a ‘hibernation effect’ took place that slowed down the girls’ metabolism as they experienced the hypothermia brought on by the cold water.”
Shortly after they were revived, the doctor said the girls were strong enough to be transferred to the trauma center at University Hospital in Madison. I drove down there and waited and prayed with the family for hours, until at last one of the doctors came to tell us that both of the girls were stable. I went home to wait some more and to pray with the congregation that was gathering that night for the annual Christmas program.
The girls were in critical care for several days. We were told that their chances of surviving were good. But on Christmas Day, as our family was getting ready to open presents, we received word that Jessica, thefour-year-old, had died. It was a sad Christmas for everyone in the Montello community. We had the first funeral in our new church building, and, miraculously, Jessica’s sister Candi was able to attend. It was a strange mixture of joy and sorrow. We concluded the service by singing “Joy to the World.” My wife Jo said she had never heard it sung so sadly, and with so much hope.
I am comforted by the memory of Jessica Vohland, and her sister, Candi Rinehart, kneeling at the communion rail, breaking bread with their Grandpa Ernie, in the shadow of the Christmas tree, the Sunday before they went through the ice.
Ernie Vohland was the baker in Montello, Wisconsin, when, fresh out of seminary, I was appointed to serve as pastor at Trinity United Methodist Church in 1978. He was one of the first people I met on Sunday morning, and later at Leone’s Bakery when I stopped in for sweet rolls the next day, Ernie wouldn’t let the new preacher pay.
The smells and tastes of Ernie’s pastries, made from recipes inherited from his German grandfather and perfected under the tutelage of his baker father, were an exquisite pleasure.
Every communion Sunday, a big round loaf of potato bread adorned the altar at Trinity United Methodist Church. It was the best communion bread I ever tasted. Jesus would have loved Ernie’s bread. But it is not that delicious bread or the special walnut danishes that I remember most about Ernie Vohland. It’s the part he played in a tragic event that occurred at Christmas time, just after we built the new church.
On December 16, 1984, we had an open house at the new church. About halfway through the afternoon, I received an emergency phone call. Ernie’s granddaughters, four-year-old Jessica Vohland, and her seven-year-old sister, Candi Rinehart, had fallen through the ice on a pond near Packwaukee. By the time I arrived at the hospital in Portage, I knew they had been under the water for thirty minutes, and that when they brought them up they were not breathing, and their hearts were not beating.
I found their parents, Bob & Lillian, in the emergency room lobby. Grandpa Ernie was in the hospital chapel praying. I remembered seeing him with his granddaughters in church the previous Sunday. And you can guess what Ernie was praying: “Dear God, if it be your will, take this old man, and let our little girls live.”
We finally got word that the doctors had revived both of the girls. Hospital spokesperson, Charles Church, quoted in a Portage Daily Register article, said, “The two girls were ‘technically dead’ before they were revived in the hospital, Jessica after a half-hour and Candi, after a full hour of not breathing. Church believes the girls were saved by the chilling effect the icy pond water had on their bodies… their body temperatures were ninety degrees when they were brought into the hospital. Church explained that a ‘hibernation effect’ took place that slowed down the girls’ metabolism as they experienced the hypothermia brought on by the cold water.”
Shortly after they were revived, the doctor said the girls were strong enough to be transferred to the trauma center at University Hospital in Madison. I drove down there and waited and prayed with the family for hours, until at last one of the doctors came to tell us that both of the girls were stable. I went home to wait some more and to pray with the congregation that was gathering that night for the annual Christmas program.
The girls were in critical care for several days. We were told that their chances of surviving were good. But on Christmas Day, as our family was getting ready to open presents, we received word that Jessica, thefour-year-old, had died. It was a sad Christmas for everyone in the Montello community. We had the first funeral in our new church building, and, miraculously, Jessica’s sister Candi was able to attend. It was a strange mixture of joy and sorrow. We concluded the service by singing “Joy to the World.” My wife Jo said she had never heard it sung so sadly, and with so much hope.
I am comforted by the memory of Jessica Vohland, and her sister, Candi Rinehart, kneeling at the communion rail, breaking bread with their Grandpa Ernie, in the shadow of the Christmas tree, the Sunday before they went through the ice.
