Ronda Rich

Syndicated Columnist

Patti has been a loyal friend of mine for 30 years. I can always count on her and I hope she feels the same about me.

We both grew up in farm families about four miles from each other. Patti has lived the American dream. She is a hero of mine, although history will not record her life and no monuments will stretch tall to memorialize her. Yet, she has my full admiration.

Better than that, she will leave the world as a better place for the three incredible daughters she and her husband Barry raised and the children they will raise with the same faith, work value and compassion. To a confused, hurting world, that is a tremendous contribution.

Patti and Barry worked hard from the moment that they married to make ends meet and build a nest egg. She clipped coupons, put in a vegetable garden every summer, then canned and froze enough to get them through the winter. Another friend of mine was a hunter who didn’t like venison, so he would call Patti and offer her the meat. She was joyous to get those calls.

Their primary goal was to pay off their little house that they had lovingly built, doing as much of the work as possible, such as building the cabinets and painting the rooms.

“Barry and I pray daily for the day when we will have our house paid off and we’re out of debt,” she would say from time to time. Her daddy had given them a few acres on his farm for the little house.

Around the time that the girls were entering their teen years, Barry received news that shattered their happy cocoon. A big utility company was informing them that they were claiming the little house by eminent domain. The news worsened. Her daddy had received the same letter that the company was laying claim to the smack center of his farm in order to build enormous utility lines.

Patti cried for days. “Our family and memories were made in that house.” I listened, sharing her grief. “They have to pay you, don’t they?” I asked.

She nodded. “But there’s not enough money to pay for our memories.”

They resisted. The company increased its offer, very then turned it over to their lawyers. Woefully, the family moved out, building another house, twice the size, elsewhere on the farm. The utility check paid off the little house and made the new house easily feasible.

I laughed. “Y’all prayed for years to pay off that house. The Lord answered but it wasn’t the way you expected. God’s crafty.”

Smiling, she nodded. “We’re grateful for this nice house.”

Patti’s daddy, a humble, soft-spoken man who had farmed while teaching carpentry at a technical school, did not back down.

If big city lawyers scared him, he didn’t show it.

“I worked all my life for this farm. The Lord will see me through.”

About 20 years ago, he sued the intruders. His lawyer explained how cutting through the center of his farm would ruin it. The judge ordered the jury to take a trip to see for themselves. When the jury returned and heard closing arguments, they were dismissed to deliberate.

In an hour, they returned with their verdict: Eminent domain was the law but the utility company would have to pay a stunning price for the right to ruin a common man’s life’s work. It was unbelievable to all in the court room.

Begrudgingly, the utility company paid what the jury commanded. Last summer, I was over at Patti’s to pick green beans in her garden. I looked at their picturesque house and over to the center of the farm where the land rises and falls gently.

I smiled. The utility company, despite the significant financial payments, abandoned the project.

The family got the money, as well as an untouched farm.

I love God’s craftiness.

Ronda Rich is the best-selling author of the beloved Southern series, Stella Bankwell. Please visit www. rondarich.com to sign up for her weekly newsletter.