Faith Alaska {excerpts}

When it begins, the sound of an avalanche is muffled. Deadly silence, as if the giant is tight-lipped about its birth. If you were to hit an overstuffed pillow with a baseball bat, that would be the sound of an avalanche being born…hmmpff. As the avalanche begins its trek down the mountain new sounds are heard; the sound of trees being torn from their roots, breaking apart as if they were nothing more than dried out twigs, crack, crack, crack.  Now the avalanche gains momentum, the massive frozen bed of snow breaks apart into hundreds of smaller pieces, reverberations like a rifle being fired over and over can be heard. Then will come the sound of the animals running down the mountainside, running for their life. Mixed with the sound of the trees cracking and rifle shots you hear their hooves pounding the frozen ground, the pace so rapid you can barely discern where one sound ends and the next begins. And finally you will hear the cry of the animals, their brays warning the other denizens of the mountain that they are about to die.

And then silence.

I wonder what sounds Danny and Tony heard. Those thoughts haunted me. When they walked out of Faith that morning my only thoughts were of the things I still had to do to prepare for the Christmas celebration. Those were good thoughts, now long forgotten.

Christmas was in two days but the town celebration, for what few inhabitants stayed over winter, was scheduled for Sunday morning. Pastor Moore expected there to be more attending church than a normal Sunday, or maybe he just hoped that there would be more. He asked mom if she would prepare biscuits and gravy for everyone to enjoy before the services. She warned him that feeding the sheep before the sermon may guarantee some random snores from the pews. He had laughed but assured her that very few ever fall asleep during the Christmas Story.

Sally recruited Clara and Nellie to help prepare the biscuit batter after Saturday’s lunch service. Saturday was the only day of the week that Sal’s Diner was closed for supper. Mom believed that her hard work all week deserved a time of rest and Saturday nights was that chosen time. Sundays were for families, from beginning to end so she would encourage families to gather at Sal’s each Sunday evening to enjoy good food and a last moment of family time before the busy work week would recommence. So on Saturday, December 23, 1939, when the diner should have been dark and empty after the lunch crowd left, the three women, Sally, Clara and Nellie were busy working away in the kitchen.

Only if they hadn’t been there…preparing food for God’s children. They weren’t supposed to be there! They should have been in their homes, far away from the reach of the avalanche. But they loved the church, they loved the people in the church, they loved doing for the church. Their love put them in the diner when the avalanche crashed down upon it, burying Sal’s Diner and crushing everything inside beneath its massive weight.  They weren’t supposed to be there!