Down the silo chute

I remember it well. It was 1952. It was a cloudy and damp day in November. I was eight years old and I was assigned the task of throwing corn silage down for 40 cows that my Dad milked every day. Dad cautioned, "Be careful, the rungs may be slippery." I climbed up the 50 foot silo rung by rung and noticed that it was over half full. I spent some time forking silage down the chute with a multi-tined large fork. I finally stopped and called down the chute to ask if there was enough. No answer.

I backed out of the small doorway and onto the first rung and climbed down and checked for myself. For all the time I spent the pile of silage was pitifully small. I climbed back up again and resumed the task of making sure there was enough silage for those 40 cows. And then I climbed down again to check. Again, there was not enough. I climbed back up and continued. This time I spent a longer time; surely there was enough by now.

I backed out and onto the first rung. Just as I went for the next rung, I slipped off. My hands let go and followed my feet. I was in free fall.

How long does it take to fall 30 feet? Time stood still. I thought of my predicament, my whole life, my brother and sisters and the occasional fights we had, my parents and their struggles to make a living and take care of five children. What is going to happen when I hit bottom? Will it hurt? Will I break my leg, or worse? Will I see Jesus now? Will I be in heaven? All these things entered my mind as I sailed past each rung, missing each one.

Then I landed with a soft thud on the huge pile of silage I had spent time on building. I felt a little twinge of pain in my hip but suddenly all was quiet. I sat there almost in shock. I got up and suddenly realized that I was alive and I started crying like there was no tomorrow. I wandered down the aisle to a couple steps leading out to the door and sat down.

Soon my Dad's boss came in. "What's the matter?"

"I fell down the steps," I replied between sobs.

Then Dad walked in the door. "What on earth is the matter with you?"

"He fell down the steps."

Two years later I was riding with Dad in the car and I suddenly said, "Dad (maybe I called him Pop in those days), I didn't fall down those steps...I fell down the silo chute."

"I thought that's what happened. I went back to the silo and that pile of silage was pretty flat." He never let on he knew; never reprimanded me for it.

That incident changed my life...to look at life with a heart for definite but as yet unknown goals.