The Master's Touch

By Renee Oberreich

It is the story of a farm family settling in Wisconsin in the early 1850. It mainly follows one grandson who lost his mother early but wen on to become a teahcer and the wonderful girl he married. Through all the tribulation and heartache of life they never forgot their heavenly father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 24, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450256537

Renee Oberreich

Renee Oberreich, currently is Retired enjoying being Grandmother and Great Grandmother, has a teaching degree and taught at Country Schools in her younger years. She has previously published one book A Masters Touch. Renee, has four grown children and lives in Plymouth Wisconsin.

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Copyright © 2010 by Renee Oberreich

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4502-5652-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-5653-7 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 11/10/2010

The Master’s Touch

Comes from New York State Farmers

Frank & Leah Gibson

John & Sarah Roberts

Tom & Abigail Kent-Brother

Mary Martha Still born son

Carpenter

Caleb-Kathy Evans

Philip-Hope Moore

Joshua-Lois Kendall

Nathan

Lumber Yard

Charles-Anna Evans

Kathy Clara-Robert Adams

Timothy Amy

Frances-Peter Wales

Peter Anna Worked for Father-in-law

Caleb lived with Donna Perry

20 years after Kathy died

her children Luke Libby

Cheese Maker

Ed - Laura Moore

Hope Roger Mark

Caleb brought farm

Abigail after time died

Rented farm to

Henry & Mahtilda Miller

Aaron Tyler Kay Rachel

Lt. Col. Brain Kendall

Married Helen

Lois Lilly

Commander - Fort McCoy

Philip inherited farm

from her father

The Master’s Touch

My Path

When at times my life was dark and dreary,

With tear washed eyes I see more clearly.

The way I chose was not right for me,

It was not the plan that came from Thee.

The door that I thought mine would open wide

Did not, instead patiently drawing me to Your side.

With lessons of far greater gifts to me

Blessings, healings, forgiveness, and now I see.

How small were once those dreams of mine,

As now I tread paths of Love Divine.

Maplewood farm lay in a green valley in southwestern Wisconsin. It had a big red gambrel barn with 2 cement silos, barnyard and sheds in the back. The buildings faced south on the east side of the road. The white house was on the west side of the driveway and it had the upright and a long addition onto the west. There was a screen porch on the long addition. The orchard stood at the back of the house where lilacs and bridal wreath flowers and roses grew. And then in the back of the house was a large garden and chicken flocks. This was where Frank and Lilly Gibson had first settled 200 years ago. Philip had never farmed the farm, or his father, who was a carpenter. Caleb later bought the farm from Abigail when his brother Tom died.

Their house in Florida was sold. They were moving back to their home state, Wisconsin, Richland County from where they had come ten years ago. The rooms were crowded with packed boxes awaiting the moving van. Philip and Hope were sitting on the sofa in the living room with an open picture album on their laps. They had been reminiscing about their forebears and all the twists and turns of life that had brought them to this day.

Hope had gotten up and gone to the kitchen to make fresh lemonade from their lemon tree in the back yard. She looked over at her husband, Philip, of fifty years. He had put his head back on the cushions with his eyes closed. She saw the tired lines on his face. She thought, I was only eighteen and he nineteen when we were married but I am not sorry I married him even though my parents thought we were too young. It was rough in the beginning but I am so glad Philip was my life partner. We had our ups and downs and arguments like all married couples but we learned to compromise and adjust to each others viewpoints.

She took the lemonade into the living room and set it on the table and turned to Philip. Gently she asked him, Dear, what were you thinking about just now?

Philip opened his eyes, smiled at her and took her hand in his. He turned over her well worn palm and stroked it with his thumb. Just thinking of how well and lovingly these hands have helped me over the years. I don’t think I would make it without you.

Pulling her down beside him he said, See, here are the pictures of the farm as it looked when my grandfather lived there. I wonder what it was like when my Great-grandfather Frank Gibson and his wife, Leah came from the State of New York to settle there. We only have these stories my Grandfather John told me and I wrote down. I wonder how much was wooded, and about the first cabin they built, and how they survived the first winter. They came and settled in the month of May 1848 so they must have cleared some land to have food for the winter. I’m sure their hardships were much more than anything we have survived. I remember the stories my grandfather told. How they banked the house in the fall with old straw and hay. How his mother told him one time she was sitting out there drying her hair when around the corner came a bear. How she fed Indians passing through bread and cookies. When he was eighteen his father was killed as they were felling trees to make the barn bigger. Then my grandfather and his mother had to keep the farm going. When he was twenty two he was engaged to the neighbor girl but his cousin came out from the State of New York. Her name was Sarah Roberts. She could jump over a fence with a pail of milk in each hand and not spill a drop! Within a month they were married. See, here are their pictures. She was eighteen and he twenty two.

Then came the boys, my Uncle Thomas and my dad, Caleb. Tom was the farmer and took over from my grandfather. He made all the additions to the buildings so it looks like today. I remember running over there when I was small and watching them finish ripping out the old barrel cistern under the house and finishing the basement under the new part and digging the ditches to pipe water to the house and barn. What a wonderful day for my Aunt Abby.

"My dad was the carpenter and he kept five acres of land off of the original 200 and built the house we lived in where he brought my mother as his bride. Here are the houses as they looked then. What a wealth of memory they bring back. Here is our country school which is gone now. This one is of the white country church by the oak grove next to the cemetery where my great-grandparents, grandparents and my