The Cave

Growing up, we simply called it, "The Cave". It is a very small little cave tucked away in a wooded area over the hill behind the farm. It's not on Betz property. In fact, I'm not even sure whose land it is on. When I was little, my brothers and sisters would occasionally make the walk to the cave. It was rare that I was invited to go along. It was probably because I was the youngest and it was a long trek to get to the cave. It took forever to get there. At least it seemed that way back then.

The tiny cave is made of sandstone and is located in the side of a wooded hill. It has 3 "rooms": One small room and then a tiny room off to each side of the small room. When I was a kid, I always thought of this cave as being a lot like the spot where Jesus was buried. I could just imagine a stone sitting ajar at the mouth of the cave and people peering in to see that Jesus body was no longer there.

The walls of the cave are covered with the carvings of the names of those who have visited the cave over the years. There is an old abandoned well very close to the cave. As kids, we were told to watch out for that well if we walked to the cave. If we fell in, we might never be found. I never understood why there was a well dug there, far from any house. The cave was most likely dug out of the hillside by someone long ago who wanted a storage cellar of some kind. The same person is likely to have dug the long abandoned well.

There also was the story of a farmer from years ago who had been in the woods near the cave, chopping wood. He accidentally hit himself in the leg with the axe and bled to death before he could make his way back home. Just today I found an old newspaper article about that man's accident. He actually was in a field near his house, not by the cave when his axe hit an artery in his leg. He made it back to his house. His wife tried to phone for help, but the telephone wasn't working. She flagged down a passing car to get help, but by the time help arrived, her husband had bled to death. When I was young and heard about this accident, I thought it had happened in the early 1900's. In reality, it was in 1952. Apparently the reason I thought the accident happened near the cave was simply because this man and his wife used to own the land where the cave is located.

It had been decades since I'd been up to the cave. Easter weekend of 2009, some of us decided we would make the hike to the cave. It had been so long since I'd been there, I didn't even know the way. It turned out that it was closer than I ever knew. What I used to think was an hours long hike turned out to be maybe a half mile from the farm house. What used to seem like a huge forest where the cave was located, turned out to be about 1/8 the size of what I expected. It didn't take long to locate the cave. It was just as I remembered it. Except I never realized how many names had been carved into the walls. What a treasure it was to find my dad's name carved there.  Mother's name was no where to be found. I imagine she never set foot in the cave. She did not like caves in the least. I saw a lot of names I recognized carved there, as well as many I didn't. I did not see Mary Magdalene or Virgin Mary there, so I guess this wasn't where Jesus was buried.

Only 5 days after visiting the cave in 2009, my dad died. A few days after Daddy's death, I walked up to that cave again, just to see his name carved in the wall. Some how, knowing he'd been there all those years before and had carved his name there made me feel closer to him. In much the same way that his name had been etched there, my memories of him and his love for his family have been forever etched in my heart.