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This passage fits the life of Rachel Bella Kahn Calof. The book, Rachel Calof's Story (Jacob Calof: Indiana University Press, 1995) tells the story about this remarkable woman who had to endure setbacks and disasters before becoming convinced that God was indeed with her. She never evoked pity from her readers. She plainly detailed the ordeals she had to endure as a young woman brought from Russia to be the wife of a homesteader in North Dakota before the turn of the century.

Rachel's life started out disastrously: her mother died when she was four, her father married a cruel stepmother, and the children had to tolerate beatings before being farmed out to other families by their father. Rachel became a maid at her aunt's house, was not allowed to speak to a boy (a butcher) she had fallen in love with because his position in life was "below hers," and finally was designated to be the mail--order bride for a homesteader across the ocean.

"Shock and deprivation were no strangers in my young life," she wrote, "but seeing what faced us in this new and hostile environment, I could hardly choke back my tears of grief." Her "welcome to America" supper consisted of a rare treat of boiled dough and cheese. A twelve by fourteen foot shanty gave no privacy to the seven people, chickens, and one cow who had to occupy it. Thus her life in America began.

Cow dung served as their fuel. When fuel ran out, icicles built up in their house until daylight would melt them. Every winter, Rachel, her husband Abraham, her children, and various in--laws would make her house their home to save fuel. It was a terrible burden on her, having to follow religious customs, yet still making a home for herself and her family. She fought bouts of deep depressions. "Of all the privation I knew as a homesteader, the lack of privacy was the hardest to bear," she wrote in her memoirs. There was no chance for private discussions or intimacy.

One day was particularly difficult. "I gave myself up to utter despair. As the tears ran down my cheeks, I reflected upon the course of this miserable life. My early childhood passed through my mind, the time of the servant girl and then my cruel stepmother, followed by seven years with my religiously fanatic grandfather. Within memory I could not recall having lived in a house which I could call home. Little tenderness had ever been shown me. I had tried so hard to raise myself to a decent life, but my way seemed ever downward until now my existence was hardly above the level of an animal. Dear God, I thought, whatever your reasons, haven't I suffered enough in my nineteen years to pay for the rest of my life? ... The pioneer life had brought me to the brink of desperation. Yet as always, a spark of resistance to my lot and a core of determination remained within me, and by morning I was prepared to continue toward my goal. Despair gave birth to courage. Thank God! I would have great need of it before long. Time and again my resolve was to be tested to the limit."

Every year, Rachel and Abraham learned a bit more from their previous year's trials, and every year life did somehow get a little easier, until they were able to build a bigger home. Rachel, her husband, and their children were finally able to experience life as a family unit. They were able to follow their religious customs and praise their God in their own tradition. Only after years and years of insurmountable obstacles and intolerable suffering was Rachel able to become her own person: a person of courage, strength, and enduring character. God was finally tangible, finally present in Rachel Bella's life.