Painted Vessels

by Gina Renee Freitag

  He went into the house, set the rest of the mail on the table by the sofa, and quickly opened Jed’s letter as he sat down in one of the chairs. While his eyes skimmed over the paper, Ada came in and sat in the chair across from him.

  “I didn’t realize you were home,” she said quietly. He continued to read for a few more seconds and then looked up with a smile.

  “It’s from Jed. Ada, they said yes!” She returned his smile as joyful tears pooled in her eyes. “That was an answer worth waiting for!” he said with a laugh.

  “When?” she asked.

  His smile relaxed the smallest amount. “Not for a while. They want to finish out the next market season. The earliest they could come is September. That’s still ten months away.”

  A slight look of disappointment flashed over Ada’s face, but she straightened her shoulders and broadened her smile. “Well, it will go fast, and before we know it, they’ll be here,” she said. “We may want to wait to tell Sarah, though. Ten months may not be long for us, but it will seem like forever to her.” Eli nodded as he thought about how long ten months was going to feel to him.

  “I think you’re right,” he said, attempting to be as positive as she was. “I’m going to write to them and suggest we visit earlier in September than we usually do. We can help them get ready for the move and travel back together. It’ll be a snug fit, but they can stay in the house with us. I told Jed we could add on to the house if we need to.” He laughed. “That should make Mrs. Russell happy. Hasn’t she been telling you for years that we need to do something with this place?”

  “Yes,” Ada said, giggling. “I’m sure she will have some very definite ideas on what we should do. You better consult her before you start.” She winked at him. “I’m so happy they said yes. Thank you for asking them. Well, I guess I should finish the dishes.” She stood and kissed him before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Eli leaned back in his chair and thought about his talk with Jed last fall. What he told Jed then was just as true now; he felt convicted that God wanted them to stay in East Haven. Even while having his most challenging conflicts with John and Edgar, he knew deep in his heart that he couldn’t leave. It would have been easier to return to the winter camp, but easy wasn’t what God required. Eli pushed through those difficult times, and now he felt a quiet peace.

  In fact, everything in his life seemed to have calmed down. He and Edgar maintained a neutral acquaintance; neither spoke of their run-in with each other regarding Jacob’s money. Eli, however, always brought Ada with him whenever he needed to go to the mercantile. He hoped her presence would make Edgar feel less apprehensive.

  John, who had become a humble and contrite man, seemed to want a true friendship with Eli. When it was time to harvest his other crops, he shared with Eli how merciful God had been, despite the corn failure. His other crops were remarkably healthy and had produced better than expected. During the harvest, when Eli wasn’t at the winter camp in September or at the Leg Run in October, he worked on John’s land for two days a week and on Ray’s the other three.

  After the harvest, John told Eli his plans for the next season. He promised to buy all his seed from reputable sources. He would need to rotate his fields because of the blight, and to be safe, he was considering not planting corn at all for the next two years. When he asked Eli’s opinion, Eli reminded him that he was the expert and should trust himself to make the right decisions.

  “You know, John,” he said, “You really need a foreman or a manager. You have a big farm and I think you take on too much of the work yourself. No one doubts that your farm is well-run, but I think you would benefit if you had someone overseeing the work with you.”

  “I suppose you want the job,” John said.

  “No,” Eli replied. “I definitely do not want that job. You have a few workers who are better qualified. Isaac Weber has worked on your farm for quite a while now, hasn’t he?”

  John nodded. “Yeah…Isaac has always been a faithful worker.”

  As Eli thought about John’s transformation, he couldn’t help but realize how much it contributed to his own peace, which made it easier to wait on God’s timing. He planned to enjoy the day-to-day existence of a tranquil life over the next several months. The only thing on his schedule until Jed and Rosa moved in was the next Leg Run in April. This, Eli thought, would be a nice change of pace.

  JAMES

  James O’Conner surveyed the mess scattered around him. The Leg Run events always left his studio in disarray, but he was used to that. It would only take a few days to clean up. But he felt bad for the volunteers who had to work in such chaos. As untidy as the studio was, though, he had seen worse.

  The last three events were much less stressful than the ones before. Of course, that was because of the same volunteers he was so worried about. He had more help over the past year than he ever had previously, and with Eli’s funding, he was more prepared and had better supplies.

  This was the third event in which the Gardners and Jacob Martin had volunteered to work. Last April was their first event, and it had gone well. They were even brave enough to come back in October. A full year had gone by, and now they had plenty of experience; they seemed to be professionals during this Leg Run. They remembered the children and made comments to each about how much they had grown since last seeing them. The families benefited from the extra help as well as James. There were fewer questions and less confusion in the lines, and the waiting room seemed more pleasant because of them.

  As James straightened the stack of papers in front of him, he made a mental note to file them away on Monday; he was too tired tonight. Eli tapped on his door and peeked into the private room used to fit the limbs onto the children during the event.

  “We’re heading over to the hotel now,” he said. “We’ll see you and Sophia at church in the morning, but we’ll need to leave right after if we’re going to make the afternoon train.”

  “Eli, wait,” James said, scanning his desk for a paper he had put aside for the young man. “I wanted to tell you about the hospital’s budget meeting. They hold a public assembly every August before their fiscal year ends. It’s an open meeting for any current or prospective donors. Most of the meeting will detail the planned budget for the upcoming year. The board appeals to donors who are willing to contribute toward the hospital’s funding needs. But they also set aside part of the meeting to listen to proposals from medical charities outside of the hospital. These charities are seeking to collaborate under their umbrella, but the board members are picky about who they work with. They want to keep their donors happy, so they won’t take on any unpopular projects. I thought you might be interested in attending this year.” James handed him the flyer.

  Eli scanned the information. “In August,” he clarified. “I think that might be interesting. Thank you, James. Will you be there?”

  “Oh, no! I’ve tried that before. Needless to say, my presentation was a disaster, and the hospital wasn’t interested in funding us. But then I met you—I think God’s plan was better. Anyway, you never know what you might hear at the meeting.” James yawned and stretched as Eli folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

  “You worked hard today,” Eli said. “Get some sleep; I’ll see you in the morning.”

  James nodded and waved to him as he left the room.

  ELI

  Eli slipped into the hospital’s budget meeting shortly after it had started. He had hoped he would have a few minutes to freshen up at the hotel, but his train arrived in Lambury late that morning. By the time he checked into his room, he was only able to toss his bag onto the bed and smooth out his jacket before rushing out the door.

  He took a trolley to the hospital, and after a quick search of the ground floor, he located the meeting in a large, crowded room. All of the seats in the conference room were taken, so he stood in the back with a few other men and soon realized he hadn’t missed much. A long table had been placed in the front of the room on a
raised platform. Elderly men in glasses sat with stacks of papers in front of them. They wore high-quality business suits and droned on about budget figures and cost projections. They talked of their need to raise funds for public art on the hospital grounds as well as a plan to remodel the waiting rooms and cafeteria. They discussed staff wages, equipment, and their back stock of supplies. Eli began to tune out their words, wondering if this was a wasted trip.

  He looked around at the other men in the room; most were dressed in suits and ties. He was underdressed in his rumpled travel clothes, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Those closest to him were chatting a bit too loud, making it easier for Eli to miss what the monotone men in the front were saying. They told each other jokes and gossiped about this person or that; he wondered why these men had bothered to come at all.

  Soon, the person who would speak next was being introduced. Eli missed his name and what he would be discussing, but he could tell by the man’s rough, informal manner that he wasn’t a hospital board member. Maybe he should pay closer attention. As the guest speaker stepped up to the podium, the gentlemen next to Eli continued to talk and laugh; their volume seemed to increase.

  “Oh, come on! This fella spoke at the last two meetings,” one of them said to his companions. They snickered.

  “You’d think he would get the hint,” another said.

  The man at the podium said a few words to the board member who had introduced him, but Eli was unable to hear the exchange because of the disruptive chatter next to him. He decided to move to a new location halfway down the length of the conference room. Once there, he leaned against the wall and was able to fully observe the rest of the discussion.

  “…you presented last year, did you not, sir?” the board leader asked.

  “Yes, and the year before that,” the man confirmed. “But I believe this year the hospital will truly understand the importance of this mission, especially if—”

  “Yes, yes! Hold on a moment,” a second board member said, holding up his hand. He had large front teeth, giving him a subtle chipmunk appearance that brought a grin to Eli’s face. “If most of the other members recall your presentation, why don’t you jump to the end and sum it up quickly. Just get to the main point and state what you’re asking the hospital to consider.”

  “Right… Of course,” the man at the podium said, looking down at his hands. He shuffled the notecards he was holding and then, with a sigh, tucked them away in his jacket. “Well, as you know, I work with children who have been rescued from abduction.” Eli perked up at the man’s words and took a few steps forward. “Many of these children are taken at a young age with the intent to be sold into forced labor or physical exploitation. The few who are rescued come to us at various stages of their abduction, and our ultimate goal for these children is rehabilitation and reintegration. Our hope is to reunite them with their families or, when that isn’t possible, to find suitable homes for them.”

  Mr. Chipmunk held up his hand again, signaling the man to pause. “Sir, could you explain why you feel the hospital would be interested in a program involving these children? It seems as though you should be talking to law enforcement. Abduction and exploitation are legal matters, not medical issues.”

  The man at the podium nodded and ran his hands along his jacket. “Yes, the rescuing of the children is done by law enforcement, but we work with the children immediately after they’ve been rescued and processed. We are often their first contact with—”

  “Excuse me,” another board member interrupted, this one skinny with a large beaklike nose. “You aren’t really answering the question. We don’t understand why you are talking to us. Wouldn’t an orphanage be better suited to take these children in?”

  “That’s not actually correct,” the man said, waving his hand in a negative gesture. “Orphanages are not prepared or equipped to work with the emotional and medical needs of these children. They are malnourished, injured, and abused—both physically and emotionally. They have illnesses and other physical traumas that need to be addressed immediately, sometimes over several weeks or even months. And I have barely touched on the mental and spiritual trauma these children face. They need a safe, long-term facility that is equipped to handle both the medical and emotional sides of their recovery. Perhaps a wing in the hospital dedicated to—”

  “Ah, now we come to it!” Mr. Beak-nose said. “How many of these children do you expect us to care for?”

  The man at the podium folded his hands together. “Those of us who are currently working with these children commit to their long-term care,” he explained. “We can have up to six children at any given time, and the reintegration process can take from nine months to a year. Occasionally longer.” The board members shook their heads and murmured to each other, appearing to lose all interest. The man continued with more passion, holding up both hands and raising his voice to regain their attention. “But we are not as organized as we could be if we had a localized facility, and I know that this would affect the—”

  Once again he was interrupted by Mr. Chipmunk. “I’m sure you can appreciate that it is not practical for the hospital to dedicate an entire wing—or even a section of a wing—and its staff for just a few children per year who may or may not be able to reintegrate into society. Honestly, I doubt any of our donors would be pleased to see their money go to these kids who, quite frankly, would be viewed as damaged goods.”

  “But if you would just—”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but we need to move on to the next presentation. I suggest you rethink speaking to us next year. I don’t believe the hospital is the right partner for your project. Thank you; that will be all.”

  The man was ushered off the stage and shown to the side door. Eli stood in a daze throughout the entire presentation, but he soon realized the speaker had left the room, and Eli still had no idea what his name was. He jogged to the door and, slipping through it, entered a long hallway. The man was already at the far end of it, walking away with slumped shoulders.

  Eli called out to him. “Excuse me, sir!” The man turned and waited for him to catch up. “I would really like to talk to you more about your ministry. I’m Eli; I didn’t catch your name.”

  “My name is Charles…” he began. As he reached for Eli’s hand, the door opened, and another man came running toward them.

  “Wait! Please,” he yelled. The new arrival was flushed with excitement. He stepped up to them and vigorously shook their hands as he spoke. “My name is Thomas Ives. I’m a physician, and you are exactly who I have been looking for! I’m certain I was supposed to meet you today. Please, let me explain.” Eli and Charles both nodded and mutually encouraged the interruption. “Over the last year, I have been feeling convicted to work with children in need. I didn’t understand to what capacity until hearing you speak just now. Please understand, I’m not concerned about my income.” He shifted his eyes between them. “I just want to provide a service regardless of the wages. I came here today hoping I would find something to pursue along these lines. When you started speaking, I knew your ministry was the answer!” He looked at each of the men with an earnest expression. Charles was still nodding, and Eli couldn’t suppress his grin. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Dr. Ives said, checking himself. “I jumped into your conversation. Are you colleagues?”

  “Actually,” Charles said, “Eli just introduced himself a few seconds before you came through the door. I would have to say, this day is turning out to be more productive than I thought it would a few minutes ago. God has brought me a physician, and…” He turned to Eli. “I can’t wait to hear about your interest in my work.” Eli continued to grin at the men.

  “Can I buy you both a coffee?” he asked. “I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say!”

  CHARLES

  Charles sat across from the two men. Their table was shaded against the August sun by a large, two-toned umbrella. He chose this one, knowing it would be quieter out here than inside the cr
owded coffee house. Eli took a sip of his drink before setting it on the table. He looked steadily at Charles and began to speak.

  “I think your work with rescued children is extremely important, but I think the hospital board was right; they’re not who you should be talking to. Even if they were willing to give you rooms and staff, it isn’t the right environment for the kind of healing these children need.” As he spoke, Eli removed his coat. Even in the shade, the air was too warm. Charles noticed the tips of thick, dark lines peeking out from his cuffs. This man had tattoos.

  “You sound like you have a better understanding of these children than most people,” Charles said, removing his jacket as well.

  “I do,” Eli said as a shadow passed over his face. “You see, Charles, twelve years ago my wife and I were those children. Let me ask you something. The ones you work with, are they marked?”

  Charles nodded. “Yeah, usually.” It was a detail he didn’t often share.

  Eli rolled up his sleeves, revealing more of his tattoos. “After we were abducted, we were able to escape a few days later. But not before we lost our families—and not before we were branded by the men who took us. We had our marks covered up, but that kind of scar doesn’t ever go away.” He paused and rested his arms on the table. “Shortly after we escaped, we were taken in by a group of people that nurtured and loved us. They helped us heal by showing us the unconditional love of Christ. That’s the kind of environment you need to create for the children you’re helping.”

  “And you have an idea how I can do that,” Charles said, leaning in toward Eli. His heart raced with the anticipation of moving closer to an answered prayer.