I suppose I hoped, in answer to my prayer, to become suddenly theologically profound. That didn't happen. I still have questions. There are so many things about the Bible and about God Almighty that I do not understand and will never understand.
But perhaps I did get a few answers through my wrestling and questioning. His word is true, and my lack of understanding doesn't change that. God is good, and the awful things that happen in this world don't change that. He doesn't mind my questioning. He can handle my "Why, God?" He loves you and He loves me, and whether you and I live into old age or not won't change that.
In Revelation, Jesus says, "I will ask nothing more of you except that you hold tightly to what you have until I come."
I only need to hold tightly to the truth I have now, today, this moment. He's asking nothing more of me than that.
My darling, I let fear have too much room in my life in recent months. I regret that lapse of faith more than I can say. I've feared that you wouldn't return to me from this war. I still fear it sometimes, and a letter like the one you wrote wrings tears from my heart. I want you, Richard. I want you as my husband for all of my life. I want your quiver to be full of children, too.
But I swear to you, darling, I will not let fear make me forget the truth that He's given me.
You asked me to forgive you if you die in Europe. Oh, my beloved, my tears make it hard to see this page. How do I answer that? I would forgive you anything. I would forgive you even that. But I pray God won't ask it of me. I would forgive, but could I live?
And that's when I must face God's sovereignty once again, isn't it? You will not die if it's God's will for you to live. The Nazi Luftwaffe cannot shoot you out of the sky apart from God allowing them to do so. "What purpose would it serve if that happened?" I ask. Is war His will? He is a God of love. How can it be? Why must evil remain a moment longer on this earth?
I don't know, but I will hold on to the Truth that I do know. I know Jesus and Him crucified. That's what I know. I know that God said we will have trials and heartaches and difficulties as long as we live on this mortal earth, but no matter what, He is worthy of my praise. He is God and I am not.
Here are two verses I found last night as I sought refuge in His Word.
Psalm 73 says: "My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart." Daniel 3 says: "The God whom we serve is able to save us. He will rescue us from your power, Your Majesty. But even if he doesn't, we want to make it clear, Your Majesty, that we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up."
There is more, of course. So much more.
Forgive me, my love, for this letter. My falling tears have stained the paper and caused the ink to run in places. And perhaps my words make no sense, for I have written quickly, pouring out whatever came to me without stopping to wonder if I should. My thoughts race and my heart weeps, and I long for you with every breath I take.
Richard, dearest, night has fallen and a nearly full moon is on the rise. It isn't the same full moon you sat beneath when you wrote the letter that lies on the table near my hand. Eddie's son is nearly a month old, and you and your squadron have flown more missions since you put that pen to paper. How many missions, I don't know. Even now, in the early predawn hours of England, you could be preparing to leave on another one. If so, I hope you know I'm praying for you. I'm asking God's protection for you. Nothing could stop me from nightly asking Jesus to spare you.
I, too, am selfish. I, too, want to grow old with you. I want to see your face wrinkled with age and your black hair turned white. I want to see you bouncing a grandchild on your knee. Or even two or three grandchildren. I want to listen as you repeat one more time the stories of when you fought in the war.
I love you, Richard. No matter what happens, I will love you always. And no matter what, I have set my heart to praise the Lord. Those two things I know to be true. Those two.
You're always in my heart,
Lucy
Chapter 53
Margo set her purchases from Payless Drugstore on the kitchen table: four rolls of Safetex toilet tissue, fifteen cents; four bars of Woodbury's facial soap, twenty-five cents; a package of stationery and envelopes, nineteen cents; and a roll of Diamond wax paper, fifteen cents. Oh, how quickly her weekly salary disappeared. Twelve dollars didn't stretch as far as it used to, not with higher prices due to the war and the 5 percent Victory Tax that was withheld from her paycheck each week. It would soon get worse, with the enactment of Congress's income tax plan.
Somewhere in the New Testament, Paul wrote that he'd learned to be content with much and with little. Margo suspected it was easier to be content with much, but she was vastly more experienced with the little.
Sighing, she walked down the hall to her bedroom to change from her work clothes. The house was quiet tonight. Greg and Dottie were having supper with friends and afterward they were going to a movie.
Greg at a movie? Why? Imagine someone paying forty cents to go to something he couldn't see. Now there was a waste of good money. But when she'd said as much to Dottie, her daughter explained that Greg wanted to feel normal.
Maybe there's something to that, Margo thought as she kicked off her shoes near the chest of drawers.
She unbuttoned the tailored top of her summer suit, then unfastened the clasp and lowered the zipper of the matching skirt. After hanging the suit in her closet, she donned a cotton blouse, a pair of slacks, and her old, very comfy house slippers, and returned to the kitchen.
A glass of iced tea was her first priority. She even sweetened it with a little of their precious sugar supply. After taking a sip, she released a sigh of pleasure as she carried the glass onto the back porch, where she settled onto a padded chair.
She felt bone weary. There had been so much bad news lately, coming in waves. Four more families at church had lost sons or grandsons overseas. And an unusually large number of airmen who'd trained at Gowen Field were shot down in recent weeks.
The bad news didn't come only from the front lines.
Race riots had erupted in Detroit this past Sunday. The news reports said the influx of some three hundred thousand people—whites and blacks—to work in the war plants led to the violence. By Tuesday, thirty-five people were dead and another five hundred injured. And Detroit's wasn't the first riot. The same thing had happened in Mobile, Alabama, in May and in Los Angeles, California, and Beaumont, Texas, earlier this month.
"Father, send us peace." Margo stared toward the sky through the lacy tree branches that sheltered the backyard. "Peace in Europe. Peace in Asia. Peace here at home."
She took another sip of iced tea, then leaned her head against the high back of the chair and closed her eyes. It was warm but not uncomfortably so. The quiet of the neighborhood was soothing after the busyness of her day. For a time, she thought of nothing. But eventually, her mind wandered back to her prayer for peace.
"Why do You tarry, Lord?"
With so many of God's children praying for peace—faithfully praying, without ceasing—why didn't He end this bloody conflict and let the young men and women of America come home? Why did any more have to die? Why didn't God stomp out evil once and for all? Why couldn't there be peace on earth and goodwill toward men?
These things I plan won't happen right away.
Margo's heart quickened. She opened her eyes, half expecting to find someone with her on the back porch.
Slowly, steadily, surely, the time approaches when the vision will be fulfilled. If it seems slow in coming, wait patiently, for it will surely take place. It will not be delayed.
The Shepherd's voice. She knew it and found reassurance as it washed over her. God had a plan. His plan was in place from the foundation of the earth. It was His vision, and it would be fulfilled. She believed that with every fiber of her being. Even if it didn't fit her timing … or her plans.
"But it does seem slow, Lord," she whispered, glancing upward again, "and it's h
ard to be patient. Sometimes it feels like You've looked away and are missing what's happening on earth. I'm in a hurry for peace in our time. How long must we wait?"
A wry smile curved her lips. She sounded like King David: "O LORD, how long will you forget me? … How long will my enemy have the upper hand? … How long, O LORD, will you look on and do nothing? … O LORD, how long will this go on? Will you hide yourself forever?"
It seemed to Margo that the ancient king of Israel whined and complained a great deal about his lot in life, but she noted something else, too. David, a man after God's own heart, might begin a psalm in moaning, but he ended in praise and expressions of trust in the God of his salvation.
"I want to be like that, Lord." She closed her eyes a second time, allowing calm to settle over her. "Let me be open and honest with my feelings, but help me always end in words of praise and trust in You."
Chapter 54
The Idaho Daily Statesman
Boise, Idaho
Wednesday Morning
June 23, 1943
Flying Fortresses
Set Huge Fire
in Nazi Rubber Center
LONDON (AP) — Formations of R.A.F. heavy bombers thundered over the southeast coast toward the continent early today after American Flying Fortresses, completing round-the-clock smashes on the German Ruhr for the first time, kindled a square mile of blazes that raged through the German synthetic rubber town of Huls Tuesday … But the raids took a heavy toll—20 U.S. Bombers and four fighters Tuesday and 44 British bombers and one fighter Monday night …
* * *
The Idaho Daily Statesman
Boise, Idaho
Thursday Morning
June 24, 1943
Italy Writhes Under
Smashing Air Attacks
While Crushing of Ruhr
ALLIED HEADQUARTERS, North Africa (U.P.) — For the fourth time in 24 hours. Allied bombers have lashed the Neapolitan industrial area, striking at railway targets around Salerno while fires from earlier raids still smoldered amid the gaping ruins of war works in Naples itself, it was announced Wednesday … It began Sunday night with a Wellington blockbuster raid serving as "interference" for two waves of American Flying Fortresses, totaling 100 planes, which plastered military targets in the heart of Naples and at nearby Cancello by daylight …
* * *
The Idaho Daily Statesman
Boise, Idaho
Monday Morning
July 5, 1943
Fortresses Pick Targets Over France
LONDON (AP) — The R.A.F. rocked the already devastated city of Cologne for 45 minutes Saturday night and also pounded Hamburg, while large formations of American Flying Fortresses took over the daylight offensive Sunday by laying a destructive bomb pattern across three important Axis targets—Nantes, Le Mans and La Pallice in France. The co-ordinated sky assaults cost the R.A.F. 32 planes and the U.S. air force eight Fortresses …
* * *
The Idaho Daily Statesman
Boise, Idaho
Saturday Morning
July 10, 1943
Fliers Clear Landing Path
By Associated Press — Countless bombings of key cities, airfields and fortifications softened Sicily for the assault which carried Allied troops to the front door of the Italian mainland early today …
* * *
The Idaho Daily Statesman
Boise, Idaho
Monday Morning
July 19, 1943
500 Bombers Blast,
Burn Italian Port
ALLIED HEADQUARTERS in North Africa (AP) — More than 500 Allied bombers blasted the vital Italian port of Naples from dawn to dusk Saturday in the most shattering aerial attack ever carried out in the Mediterranean war theater … Four-engined Flying Fortresses followed the night-flying Wellingtons over Naples to open the mammoth daylight assault …
* * *
The Idaho Daily Statesman
Boise, Idaho
Tuesday Morning
July 20, 1943
Fortresses Lead Way Along Tiber
ALLIED HEADQUARTERS in North Africa (AP) — Special trained American precision airmen dropped hundreds of tons of bombs on rail and airfield installations at Rome Monday in the first attack of the war on the Eternal City. The first "bombs away" call of Flying Fortress bombardiers came at 11:13 a.m. (5:13 a.m. EWT). Leaflets first were dropped, advising the inhabitants why certain sections of the city were military objectives. Tons of explosives then smashed the San Lorenzo railway yards four miles east of Vatican City.
Part VI
August 1943
Western Union
1943 AUG 6
MRS LUCY ANDERSON=
** 1602 JEFFERSON ST BOISE, ID=
THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS HIS DEEP REGRET THAT YOU HUSBAND FIRST LIEUTENANT RICHARD L ANDERSON HAS BEEN REPORTED MISSING IN ACTION SINCE NINETEEN JULY OVER ITALY IF FURTHER DETAILS OR OTHER INFORMATION IS RECEIVED YOU WILL BE PROMPTLY NOTIFIED=
M. R. JOHNSON ACTING THE ADJUTANT GENERAL
Chapter 55
There was a slight whirring sound in Lucy's ears as she lifted her gaze from the telegram in her hand to the uniformed woman standing on the stoop.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Anderson," the stranger said softly. She seemed poised beyond her years, and her eyes and voice were filled with compassion.
How many such telegrams had this girl delivered? That's all she was, really. A girl. No more than nineteen or twenty years old. Had she delivered ten? Thirty? One hundred? More? Did it get easier with each one? Or did she dread going to work in the morning?
"If there's anything—" the young woman began.
Lucy closed the door and turned her back to it.
Mere minutes before, she'd been preparing her supper when she heard the knock on the door. Now the precious, hard-to-come-by meat was scorching in the skillet. Smoke filled the kitchen, stinging her eyes and throat. She should turn off the burner. She knew she should, but she couldn't make her feet move. She stood there, frozen in place, her body numb, her heart growing cold.
Missing in action.
"No."
She wouldn't accept it. It wasn't true. She wouldn't let it be true. She would will it away. Refuse it. She would make herself awaken from this nightmare.
Missing in action.
She recalled the April day when she and others painted the Hinkle house. She remembered the look on Dottie's face when she learned Greg had been wounded in Africa. She remembered returning to this apartment and weeping, afraid something would happen to Richard.
And now something had happened to Richard.
Something worse.
Missing in action …
Missing in action since nineteen July …
Missing in action since nineteen July over Italy …
"No. No, it can't be true." She looked toward the ceiling and shouted, "Don't let it be true!"
V-Mail
To: 1st Lt. Richard Anderson, APO, N.Y.P.E.
From: Lucy Anderson
Saturday, August 7, 1943
Richard darling,
Where are you? I cannot sleep, and so I write this in the wee hours of the morning. Where are you?
"Missing in action," the telegram says.
What does that mean?
You were over Italy when your plane went down, and you are missing Are you a prisoner of war? Or did you manage to escape capture? Did some kindly Italian woman put you in her barn or attic to hide you from the enemy? Are you alone or with others of your crew? Were you injured? Are you in pain? Would I feel it in my heart if you were dead?
I like to think I would feel the absence of your life at the exact moment it left your body. But I don't feel it. Does that mean you're alive?
Richard, you cannot be dead. You cannot be. Don't be dead, Richard. Live. Wherever you are, live. Live for me.
Lucy
Chapter 56
Lucy?" Dottie rapped on the door again, Greg standing bes
ide her on the stoop. "Lucy, are you in there? Please let us in." She glanced over her shoulder at her mother. "Do you think she went out?"
Margo shook her head. "No. She's in there. I'm certain of it. Keep knocking."
Dottie did as her mother said, striking the door harder this time. "Lucy, please open up."
At last she saw the flutter of the curtain at the window. Then she heard the click of the lock a second before the door creaked open. Lucy, clad in her pajamas, turned and headed back to the living room without a word to acknowledge her visitors.
Holding Greg's hand, Dottie drew him into the apartment, her mother following right behind.
"How did you find out?" Lucy sank onto an overstuffed chair and drew her knees to her chest, clutching them with her arms.
"Mrs. Hilburn. She saw the woman delivering the telegram yesterday, and she called Mother this morning." Dottie didn't have to explain further. Everyone knew wartime telegrams rarely brought good news. "What did it say?"
The Victory Club Page 19