by Janette Oke
The new congregation continued to meet together in the schoolhouse, but Anna knew Austin longed for the day when they would have their own little church building.
“It will be difficult for us to really feel we are a real congregation—members of the Body—until we have our own gathering place,” he often told Anna, and Anna nodded, willing to accept his assessment.
He repeated this statement one evening as Anna sat mending worn socks by the light of the kerosene lamp. Austin had been studying at the kitchen table nearby but rose to his feet, pacing back and forth from the window to the chair where Anna sat. She knew he was agitated, but she waited until he was ready to express his feelings. Her needle continued to ply in and out of the wool stocking.
“We need a church,” he said at last as he ran his hand through his heavy dark hair and let his fingers rest on the back of his neck.
Anna waited a moment, then said quietly, “We have a church, Austin.”
He looked at her a moment, then smiled a bit sheepishly as she went on, “But our church does need a place of its own to meet.”
Austin nodded, then said, “But we are so few, with so little. We’ll never manage it.”
“Remember the loaves and fishes,” Anna commented, tipping her head slightly.
Austin chuckled. “The loaves and fishes. I wasn’t planning to feed them, Anna. Just provide them with a place to worship.”
“That’s feeding,” Anna said seriously, not backing down. “Remember what Christ said to Peter, ‘Feed my sheep.’ What you intend is spiritual feeding—and that is even more important than the physical feeding.”
Austin’s chuckle died away and his face too became serious.
“You’re good for me—you know that?” he said with feeling, and he bent and kissed Anna on the top of her head.
Anna continued to mend.
Austin took up his pacing again, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
“So how do we get our hands on these loaves and fishes?” he said, wheeling to face her.
In the short while that they had been married, Anna had come to realize that it was difficult for Austin to be patient. She sensed the agitation in him now—and she admired it because she knew the reason for it. She knew his eagerness to be fruitful in his ministry. She knew how difficult it was to wait for something that he felt was so important to his people. She fervently wished that she had a ready solution. But she continued to sew, calmly, serenely, as she pondered carefully his question.
At last she raised her eyes. “In the case of the loaves and fishes—they were brought to Him,” she said evenly.
“Are you saying—?”
“In other instances, people were told to ‘go and do.’ ”
“So?” said Austin, giving his shoulders an impatient shrug. “Are we to ‘go and do’ or sit idly by and—?”
“We don’t know that yet, do we?” said Anna placidly.
“So we just—?”
“Pray,” filled in Anna. “Pray for direction and ask our little congregation to pray with us.”
For a moment Austin’s frown deepened. He began to pace again.
Anna laid aside a finished sock and reached for another one.
“You think we should share this with the people?” he wondered.
Anna nodded.
“You think they will understand the necessity for a church?”
“It is their church.”
Austin paced a few more steps and swung to face her. Slowly a smile began to spread across his face. He ran his hand through his hair again and rubbed at the back of his neck.
“I’ve been thinking it’s mine, haven’t I?”
“Have you?” said Anna, raising wide eyes to his.
“You know I have,” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek, but there was lightness in his voice again.
“Actually, my statement was just as wrong,” conceded Anna. “It really won’t belong to the congregation either. This is God’s church.”
Austin nodded his head.
“So . . .” he said at last. “If He thinks that a building is needed, I guess He can come up with the loaves and fishes. Right?”
Anna smiled softly. “He might ask us to be involved—a little bit,” she answered. “He did use the lad—and He did put His disciples to work.”
Austin nodded again. The strain had left his face. He crossed the short distance that separated them and knelt by her side, reaching for the hand that held the woolen sock.
“This is going to be tough for me,” he admitted. “I never was long on patience.”
“Yes, I noticed,” Anna teased and squeezed his hand.
Austin smiled and went on. “Promise me you will—will try to hold me in check. I need you, Anna. I need to—to borrow from your strength—your—your wisdom and patience.”
Anna released her needle and thread and ran the fingers of her hand through his hair. She couldn’t understand how strong and able Austin could be seeking to draw from her meager strength—but she knew she would be there for him to the best of her ability.
Though she loved her new life as Austin’s wife, Anna missed her family even more than she had prepared herself for. Her thoughts were continually going back to the farm kitchen where she knew her mother would be bent over a steaming ironing board or a hot kitchen stove. How was she managing to do all of the work alone? It had kept both of them busy from sun-up to sun-down—and even then they often got behind.
She hoped that the growing boys were giving some assistance, but she knew her pa counted on Adam and Horace to help him in the fields. And Will and Alfred were needed for all of the farm chores. That left only Karl and Petey. They were still too young to be given much responsibility.
At times Anna felt overwhelmed by guilt and concern. Had she done the right thing to leave her mother? Wasn’t one to honor one’s parents?
Yet both her father and mother had seemed to feel that she was doing right in accepting Austin’s proposal—both had seemed proud to have their daughter join a man of the cloth.
Anna felt such confusion.
But even as she struggled to try to sort things out in her thinking, she knew if she had stayed at home, had said no to Austin, that she would have been devastated. Now she couldn’t imagine life without him. She loved him with all of her being. She ached to sustain him, to support him, to be helpmate and companion. And yet she felt so inadequate.
Surely the people expected more from a minister’s wife than she would ever be able to give. They were so kind—and so pleasant. But right now they had no church building, no organ, no room for Sunday school classes. When they did have their own place, had a real church service, then they would expect the minister’s wife to take some leadership. Perhaps play the organ, teach classes, organize a woman’s sewing circle.
Anna could not play a note. Had never had her hands on a keyboard. She had never taught Sunday school and had little confidence in her ability as a teacher. And she certainly had never been involved in a sewing circle except to sit in a corner with two or three other children and listen to the ladies talk of local prayer needs when her mama took her along. No, Anna was certainly not in a position to be of much help to Austin in his ministry—and the actuality of a real church building would serve only to draw it to everyone’s attention.
Chapter Nine
Calling
The next Sunday after he had completed his sermon, Austin talked with the congregation about his desire to see them have their own place of worship.
“It doesn’t need to be a fancy building,” he told them, “but a place that is dedicated strictly to the worship of the Lord. A place where we can have Sunday school classes and Wednesday night prayer meetings. A place our children will view as God’s house—not the schoolhouse. A place where someone can slip in during the stress of the week and kneel at the altar and talk things over with God. A place where we as God’s people can meet with Him.”
He paused and looked at his small flock.<
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“We need to pray for God’s direction,” Austin went on. For one quick moment he glanced toward Anna and their eyes met.
“We do not want to rush ahead of Him. Not that we could. We do not have the finances—the wherewithal—to do this task on our own. We must have the Lord’s help.
“I’m asking you all to pray. Pray for guidance and direction—and you might ask for a miracle or two.” Austin stopped to smile at his people. “It is going to take more than one miracle if this is to be accomplished.”
Anna felt that his appeal was effective and she knew, because she knew the man, that it was sincere and came from his heart.
The people seemed hesitant to leave after the service. Anna heard excited murmurs on all sides. The idea had caught fire, but the cluster of people buzzing around her seemed to be no nearer a solution to the problem than she or Austin.
In spite of the excitement generated, they left the church with their problem unresolved.
Anna was thoughtful as she walked the boardwalk to their little home down the street. Austin had asked for a few minutes alone. Anna knew he wanted to get started in seeking God’s direction.
Dinner, stew again, was already simmering on the back of the stove, so Anna had little to do to get the meal ready. She wished she could serve fried chicken now and then—or a small piece of roast beef. Then she chided herself for her ingratitude. She should be thankful for the stew. The vegetables had come from the local store. There wasn’t much for variety. And stew was as far as she could make their weekly offerings stretch. Yet they had never gone without.
Help me to be thankful, Father, she prayed in contrition.
But she couldn’t help but wonder if Austin was as tired of stew and soup as she was.
If only I had a garden, she mourned. I could raise my own vegetables. Then I could use the offerings on something else . . . perhaps a bit of meat now and then, or—
“Yoo-hoo!” A shout from across the street interrupted her thoughts.
Old Mrs. Paxton stood waving her cane to attract Anna’s attention. Mrs. Paxton did not attend the church services in the schoolhouse. She was a crotchety, sour woman with a sharp tongue and a mean stick. She used both on local youngsters or bothersome dogs whenever they came within reach.
Anna crossed the street, realizing that it was much easier for her than for the elderly woman to walk the rutted road.
“Hear you’re planning on a new church.” The woman’s words assailed Anna before she had even reached the sidewalk.
Anna nodded, her smile fading slightly, wondering how the news had traveled so quickly.
“We are praying about it,” she said evenly.
“Too uppity for the schoolhouse, I take it,” the woman accused.
Anna wished that she could have ignored the call and had not bothered to cross the street.
“No, not too uppity at all,” she answered as courteously as she could. “We just feel it would be better for the people—for the children—if we had our own building so that we could—could have Sunday school classes and—”
“Went to Sunday school when I was a child,” the woman hissed. “Never helped me any.”
“I’m sorry,” whispered Anna.
“Sorry? Sorry for what? That those Bible myths told in Sunday school don’t make a bit of sense? That this—this farfetched tale of a God is all a hoax? He doesn’t exist any more than—than the Blue Fairy does. All this church business is just a way to pad some man’s pocket.”
Anna’s temper rose a bit as she thought of another dinner of vegetable stew. Pad a man’s pocket indeed! But she smiled again.
“I’m sorry—” she began again, her eyes searching the face of the poor angry and bitter woman before her.
To her surprise, Anna’s anger had changed to an attitude of love and pity. Her soft words only seemed to make the woman angrier.
Mrs. Paxton raised her cane and for one instance Anna found herself flinching and bracing for the blow.
The cane lowered again and the woman tapped the ground with all of her force.
“God took everything I had,” she spat out. “Everything. My husband. My children. Everything.”
There was a moment of strained silence. Anna began again in a soft yet firm voice. “But that’s impossible,” she said.
“Impossible? I suppose you’re going to tell me that your loving God would never let bad things happen. That—”
“No,” said Anna, shaking her head. “No, I won’t tell you that. But if He doesn’t exist, how could He possibly do all of those horrid things?”
Wide blue eyes clashed with angry brown ones. Anna held her ground. She could see the intense anger that burned in the soul of the woman as her face flushed, her body trembled. The cane in her hand rose slightly, then fell back to the ground. Without another word to Anna, she turned and hobbled as quickly as she could toward her swinging gate. Anna did not watch her go. She closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip.
Oh, Father, she prayed earnestly, did I say the wrong thing? I had wanted so to help her—but now—now I have made an enemy. Forgive me, Father. Show me what to do.
Anna heard the gate shut with an angry bang. Then the cane rapped its way up the wooden walk.
Anna started back across the street with a heavy, guilty heart. Austin would soon be home for dinner. She had to dish up the stew and tell him about Mrs. Paxton.
The only thing that brought them a change of diet was the “calling.” Every Wednesday for sure, and often on other days when there was a special need in a home, Austin hooked the mare to the buggy and they made a call. They were usually offered a meal, sometimes both dinner and supper at two different homes. At the least, they were served tea.
Anna welcomed those times, more for Austin’s sake than her own. She almost envied the farm women who had fresh eggs and milk to cook with. What a difference it would make to their diet if she had access to farm products.
One day Austin came beaming into the kitchen.
“Guess what?” he said to Anna. “I met a new man in the store today. Mr. Parks introduced us. Told the man I was the new preacher. At first he seemed a bit distant, but we talked about the weather and the crops and such things, and when he was about to leave he said, ‘Say, Parson, I’m not really that interested in your church, but my wife sure likes to have lady company. Why don’t you and your wife come on out for supper next week?’ I nearly dropped over, right then and there.”
“Oh, Austin,” said Anna, reaching her hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s wonderful.”
To that point, their efforts to encourage more people to join their congregation had been without success. Anna knew how important the new contact was to Austin.
“We set the night for Thursday,” went on Austin, his excitement showing in his eyes.
Baking day, thought practical Anna. I will need to get up earlier to get the bread out of the way.
They were both mildly anxious as the day approached. They so wanted to make this family feel accepted and interest them in spiritual things. Anna began her bread early that morning and had it baked by one o’clock. Then she washed and prepared herself for the journey. The Lawes lived a good way out of town, and it would take them more than an hour to make the drive.
Austin appeared in the kitchen doorway from the bedroom, his Sunday suit brushed and his tie carefully arranged.
“I was wondering,” said Anna thoughtfully, standing before him in her best house dress, “if—this time—since he says he isn’t interested in church—if we should go just—just as neighbors.”
Austin’s fingers paused in their fumbling with the cuff links of his white shirt.
“What do you mean?” he asked. Before she could answer he hastened to add, “You’d better get changed. We need to be going.”
“But that’s what I mean,” Anna said. “I have changed.”
Austin looked at her, his gaze traveling up and down her cotton dress.
“I’ve decided th
at this once I’m going to try something different. Instead of entering a farm kitchen so dressed up in my Sunday clothes that I can’t give a hand with the supper lest I get chicken fat on my dress, I’m going prepared to help.”
Austin looked dubious but Anna held her ground. “And I was wondering if maybe you should wear one of your—your older suits—or even a pair of work pants so you could—could go with the man to the barn—maybe fork a bit of hay to the cows—or—or carry a bucket of water to the pigs.”
Anna stopped and watched carefully for Austin’s reaction. He looked at her as if he thought she had lost her mind.
“But a pastor is supposed to be . . . a little different from the rest of his people. Set an example. There’s a standard that needs to be maintained. We represent the Lord. We were taught—”
“It was just a thought,” said Anna with a shrug of her shoulders. “I can change quickly while you get the buggy.”
But Austin stared at her for a moment, his face losing its doubtful expression. “It’s worth a try,” he said finally. “Nothing else has worked. We’ve called at almost every home in the community—and not one more person has been added to the church.” He nodded and said again, “It’s worth a try.”
Austin made haste to change from his Sunday suit.
“Is this all right?” he asked as he rejoined Anna in the kitchen.
Anna looked at him and smiled at his flannel shirt and carefully mended work pants. He hardly even looked like a pastor.
Then doubts began to assail her. Maybe this was a serious mistake. She wrapped a loaf of the fresh bread in a snowy white dish towel, praying inwardly that she wouldn’t spoil things for Austin. Oh, if only she were wiser about being a minister’s wife.
In spite of Anna’s second thoughts about her suggestion, the visit went well. Anna presented her loaf of fresh bread and moved easily into the kitchen to help with the supper preparations. Austin walked casually to the barn with the farmer, chatting comfortably about the livestock as they went. Anna, looking from the kitchen window, saw Austin slopping the pigs and forking hay. She smiled and prayed that God would give wisdom to both her and her husband.