A Quiet Strength

by Janette Oke

  “Did you?”

  “No, I couldn’t. I was scared. I thought the fire was gonna get me.”

  “But the fire was way out on the other side of the corrals.”

  “That’s where it was before. But it might come here.”

  So Mindy had had a nightmare concerning yesterday’s fire. Virginia had not heard her during the night. She slept more soundly than she had supposed. Jonathan must have been up with her. She wondered how long his rest was interrupted before the child was able to go back to sleep. And now he was up again. It likely had been a rather short night for Jonathan.

  Virginia nodded a good-morning to Grandmother Withers and passed on through to the kitchen. She had to get breakfast on the table. Jonathan would soon be in from chores.

  Jonathan was later than usual. By the time he came in, Martha was awake and insisting on being fed. Mindy, too, was whining, saying her tummy hurt. Virginia wondered if Grandmother Withers would start in next. She hurried to get the bedridden woman’s breakfast in to her, then on the table for the rest of the family.

  When Jonathan finally arrived, he looked as though he had already worked a long day. Neither seemed much in the mood for conversation, and they ate their meal in silence. Jonathan was starting to rise from the table when he looked across at Virginia. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began, his voice even and controlled. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do. It’ll take time to work it out, so I have to ask for your patience.”

  And then he rose and left, his face blank and unreadable.

  Now you are being reasonable, Virginia’s heart cried. But a sadness tugged at her, as well. Rather than feeling triumph over winning, she felt a little sick inside. She knew that this was not what Jonathan would choose to do. She knew how much the horses meant to him, this enterprise in which he had invested so much time and care. She felt this was the only option open to the family, but if she could express her empathy for the deep hurt she knew he was feeling, it would be so much easier. In his eyes he had failed his family. In his eyes … But her tongue wouldn’t move, and her throat felt parched. She said nothing, only stared at the closed door. Then she buried her face in Martha’s soft blankets and wept.

  But what else could they do? They could not pile up debt. The lost foal of the year before, the lost sale of Cinnamon, now the fire that took all the feed except what was in the barn loft—any one loss, they might have survived, but they had such a slim margin that the combination of the three was too much. Wasn’t it?

  Maybe they could sell off part of the stock. Maybe cut the size of the herd down to half the brood mares. But even Virginia, who knew only a little about raising animals, realized it would take a long, long time to build the herd up again. In the meantime, there would not be enough profit to sustain them. Jonathan had carefully worked out his plan. He knew just how many animals he had to have in the stalls, how many he would need to sell each spring. How much he would need to set aside each year for other expenses. Jonathan had all the figures in the book that he kept in the desk drawer. The precarious balance of accounts had already been destroyed. Jonathan had not counted on so many setbacks in such quick succession.

  Virginia went about the tasks of her day with a heavy heart. So much so that small Mindy asked midmorning, “Mama, are you scared of the fire, too?” Virginia could only nod. Yes. Yes, she was scared of the fire. Scared of what it would do to the family.

  In the afternoon, Grandmother Withers and Mindy both took naps, and thankfully, small Martha joined them, leaving Virginia free to get to some long overdue household tasks.

  She was rinsing the new butter that lay in a golden lump at the bottom of the churn when there was a knock on the door.

  “Who on earth …?” But before she could even complete her thought the door opened and there stood Jenny.

  Virginia blinked, unable to believe her eyes. The next moment a surprising thought flashed through her mind: Well, at least you will be able to take care of your child now. But her immediate inner response was that Mindy was no longer Jenny’s. She had forfeited her right to the child. Mindy was theirs now. Hers and Jonathan’s. They could not give her up. Surely Jenny would not ask them to. Surely not. Certainly they were still struggling. Still trying to work through Mindy’s problems. But they were hopeful. They—

  “Jenny,” said Virginia, interrupting her own internal dialogue. Her voice sounded flat to her ears. “Come in.” “I’m in,” replied Jenny with no apology.

  Virginia found herself wondering if Mindy had awakened. How would she respond to her mother? In jubilation? With shyness? Fear? Virginia had no way of knowing.

  Virginia did not know what to say, so she stood, butter churn still in her hands, mouth half-open.

  “Guess you’re a little surprised?” said Jenny.

  Virginia finally was able to move. She crossed to the cupboard and set the churn near the water pail. “Yes,” she managed. “Yes, I guess I am.”

  “I don’t blame you. It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes. It has.” Virginia removed the lid from the churn and poured the fresh buttermilk into a pitcher. Then she dipped cold water from the pail and poured it over the yellow ball of soft butter and began to work out the buttermilk with a spoon, turning it over and over, pressing, squeezing. She poured the used water into the slop bucket and put on fresh to begin the process all over again.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” she said over her shoulder. “ThenI’ll fix coffee. Take off your wraps and have a chair.”

  Jenny removed her coat and tossed it over a kitchen chair.

  “How did you come?”

  “ The train. Then I caught a ride with a neighbor who dropped me off here.”

  Silence.

  “How’s Mindy?”

  “She’s … she’s really grown.”

  “Good.”

  Silence again.

  “How’s Hayden?”

  There was no response for such a long time that Virginia looked up from kneading the butter. Jenny sat, head in hands, looking pale and worn. “Trouble again?” asked Virginia candidly but with sympathy.

  Jenny nodded.

  Virginia set aside the butter without working in the salt and went to put on the coffeepot. Jenny needed its warmth—for body and soul.

  “Do you want to talk?” asked Virginia, wiping her hands on her apron as she moved to the table and took a chair opposite Jenny.

  Jenny looked up. She blinked back her tears and shook her head with determination. “It worked for a while.”

  “Then?”

  “He … he sort of … came and went. This time he says he’s gone for good. He’s asking for … a divorce.”

  “You’re going to give him one?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. I still … He’s everything I ever wanted, Virginia. Everything.”

  Then you have set your sights awfully low, Virginia wanted to say, but she did not.

  “So I’ve come to you,” went on Jenny with a forced laugh. “Run back to good old Virginia whenever you need a favor.”

  “A favor?”

  Jenny flushed. At least she has that much decency, thought Virginia. She can blush about using me.

  Jenny nodded. “Just this once.”

  “And that favor is?” prompted Virginia when Jenny did not go on.

  Jenny’s flush deepened. She toyed with the rings on her fingers, seeming embarrassed to speak. At last she took a deep breath. “Well … you know how you are always saying that … that God answers prayer.”

  Virginia’s heart skipped. Was Jenny finally at the point where she was willing to turn to God? Virginia could feel her eyes begin to moisten. She nodded. “He does,” she said softly.

  “Well I—I want to ask you to pray for me.”

  Oh, Jenny. You don’t know how I’ve prayed to hear you speak those words, cried Virginia’s heart.

  Jenny went on, “I want you to pray that God will bring Hayden back.” />
  Virginia was dumbstruck.

  “What? What do you want me to pray?”

  “I need him, Virginia. I really do!”

  Virginia felt sick at heart. She managed to move from her chair and go to the stove to slide back the boiling coffeepot.

  “Will you?” prompted Jenny.

  Virginia shook her head. “I don’t know, Jenny. It’s …”

  “You always said that He answers. You—”

  “He does,” Virginia interrupted.

  “But He won’t do this. Not for me. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I don’t know. What—”

  “Because I’m a sinner?” pressed Jenny. “Is that why He won’t answer my prayer? I’m not praying, Virginia. You’re praying. You’re not a sinner. He’d answer you. That’s why I came. I tried it. Honestly. I tried to pray, but He wouldn’t answer me.”

  Virginia looked up from pouring the two cups of coffee.

  She was still shaking her head. She still felt weak and pale. “Would you?” she asked frankly.

  Jenny looked puzzled.

  “If you were God? Would you answer a prayer like that?”

  Jenny remained silent.

  “Would you give a person this kind of request, knowing full well that she would just use prayer to get what she wanted and then turn her back on you again?”

  “Well … I …”

  “That’s what you intend to do, isn’t it, Jenny? You want God to bring Hayden back. Back to you so the two of you can continue on as you left off. Living a life that leaves God out. Doing exactly what you want to do. Ignoring your conscience. Is that what you plan?”

  Jenny tossed her tangled curls of fading red hair and shot Virginia a look of total contempt. “I guess I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life, Virginia.”

  She rose from the chair and crossed to the window, her back stiff with anger.

  For a moment Virginia wished she had not spoken so bluntly. It had accomplished nothing except to make Jenny upset with her. Virginia was always saying the wrong thing. If only she could take back her words. Jenny would never be won.

  Suddenly Jenny whirled around. “Okay. So you’re right. I wouldn’t change my life. I don’t want to change my life. If I did … I’d just lose Hayden all over again. And I like my life … most of the time. If Hayden would come back, I’d be happy. At least I would be happier than I am now. But if your God … if He’s unwilling to help a person who’s down … then I don’t know if I want anything to do with Him anyway. Who needs Him?”

  “I do,” said Virginia with emphasis. “I do. And He does help a person who’s down. All the time. We all have our down times, Jenny. God has never failed me at such a time. But He’s not there to be used at our own whim or fancy for our own purposes. That’s not God. That would be a … a wish fairy, a year-round Santa Claus.”

  “Then I …”

  “God is far more interested in your spiritual being than your state of happiness. He wants your life to be much more than a continual party with a hangover in the morning.”

  Jenny was trembling as she moved back to the chair at the table. Virginia did not know if it was from anger, disappointment, or conviction.

  Virginia carried the two cups of coffee to the table and put them down. She took the chair opposite her longtime friend and reached for Jenny’s hand.

  “Oh, Jenny, if you only could understand how good life can really be.”

  Jenny’s head jerked up. “That’s easy for you to say. You were raised in a real home. Your mother didn’t run away. Your father didn’t come home drunk. Well, mine did and I can’t change that. I’ve been trapped by it. All my life I’ve had to live with it. Can’t you see that, Virginia? I am what I am because that is what life has made me. I can’t change that. I’ve had no choice.”

  “ That’s where you’re wrong. As long as there’s a God, there’s a choice. Think about it, Jenny. He created us, and one of the things He placed inside us is free choice. He will not let that be taken from us. Not by life, not by others. Not by Satan himself. He has given us choice. It’s a wonderful gift. Think about it. No matter what life hands us, we still have choice.

  “Oh, we can’t always choose our circumstances—and I admit that yours have been unfair and cruel—but we can choose our response to them. We can choose.”

  “It’s too late now. I’m … I’ve already made my choices. I’m trapped now. I can’t change. What’s done is done.”

  “You’re wrong, Jenny. You still have a choice—even now. You can listen to your heart and ask for God’s forgiveness—let Him change you. Or you can choose to go on, caught in the power of your habits and your sin. You still have that choice. That power has been given to you. No one—listen to me—no one can ever say, ‘It’s beyond my power to choose.’ They might feel that way, but even that statement makes a choice. They are giving in when they could be reaching out and letting God give them freedom.”

  Jenny looked agitated. She pulled her hand away from Virginia and wiped a wrist across her eyes. “It’s too late.”

  “It’s only too late if you decide it’s too late,” insisted Virginia. “You choose.”

  “I couldn’t do it on my own.”

  “He’s not asking you to. He’ll be there for you.”

  Jenny shook her head. “Why do you always manage to get me in such a mess, Virginia?” she asked almost crossly. “I came here looking for help, and all you give me is a lecture.”

  “If you could only see the help that is available,” said Virginia. “But I can’t make that decision for you. How I wish I could, but the choice is yours.”

  “I’ll … think about it.”

  This was not what Virginia had hoped for, but at least it was a start. It was the first time Jenny had ever promised to give any kind of consideration to the need of her soul.

  Jenny stayed with them for three days. In all that time Mindy ignored her. And Jenny did not try to make up to the little girl. Virginia did not know if she was sad or glad at the lack of interchange between the two.

  “Do you want to tell Mindy that you are her real mama?” she had asked Jenny as they sat before the fire on the first evening. Mindy had already been tucked in for the night.

  Jenny had looked up. She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think that would be true,” she said at last. Then, “From what I’ve seen, you are her real mama. I just gave her birth.”

  Virginia felt tears burning her eyes.

  “She has changed,” went on Jenny. “You’ve been good for her, Virginia. You and Jonathan. I think it’s best to leave things that way. It would only stir things up if we were to talk about me as her mama. Perhaps when she’s older. We’ll see.”

  So they had left it. Mindy did not ask questions concerning Jenny, and no one volunteered the information.

  On the third day, Jenny packed her case and asked Jonathan for a ride to town. It nearly broke Virginia’s heart. She was filled with sadness that Jenny was choosing the wrong way again.

  “You promised to think about what I said,” she reminded Jenny as she gave her a good-bye embrace.

  Jenny nodded, and then she was gone.

  CHAPTER 16

  Virginia could not sleep that night. She went over and over her conversations with Jenny. Two things troubled her: Jenny’s refusal to see that there was hope and freedom in accepting God’s forgiveness and deliverance from her bondage, and then her own words, which spoke truth to her heart. She thoroughly believed all that she had said to Jenny. Yet why was she unable to live it? We have choices, she had explained to her old friend, not always over our circumstances but over our attitude toward them. Yet here she was locked in despair and depression over her own situation. Virginia knew that it didn’t make sense. Either she believed what she said, or she did not. And if she believed it, she ought to be able to live it.

  On through the night hours she struggled. She would have left her bed and gone downstairs to pray, but she was afraid
she would disturb Grandmother Withers. So she stayed where she was, hoping her restlessness did not bother Jonathan.

  Tears dampened her pillow. She was a hypocrite. She had told Jenny that God was there. That He helped her through times of trial. That there was always hope, for there was always choice. God did not allow that to be taken away. And where there was choice, one could reach out, could go beyond the bonds of circumstance, could find a way of escape from the temptation of accepting defeat. She wasn’t the first person in the world to have a difficult lot. Nor would she be the last. They weren’t the first couple ever to face economic hardship. Yet here she was wallowing in self-pity. Angry with Jonathan for things beyond his control. Resentful of a grandmother for breaking her leg and causing more stress on an already burdened household. It was ridiculous—her behavior, her attitude. Why did she strike out at those she loved? Let bitterness gnaw away at her soul? She knew better. She knew she had chosen foolishly. She was creating much of her own trouble.

  Virginia could stand it no longer. She slipped from her bed and knelt on the rag rug. With tears of repentance she began to pray. The night air was cold and she shivered against the chill, but she scarcely noticed. She was far too intense in making peace with her God.

  As she prayed, her heavy burden lifted. She would not give in to despair again. There was a way out of their present situation. God was faithful. Perhaps it would indeed mean leaving the farm, but she would no longer try to manipulate things her way. She and Jonathan together would work through what to do. She would tell him first thing in the morning that she would stop her stewing and fretting and leave the final decision with him and with God.

  Virginia rose from her kneeling position. But before she went back to bed, she crossed the hallway and entered Mindy’s room. Again she knelt. “God, this is your child. I give her to you in a new way tonight. Give me love and patience and understanding … and wisdom, Lord. I need wisdom. But help me to remember that you are even more concerned about this little one than I am. You lead her, Lord. You work in her little heart and soul to free her of her past and lead her into a bright future full of promise and right choices. Help me not to fret and stew and confine her to the person that I think she should be but give you the freedom to work in her life.”