A Quiet Strength

by Janette Oke

  When September arrived, with it came one of the most difficult adjustments Virginia had faced in her entire life. Mindy was off to the local schoolhouse to begin her days as a student. She looked so small. So vulnerable. So sweet. It made Virginia weep. This was her little girl. The shy one. The one who clung to her. And now she was going off to face the world. Alone. Well, not exactly alone. Jonathan and Virginia both walked with her on her first day, and one or the other continued to do so for the remainder of the first week. Then Mindy announced in quite grown-up fashion that she knew the way down the country road. She could walk the mile on her own, she explained, and would meet up with the Ellison kids from the next farm over. That brought another tear to Virginia’s eye.

  Every afternoon when she thought it time for Mindy to return, Martha pushed a straight-backed chair over to the kitchen window. She climbed up on her perch to be the first to announce her big sister’s appearance. Though she enjoyed the extra attention she received being the only child in the house for some period of each day, she loved Mindy and missed her during those hours of school.

  The change of seasons into autumn was so subtle it hardly was noticed. Still Damaris and Slate stayed on. There were frequent letters posted to and received from the West, and occasional phone calls made from town. But nothing was said to Virginia until one day when the two women were working a flower bed together, tucking plants in for the coming winter.

  “You must think I’m planning to stay forever,” Damaris began.

  Virginia looked up from the rose she was trimming back. “

  It’s been wonderful having you,” she said simply.

  Damaris continued to heap mulch around the roots of the bush Virginia was trimming. “I’ve had some thorough talks with your uncle Luke. He says that Mother’s heart is continuing to weaken. I find it hard to go home thinking that something …” She didn’t complete the thought.

  Virginia went suddenly still, her heart constricting. “Did he say … when?”

  Damaris eased back from her kneeling position and shook her head. “He doesn’t know. Not really. Anytime. But who can say? Sometimes even the weakest heart can go on beating for a long time. But if it doesn’t upset your household too much, I’d like to stay for another week or so. I’d like to be here if anything …” Once again, she did not finish her statement.

  “Of course,” said Virginia, swallowing away the lump in her throat.

  “Thank you.” Then Damaris’s voice picked up on a cheerier note. “Did you know that Slate wants to stay on?”

  “Jonathan told me.”

  “They get along well together, don’t they? Both with their love of horses and all.”

  “Like two peas,” responded Virginia with a chuckle.

  “He does seem to be a help to Jonathan.”

  “A big help to me, too,” Virginia was quick to say. “Jona? than never would have found the time to finish the trim and paint the rooms without him. Slate now works with the horses almost as much as Jonathan does.”

  “He sure does love the animals.”

  “He’s a good boy,” said Virginia, her eyes misting as she thought back to the incident in the corral with small Martha. Slate was now handling the stallion Warrior with the same sure hand as Jonathan. But Warrior had been moved to a new cor? ral much farther away from the house. Jonathan did not want to take any chances. As an added precaution he had nailed chicken wire all along the bottom of the nearest corral fence. Flying hooves and tiny tots did not go well together.

  “Yes,” she added, “I hope his folks will agree to his remaining here with us.”

  Jonathan brought the letter home with him. They knew by the return address that it would indicate if Slate had permission to stay as requested or was to accompany his grandmother home at the end of the month.

  Virginia thought the boy would tear the letter open then and there and inform all of them of the decision. But Slate accepted the letter from Jonathan’s outstretched hand and went wordlessly from the house. She heard the door click shut behind him and saw him cross the yard, the letter still in his hand.

  He headed straight for the barn. Virginia assumed he was going to the loft to read the letter in private. It was not until that moment she realized just how important the news would be to the boy. If he was instructed to return home, he would do so, but he would be deeply disappointed. He loved the work with the horses.

  “O Lord,” Virginia began without conscious thought—then checked herself. She would not tell the Lord what to do. He knew best. “Thy will be done,” finished Virginia meekly. She turned back from the window.

  Not many minutes had passed when they heard a wild whoop. Slate was running back across the yard, the letter waving over his head. With each leap in the air, another shout rang out. It appeared that Jonathan had himself a co-worker.

  They had a bit of warning. Not much, but enough for all to gather around her bed and give her one final embrace and whispered words of love. And then it was over. So quickly. So peacefully. Grandmother Withers had slipped away from them to a home far better than any Virginia could offer her.

  Family and friends gathered in their little church to celebrate her homegoing. The day was decked with sunshine, the slight breeze causing autumn-colored leaves to drift gently onto the graves of those who already had taken the journey before her.

  Virginia’s eyes were dry as she stood in the close cluster of family. She had wept. She would weep again. But for the moment she had no tears. Her heart was numb, her mind wrung dry of ability to think or feel.

  People around her moved and spoke and touched her arm with comforting hands, but she was far away, trying to work through what it would be like to have a living room without an invalid’s bed. A morning without a cheery greeting. A supper hour without a thankful nod and smile. Afternoon teatime without shared chats.

  The children will miss you so much came to her clearly as she turned from the grave.

  And then she wept.

  Damaris packed her bags and caught the train as she had planned. Virginia was truly sorry to see her go. And now she would travel alone, with young Slate staying to help Jona? than. Virginia was undecided who was the most pleased by the arrangement—Jonathan, who desperately needed the help; she herself, who would enjoy seeing more of her husband; or Slate, who adored the horses.

  The household adjusted itself to the new living arrangements. Grandmother’s things were removed from the living room. The extra space looked bare and empty, and Virginia turned away from the sight of it with a pang in her heart. Slate took the guest room upstairs. With the nights cooler now, it was much better for him to share the house than use the barn loft.

  A blanket of loneliness seemed to have settled over Virginia’s world. She had known she would miss Grandmother Withers, but she had not realized what a deep sense of loss she would feel. Though she could not—would not—wish Grand? mother Withers back, she felt her days had somehow lost a good deal of meaning. Each new bit of learning that Mindy brought joyfully home from school, each new word that Martha added to her vocabulary, each new recipe or pattern found and tried—all reminded Virginia that she now had no one to share the little details of life with, moment by moment, as she had with Grandmother Withers.

  There were many days she went about her tasks with a heavy heart, blinking back tears. There were many nights when she buried her head in her pillow, hoping her weeping would not disturb Jonathan’s sleep.

  When winter’s chill moved in around them, wrapping them in snow-white blankets, with swirling icy fingers to pinch cheeks and chins, Virginia knew it would be a very long time until spring returned.

  With the arrival of Christmas, Virginia and Jonathan carried on for the sake of the children, doing the same things they had done since they had started their lives together. But it wasn’t the same. Virginia kept remembering past Christmases, with Grandmother Withers.

  On the thirty-first day of December they celebrated Mar? tha’s second birthday
. The excitement in her face shone in the glow of the candles, and she ate birthday cake until Virginia feared she’d be sick. But even though Virginia was able to smile and offer all the right responses, her heart still cried, Wouldn’t Grandmother have enjoyed this?

  January’s cold intensified, and Jonathan took Mindy to school each day in the cutter and picked her up again at day’s end. In between, the two menfolk tried to keep the stock fed and the barns cleaned. Virginia spent her days saying, “no, no,” to a lively Martha and trying to keep the fires going while she did her household chores.

  When February arrived with a break in the weather, Virginia felt a need to break free of her gloom. She asked Jonathan about the possibility of a visit with her grandmother. An older, wiser person—someone like Grandmother Withers—was what her heart was yearning for. Jonathan seemed to understand her need and nodded in agreement. “I’ll take you over there and go on into town. Pick you up on my way back.”

  Virginia bundled Martha up and carried her to the car. She wished she could have time with Grandma Marty alone, but she knew Slate would not be able to watch Martha and get much of anything done in the barn.

  When Virginia climbed from the car and reached for the child, Jonathan stopped her. “She can ride along with me. Let you have this time without chasing after her.”

  Virginia smiled her thanks and pointed out the bag with Martha’s things for the day. He grinned and waved her on with, “We’ll manage just fine, won’t we, Martha?”

  Virginia was warmly welcomed with a long embrace and ushered into a kitchen smelling of spices and hot cider.

  “I was just telling Pa we ought to run on over and see how you’re doin’. But he hates the icy roads more each year. So here we sat—just thinkin’ of ya an’ prayin’ for ya but still wonderin’ about ya.”

  Virginia removed her heavy coat and took her time hanging it on a peg. She couldn’t speak. Not yet.

  “Pa’s out in the barn. Should I call—”

  But Virginia stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Not yet, Grandma. I need to talk with you first.”

  Later over hot cider she began pouring out her heart. Her feeling of loss. Her loneliness for the woman she had grown to love. Her concern that she might not get over it. Her difficulty in explaining it to Jonathan, who watched her with concern in his eyes. She knew he wanted to help, but didn’t know quite how.

  Grandma Marty understood. She did not even have to say so. Virginia could see it in her eyes.

  “It takes time. Time and God,” she told Virginia. “I was told that years ago when I lost someone. At the time, it wasn’t a’tall what I wanted to hear. But it happened—just that way. Oh, not that ya ever forget. Not ever. But life has a way of movin’ on. New things happen. New people come into our lives. God does not leave us stalled forever. He just nudges us forward. Pushes us on out. Urges us to look for new meanin’ in life. An’ it’s there. It’s always there. Somethin’ new to live for. Somethin’ to give life its zest again.”

  Virginia listened carefully, sniffling and wiping tears.

  “An’ it might happen even sooner than ya think. When least expected. You’ll wake up one mornin’ an’ the sun will be a little brighter. The sky a little bluer. Your heart a little lighter. And you’ll feel God. Comfortin’. Sort of like … smilin’ on ya. Then you’ll know. You’ll know right then that healin’ is on the way. That yer gonna make it. The darkest days are finally over.”

  She patted Virginia’s hand, her own smile a little wobbly. She wiped her eyes with the lace-trimmed hankie tucked in her sleeve.

  “The most beautiful part is, when ya do get to the other side of grief, ya suddenly realize that you’re stronger. You’ve learned and grown. You know how to hang on tighter. To lean on Him who holds us. That’s the beautiful part. But ya don’t see that right away. You have to stand back and look at it from a distance like.”

  It was so good to just sit and listen to someone who understood her feelings, her thoughts, her desires. It gave her courage. She just had to hang on and let God do the rest. In time, He would bring about the renewing and healing of the heart she needed. In time. Virginia would lean on Him. And wait.

  March and April meant that each day was a little warmer. A little longer. Buds began to swell on the tree limbs, and shrubs opened up new blossoms. A tulip bloomed. Another, joined by a hyacinth. A robin chose early mornings to perch in the cherry tree and sing as if its heart was overflowing. Martha begged to play outdoors, and the faithful Murphy greeted her with sloppy kisses. Virginia couldn’t help but laugh one afternoon as she watched the two of them standing as close as possible to a puddle without actually being in it. “Now, Mu’ph, you can’t go in there,” she admonished with a chubby finger in his face. The washing machine would be doing double duty this spring.

  Virginia stood on the porch one morning, breathing in great draughts of fresh spring air. She thought of seeds and gardens and rows of fresh green vegetables and breeze-tossed flowers. She watched Martha pick up the dog dish and try to urge a reluctant Murphy to clean up his plate. She smiled. Her heart felt lighter. Almost whole again. And then it hit her—she was moving beyond her grief to joy again. Grandma Marty was right. God was right there. Beside her. No, even closer than that. Within her.

  A month later Virginia moved into Jonathan’s arms after they had retired, and pressed her cheek up against his.

  “I have a bit of news you might be interested in,” she whispered.

  She felt his arms tighten. “And that would be?”

  She smiled in the darkness. Eager to tell him, yet savoring the moment. “Can you guess?” she teased.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “You are going to be a father again.”

  She had more that she was going to say, but she couldn’t. Not just now. Not until Jonathan relaxed his embrace so she could catch her breath again.

  MORE TIMELESS STORIES FROM

  Janette Oke

  * * *

  The Series That Started It All

  Janette Oke’s original bestselling series has drawn readers for decades with a reassuring look at how God’s love can deepen the affection shared by two people—during joy and times of suffering. Join the millions of readers who have enjoyed these sweet and spiritually enriching stories.

  LOVE COMES SOFTLY:

  Love Comes Softly

  Love’s Enduring Promise

  Love’s Long Journey

  Love’s Abiding Joy

  Love’s Unending Legacy

  Love’s Unfolding Dream

  Love Takes Wing

  Love Finds a Home

  * * *

  Life is changing for young Joshua Jones. In his SEASONS OF THE HEART, he learns to grow and love in the midst of loss and disappointment. A poignant four-part tale of faith shaping a life in a small prairie community.

  SEASONS OF THE HEART:

  Once Upon a Summer

  The Winds of Autumn

  Winter Is Not Forever

  Spring’s Gentle Promise

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

 

 

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