[Home To Blessing 01] - A Measure of Mercy

by Lauraine Snelling

  Ingeborg could hear the hum of their discussions but not the gist of it. Elizabeth and Ellie were laughing about something, and Freda was handing Anna things from the pantry to put on the table. Ingeborg brought the deep kettle with the potatoes, which had simmered while they were gone, to the sink and poured the potato water into a separate crock, planning to use it in the soup she would make in the morning. Then she pulled the potato masher out of the drawer and mashed the hot potatoes, added cream and butter, salt and pepper, and mashed until the lumps were gone. She gave the contents a good whipping to lighten them up.

  At the same time Freda had taken the venison haunch out of the oven and removed it from the pan. As she added flour to the drippings, Ingeborg shoved her kettle to the back of the stove to keep warm.

  “You want to finish the gravy or slice the meat?”

  “I’ll do the gravy.” She turned. “Anna, would you put the rolls in the oven to warm up?”

  Haakan stepped back into the kitchen. “I asked Joshua to join us, but he had promised to help Johnny Solberg with guitar lessons, so he might be a bit late.”

  Ingeborg nodded. “Ellie, please set another place.”

  “Good thing you have such a big table.”

  “I know. And the children can sit on laps for now. Haakan is planning on building a lower table for the children, now that we have more of them.”

  As soon as they had the food in serving dishes, Ingeborg called everyone to the table. “Haakan, please lead the grace.”

  As silence fell, Haakan said, “I Jesu navn, gär vi til bords,” with all the others joining the age-old Norwegian grace. At the amen, everyone sat but for Ingeborg and Freda, who brought the remaining plates and platters to the table. Ingeborg smiled to herself to see her three men, each with a child on a knee, dishing up their own plate plus the small one for their child. She knew that other families didn’t do things this way, but when Thorliff started it, Andrew followed, and now Haakan did the same. Thank you, Father, whispered through her mind as she made sure all the bowls were refilled.

  “You sit down now,” Freda told her. “I will pour the coffee.”

  For a change Ingeborg did just that, dropping a kiss on Emmy’s head as she sat beside Haakan. “Do you want me to take her?” she asked quietly.

  Haakan shook his head. “She’s fine.”

  She’s fine. Such a short comment but so perfect. Aren’t we all fine?Healthy, happy, gathered in a house all snugged up for the winter, all together, including grandchildren, cousins, our family. The thoughts kept floating through her mind as she filled her plate, with Haakan making sure she got some of everything. Oh, Lord, how blessed we are.I cannot thank you enough. The only one missing is Astrid. I pray you keep her safe, and you know my opinion on where I want her to go next.

  Between bites she brought her attention back to the conversation around the table.

  “If the snow keeps up, like I think it will, as soon as it is deep enough, we can use the sleighs for our Christmas tree–cutting trek.”

  “Where do you cut trees?” Gilbert asked, confusion in his eyes. “There are none here.”

  “Some of us go across the river to Minnesota. Once out of the Red River Valley, there are plenty of pine trees. A farmer over there lets us cut trees in exchange for a wheel of cheese,” Thorliff explained. “Far and Lars usually go. Not sure who else will go along. They bring back one for the church too.”

  “Enough for the whole town?”

  “No. Some come in a railroad car.”

  “We used to bring one back for everyone, but now there are just too many households.” Haakan set Emmy down when Inga slid to the floor. “You girls let Carl play too.”

  “Carl has the train,” Inga said. “We have the ball.”

  “Ball?” Carl slid off his father’s knee. “Play ball.”

  Ingeborg rolled her lips together. Astrid was usually the one who played with the children. Why was her name coming up so often today? Was there something going on with her? More than the every day? Or was it just that Christmas was coming and it was her first one away from home?

  29

  DECEMBER 20, 1903

  Aline from Pastor Solberg’s sermon this Sunday before Christmas ate at Joshua like a dog gnawing on a bone. “The one who suffers the most when you refuse to forgive someone—” there was a long pause, and he looked directly into Joshua’s eyes, or so he thought—“is you.” The silence shouted and echoed the comment.

  Joshua stared at the man in front of the congregation. Had he really said that? At the end of the four-part series on forgiveness, all of which needled Joshua mercilessly anyway, this was hard to hear.

  He played the final song on his guitar along with Elizabeth on the piano, but his mind refused to take part. Good thing his fingers knew where to go and what to do.

  “Are you all right?” Dr. Elizabeth asked him when they finished playing after most of the congregation had filed out.

  Joshua nodded, shook his head, and nodded again. He sighed and looked toward her. “He packs a punch, doesn’t he?”

  “Pastor Solberg?”

  “Um-hmm.” He unbuttoned the strap that looped over his shoulder. “He makes it sound so simple.”

  “Sound simple and be simple don’t go hand in hand. Sometimes they’re not even speaking.”

  He nodded. Good thing he had told Johnny Solberg that he couldn’t give him a lesson today. “Merry Christmas, Dr. Bjorklund.”

  “Where’s Mr. Landsverk going?” Ingeborg asked when Dr. Elizabeth joined her and Kaaren outside.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  Ingeborg pointed to the figure striding back toward town. “I thought he was coming to dinner.”

  “Perhaps he had something he needed to do beforehand.”

  “So are we all ready for the Christmas program tonight?” Kaaren asked.

  “Far as I know the musicians are. Johnny is going to play too, for his first time.”

  “Guess he won’t be Joseph this year, then?”

  “No, and Samuel is acting like I’ve been beating him because I said he had to take the part,” Kaaren added.

  “Good thing we had a large-size male garment.” Ingeborg had been in charge of sewing Christmas costumes ever since the plays began. This year she’d made a new crown for one of the kings because the other had disintegrated. “The angel wings are getting a bit worn.”

  “I know. And Dorothy’s baby, Adam, is pretty large to be playing baby Jesus, but all will be well,” Elizabeth said. “No matter what happens, we all love it. This is the third or fourth time we are using the original one that Thorliff wrote.”

  “I tried to get him to write another, but he said he just didn’t have time. Who wrote the story he’s been serializing in the paper this year?” Kaaren asked.

  “He won’t tell even me. Says it will be a surprise in this week’s edition.” Elizabeth looked around for her daughter.

  “She’s with Emmy. I think they are making snow angels with the big girls.” Ingeborg shaded her eyes with a flat hand. “Over there by the trees.”

  The sun shimmering on the snow made the blue sky even bluer, if that were possible. Black fence posts wearing white top hats stuck up through the sparkling drifts, mute lines of sentinel soldiers.

  Ingeborg raised her face to the sun, which had little warmth. “I am so grateful for days like this. I want to soak in the sun and trap it to take out in bits and pieces when I need it.”

  “Like when that old north wind is howling?” Kaaren took her arm. “The men are waiting, most likely thinking they’ve not been fed for a week.”

  * * *

  THAT EVENING AT the church there was standing room only, as the stage in front took up extra room. Dr. Elizabeth, Joshua, Lars, Trygve, and Johnny played a medley of carols while people filed in and scooted closer so more could sit down. Kerosene lamps on wall sconces provided light, along with stair-stepped candelabras that Mr. Sam had created for the church. A pine tree dressed
in angels— crocheted, carved, knit, and pieced—waited in the corner for the candles to be lit.

  The players took their positions. Thorliff stepped to the podium and silence fell, that awestruck moment when the world waits for the story to be told again. A child’s voice sang from the rear. “O come, O come, Emmanuel . . .”

  Joshua answered. “And ransom captive Israel . . .”

  The children’s choir picked up. “That mourns in lonely exile here . . .”

  Joshua replied. “Until the Son of God appear.”

  Everyone sang the chorus. “Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.”

  Silence reigned again, and then Thorliff began reading the familiar story.

  Ingeborg dabbed at her eyes, her sniff joining others.

  The baby slept through the program, only one angel lost a wing, and the lamb tried to escape, but Joseph reached over and grabbed it, handing it back to the shepherd. The king’s new crown glittered in the lamplight. Grace, who was so aptly named, signed for those who couldn’t hear. She’d come home in time to do just that, and the smile she sent Jonathan at the piano bench left no doubt in anyone’s mind as to her love for him.

  And the age-old story, always new and full of promise, dug into each of their hearts and blossomed in love.

  As they all sang “Silent Night,” three people lit the candles on the tree while others doused the kerosene lamps so that the lighted tree was the only light.

  “Oh, pretty!” Inga’s voice could be heard to the corners, bringing chuckles and other comments.

  The delight on Emmy’s face when she was given a peppermint stick, an orange, and a wrapped package like all the other children made Ingeborg tear up again. “You can open it,” Ingeborg told her.

  “See, like this.” Inga opened hers, as always making sure Emmy knew what to do. Inside each box was a book, thanks to Thorliff and Elizabeth, who had given the children this present ever since they came back to Blessing.

  Emmy studied the orange, sniffed it, and held it out to Ingeborg.

  Then following Inga’s lead, she sucked on her peppermint stick, her face glowing in delight.

  By the time the program was finished, the candles extinguished, the costumes in a stack by the side door, and small children asleep in their folks’ arms, everyone headed for home, accompanied by sleigh bells and laughter.

  “That was so beautiful,” Freda said. “And when they sang some of the carols in Norwegian, why, my heart just flew home.” She paused a moment. “But, you know, I think this was the best Christmas program I ever saw.”

  “Ingeborg says that every year.” Haakan nudged his wife. “Don’t you?”

  “I do?” Ingeborg stared at him wide-eyed. “That couldn’t be me.” She glanced down at the little one nearly hidden by the buffalo robe. “She’s almost asleep.”

  “I’m not surprised. Next year she’ll be in the program too.”

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING Ingeborg found an envelope stuck in the doorframe. She opened it to read:

  Dear Mrs. Bjorklund,

  Thank you for the kind invitation to join your family for Christmas Day, but I am leaving on the train this morning to return to Iowa. You know my family is there, and thanks to Pastor Solberg, I have an errand to do. May you all have the most blessed Christmas ever.

  Sincerely,

  Joshua Landsverk

  “So that was what he was about,” Haakan said when he heard her read it again later. “He told Thorliff and Hjelmer he would need to miss some work.”

  “But at least Penny got to move in.” The move had taken two days, with everyone who could take the time helping.

  “There is still much to do inside, but it is livable and the furnace works just great. I think we’ll put one in here next fall.”

  “Along with the bathroom?”

  “That comes in the spring, although I could do the inside work on it this winter.” He nodded, digging at his teeth with the tip of his tongue, along with a slow nod that told Ingeborg he’d disappeared into thought land.

  “Today Emmy and I are making fattigmann.” Ingeborg swooped the little girl up in her arms and danced them around the kitchen.

  “Again?” Freda set the last of the breakfast dishes in the pan of hot soapy water on the stove.

  “I know. I saved the lard from the last ones. We should do doughnuts too. We have plenty of buttermilk.”

  “I thought I’d make buttermilk pies. My mor always made those for Christmas dinner.”

  “You better make four or five, then. The whole family will be here, and then in the afternoon everyone takes the sleighs out, and we go visiting.”

  “But who do you visit when everyone is out?”

  “It seems to work out.”

  Ingeborg got out her recipe and mixed the ingredients for the fattigmann, Emmy standing on a stool beside her, a towel tied around her for an apron. “Now, when we roll these out, we cut them and you tuck the tail into the slot, and then we fry them.”

  Emmy nodded as if she understood every word.

  Ingeborg rolled and cut the diamond shapes, a slot in the middle, and showed her helper how to tuck the tail in. They giggled together, and Ingeborg dropped a piece of dough into the lard kettle on the stove to make sure it was hot enough.

  Then she slid the fattigmann into the kettle. Freda watched the cookies brown, flipped them over, and with a slotted spoon, dipped them out and laid the treats on dish towels to drain. When they’d cooled, they shook them in powdered sugar and filled the few tins they had empty.

  “You have powdered sugar all over your face,” Ingeborg told Emmy and held her up to see in the mirror. Emmy giggled and brushed the white spots away. She turned to smile at Ingeborg, who kissed the little cheek. “You still taste like sugar.”

  When Haakan returned from town, he brought an envelope from Astrid. He opened it with his pocketknife and pulled out the paper.

  “Dear Mor and Far,

  “I’m keeping this short, but I wanted to make sure you would be home Christmas Day. At one o’clock in the afternoon I plan to telephone you. I just have to hear your voices and tell you God Jul. Merry Christmas. And how much I love you.”

  Ingeborg sniffed. “Having her here would make Christmas perfect.” She looked down to see Emmy staring up at her, her eyes round and face sad.

  “No, I am not sad . . . well not much, little one.” She bent over and hugged Emmy close. “And you make me so happy that I can’t squeeze you enough.”

  That always made Emmy giggle.

  “And one of these days, I think you are going to talk, and that will make me really, really happy too.”

  Haakan cleared his throat and continued with the rest of the letter.

  “I dream of home and white snow, not the dirty stuff on all the streets here. Even the snow on the rooftops is an ugly gray from all the coal burning. But we are busy here. As Dr. Morganstein has said repeatedly, sickness and accidents don’t take a vacation at Christmas. She also told us to prepare for more cases of family abuse. There is so much sadness at this time, when instead the whole world should be rejoicing. I better hurry. I just heard them call my name.

  “Love and joy,

  “Your daughter,

  “Dr. Astrid Bjorklund

  “P.S. I’m sorry that Mr. Josephson and Mr. Abramson decided to postpone their visit until spring, but this way perhaps I can be there too.

  “A”

  “She loves to sign her letters that way, I think.” Ingeborg smiled at her husband. “Is it a sin to be so proud of one’s child?”

  “If it is, we have it together.” Haakan slid the letter back into the envelope. “I could sure eat some of the fattigmann about now.”

  “That’s why we had to make them again.”

  ———

  CHRISTMAS DAY DAWNED clear. Ingeborg scraped a spot free of ice off the kitchen window so she could see the sunrise. “Thank you, Lord, for a glorious day. No blizzard this year as
there has been in the past.” She thought back to the night before, when they had lighted the candles on the tree in the parlor. Inga, Emmy, and Carl had stared, oohed and aahed. Ingeborg, as always, did the same, kneeling beside the little ones and cuddling them close while Haakan read the Christmas story. Christmas trees needed to be lit in the evening. Today would be beautiful, but not as it had been the night before.

  They attended church at ten and had dinner at noon, the smoked geese having been stuffed and put in the oven before they left for church. The children danced from the tree, with the presents stacked around, to the kitchen and back to the tree while the women cleaned up the dinner and put things away.

  “Presents now?” Inga asked for the thirtieth time.

  “Not yet. Not until after Tante Astrid calls us on the telephone.”

  Inga rolled her eyes. “Cookie then?” She quickly added a “please” for good measure.

  When the telephone rang two times, everyone fell silent as Ingeborg rushed to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Mor, God Jul. Merry Christmas. Hold the receiver out so I can shout to everyone.” And shout she did. Then they all shouted Merry Christmas back to her.

  After quick visits with each one, Astrid said softly, “I miss you all so much.”

  “And we miss you.” I miss you the most. But Ingeborg could hardly speak through the tears. “I sent you a box of Christmas goodies. Did you get them?”

  “Oh, I did. Thank you so much. We had a party the other night and shared our boxes from home. Yours were the best. Well, I better let you go. Have you opened the presents yet?”

  “No, I made them wait until after we talked with you. This is the best present.”

  “And Inga is—?”

  “Being Inga. She can’t wait. She’s staring up at me right now, her look saying ‘Hang up the telephone.’ ”

  “Give her a kiss from me. Bye, Mor.”

  “Bye.” She bent down and kissed Inga’s cheek and then her nose. “Those are from Tante Astrid.”