Jamie took his hand and they left the dayroom, her momentary heaviness of spirit lifting almost immediately as she began to tell her son of the joyful intercession of God on behalf of their dear friend.
54
Expectation
A chill November wind swept over the mission compound as evening made its approach. Hugging his jacket close to his body, Robbie continued to pace back and forth before the front door of the residence. He had always heard of men behaving in this peculiarly nervous manner before the birth of their firstborn, but he had never imagined himself in such a position. And now here he was—the anxious, fidgety father-to-be, unable to relax even for a moment.
Yet how could he sit still when one of the greatest events of his life was occurring behind that closed door? Pacing was the only way to relieve the pent-up emotions. Even Shan-fei’s tea had not helped.
He wanted to burst into the room and yell at his father-in-law not to take so long! But he knew Isaiah would only look up benevolently, and in a loving but patronizing tone say, “These things have their own timing, Robert. Babies come when they are ready, and when the Creator is ready to let them go.”
It had been two hours since the heaviest stage of Hsi-chen’s labor had begun, and that following almost fifteen hours of moderate pains. How much could her weakened body endure?
“Dear Father! Protect her!” he cried.
The words were hardly necessary, for Robbie knew the Lord’s strong arms were ever around his dear wife. If only he could communicate that truth to his pounding heart.
A child was the last thing Robbie ever expected to have during his days of adventuring. And it certainly had been far from his mind that day more than a year ago when he had asked Hsi-chen to become his wife, especially when she had revealed the sad secret in her life.
So many things had changed so suddenly for Robbie!
His mind wandered back to that day, filled as it had been simultaneously with great joy and deep sorrow. They had walked up to the little hillside where he had made his final commitment to God. It had been no idle stroll or surprise destination. He had planned their steps exactly. All day he had been rehearsing in his mind that very moment, and knew the words must be spoken in that spot. A gentle breeze had been making its way over the hilltop, but it had nevertheless been dry and warm, for the summer monsoon still clung tenuously to the river delta.
“I will never come here without being reminded of how loving and merciful our God is—to all men,” he had said, gazing out over the rice fields, now being harvested by the village folk. “But there are many things besides which also stir that knowledge within me.”
“When one knows God,” Hsi-chen replied, “it is impossible to look upon any of His creation and not be aware of His goodness.”
“Yes,” agreed Robbie. “I see it also when I look at you, over and over. How wonderful it was of God to have allowed me to find you.” He gazed into her lovely eyes, then continued. “So often I wonder if I am worthy even to know you. Then I realize all over again that I am not worthy of any of His gifts. But it is that awareness which enables me to come to you now with what I must say—with what cries out from my heart to be said.”
He paused, and took her hands in his one large, warm hand. “Hsi-chen . . . I love you!”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her with a quick shake of the head. “Please,” he said, “let me finish before you protest. I haven’t much to offer, though I know God is able to make up for what I lack. And I know my life has not been a stable one, and I don’t even know how much of that I can change. But for once I am willing to lay all that in God’s hands, if you are. For I love you and want to marry you!”
He ended abruptly, with a sharp breath and a look of anxiety on his brow, for he did not see a look of reciprocal joy on Hsi-chen’s face that he had hoped for. Was he doomed never to find happiness in love?
“Oh, Robbie!” Hsi-chen finally answered in a voice filled with emotion. “I have been so selfish and unfair to you!”
“What are you talking about! You have never been selfish to me! You are incapable of such things,” Robbie declared. “It’s my own fault. I thought only of myself—I wanted so desperately to believe that you loved me also—”
“But I do, Robbie!”
“Then what can be worrying you so? If you are afraid of Feng-huang’s wandering—?”
“It is not that.”
Hsi-chen released her hands from his and walked a few paces from him, as if she would already begin breaking the bonds that held them. At last she spoke. “I have selfishly withheld something from you, Robbie. I wanted so many times to tell you. But I knew when I did it must mean the end of any love we might have been able to have. So I put it off, and put it off still further, until now, when I fear I shall break both of our hearts.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Robbie, I . . . I have—my body is not well, Robbie . . .”
But that had not mattered to Robbie. God had brought them together, whether it might last a year or ten years or fifty. And could not the God who brought such dramatic change to a sailor’s life also heal Hsi-chen’s body? And yet, as much as Robbie hoped their love might last for fifty years, in the days of bliss following their marriage, he had come more and more often before the Lord to pray for strength to accept the loss he knew must come.
He had to write Jamie again, Robbie thought. The time flew by so quickly. It had already been more than a year since his first letter, and he had had her reply months ago. What he wouldn’t give to see her face when she read that Robbie Taggart was a father!
The thought of fatherhood brought Robbie quickly back to the present. He glanced toward the door. If only he could be spared from having to bid Hsi-chen farewell today! A lump rose in his throat and tears to his eyes. “I’m not ready, Father. Please, give us more time,” he murmured.
When he looked up again Robbie saw old Chang approaching. He gathered in his emotions in time to greet the man with a smile.
“We hear little Hsi-chen’s confinement is come,” said the old man in broken English. He and Robbie had been working together to teach one another their respective languages.
“Well spoken, my friend!” said Robbie. “I wish my Chinese was progressing as well as your English.”
“You have others occupy your mind,” said Chang with a knowing grin. “And Chinese difficult to learn.” Now he held out his hands, and Robbie saw that he held a package. “We bring gift for new little one. If son, may he bring delight to old age. If daughter, may she bring years of joy.”
“To hsieh, to hsieh,” Robbie replied with a bow. “Many thanks, dear friend.”
“My wife make,” said Chang, pointing toward the package. “Need not open now. You be lucky man, and will find many blessings in firstborn!”
Robbie could not keep still the surge of emotion that rose in him. He threw his arm around the old man and embraced him. Then they parted, the old Chinese even more reticent than Robbie to display his innermost feelings.
But his words lingered in Robbie’s ears. “You . . . will find many blessings in firstborn.”
Yes, Robbie was sure he would. Though fatherhood was an experience, a gift he never thought he’d have, he now looked forward to it with great anticipation. Eleven months ago, when Hsi-chen had first approached him about the subject, he had vehemently shaken his head. He would do nothing, he said, which might increase the danger to her life. His words had been harsh and he had refused to hear another mention of the subject. Yet her downcast eyes and quiet spirit over the following days caused him to repent of his hasty judgment. Yet had not Wallace counseled him about the dangers of childbirth before their marriage, as much as physician as a concerned father? How could Robbie even dream of putting in risk this dear gift God had given him?
It was not many nights later that Hsi-chen had broached the subject once more.
“I know I must leave this world soon, my dear,” she had told him.
Again Robbie tried to shake off her words. She had been looking so well lately, with high color and a healthy glow about her cheeks. He had begun to convince himself that this whole business of her illness must be a mistake. He did not want to be reminded otherwise.
“Please listen to me, dear Robbie,” she implored. “I have spent many hours in prayer about this. I do not think it is wrong of me to want to leave a part of myself behind when I go. It would only be different if I knew that you did not want—”
“You know that is not it,” he answered quickly. “But I want you more than any child.”
“From the beginning you knew that you could not have me always,” she said gently.
Robbie hung his head. “I know,” he whispered at length. “But I have never given up hoping.”
“I have but one reservation,” she went on. “I would not want to cause you to be tied to a child . . . after I am gone. With nothing to tie you to this place, you may again—”
He raised his hand to interrupt her, but no words would come. He turned away.
Did Hsi-chen hold a latent fear that when she was gone from him, his roving feet might once more call to him? Did she think that he was still afraid of lasting ties?
Was he? No, he had put his past as well as his future in God’s hands, even before he had asked Hsi-chen to be his wife. God had directed his steps thus far, and he need not fear the future.
Finally he turned his face to hers. “Oh, my dear,” he said passionately, “haven’t you known? Don’t you yet feel it? I ceased being a wanderer on that hillside months ago—I am now a white swan! I have come here to stay. I want to have a family now. No matter what God calls me to do, our child would never be anything but a further reminder of His love—and our love, yours and mine! I would count it the greatest honor of my life, other than being your husband, to hold in trust this most precious of all gifts—your child.”
“Oh, Robbie, you make me so happy!”
“You are sure it is what you want?”
“I am so sure,” she answered. “And though my father will not say so, I sense that having a child will do nothing to accelerate what is coming anyway. I believe God will allow me enough time for this one last earthly joy.”
Robbie drew Hsi-chen to him, kissing her tenderly. It seemed impossible that he should have discovered such a treasure!
As her final request became a reality, he tried not to think that they must soon part. Yet as the months of her pregnancy progressed through the following spring and summer, that truth became all the more painfully evident. Every day Robbie said goodbye to her in his heart, though his mind continued to struggle with what he still tried to convince himself might never happen. Something would happen, he kept telling himself—a miracle, a breakthrough of some kind.
55
Fulfillment
Robbie’s thoughts jerked back to the present as the residence door swung open.
He ran forward as Wallace stepped outside and closed the door softly behind him. How worn and spent he looks, thought Robbie, momentarily forgetting his own anxiety in concern for the missionary. He was Hsi-chen’s father, “if not by blood, then in every other way,” as Hsi-chen herself had once said. His agony must be equally as profound as Robbie’s; Wallace and Shan-fei would also need comfort. Yet as close as they had grown through the past year, it was still difficult for Robbie to think of this mighty man of God in need. He had been such a strength to Robbie, helping him learn to cope with the loss of the use of one hand, and even more helping him in his growth as a new Christian.
Robbie could not even count all the conversations they had had, many lasting into the early hours of the morning. Any remaining reservations he held toward Wallace fell completely away. He came to see him with spiritual eyes, and the man he had once feared gradually had become a friend—even a father to him. Many times he and Wallace and Coombs were seen trekking about the countryside together, visiting church members in the five surrounding villages, calling on the sick, handing out tracts and booklets in the Chinese language. Before Wallace had said anything, Robbie had sensed there was more involved in these activities than was perhaps visible on the surface.
Finally one day Wallace had clarified his feelings.
“I have been praying for you, lad,” he said.
“Thank you, Isaiah,” Robbie had answered. “You know I need prayer. Changing a lifetime of habits doesn’t come easy for me.”
“That is true for each one of us. I know there are many things about trying to live as a Christian that may run counter to how you were used to thinking in the past. Yet you have been giving the Lord every opportunity to remake your thought patterns and your attitudes. I must say you have earned my respect. Rarely have I seen one grow so rapidly in new faith. But I have had a specific intent in my prayers of late.”
Robbie cocked a curious eyebrow. “You know Thomas is preparing to join Dr. Taylor’s China Inland Mission,” Wallace continued, “where he feels he will have greater opportunity to fulfill the call God has lately laid on his heart to bring the gospel further inland, perhaps even as far as Tibet.”
Robbie smiled. He had known all along that Thomas Coombs was an adventurer at heart.
“And thus,” Wallace continued, “I have been praying for God’s direction on your life.”
“As a replacement for Thomas here at the mission?” said Robbie.
The thought was not a novel one; it had crossed his mind previously.
“The work we have done thus far together seems to come naturally for you,” said Wallace. “You enjoy talking with people. When your Chinese tongue becomes more skilled, I perceive that the villagers will flock to hear your story. And I am certain there will be a place here for you . . . even when Hsi-chen is gone.”
He paused, and both men were silent, as they usually were when faced with the reality of what her loss would mean.
“I am honored that you would feel that way,” answered Robbie at length. “You know I am praying about my future, too.”
“But you must hear God’s leading, Robert.”
“I know that,” replied Robbie thoughtfully.
In the weeks which followed their conversation, Robbie had prayed even more urgently. Yet no specific answer had come, unless he could count his deepening involvement in the life of the mission as a subtle direction from above. This involvement came to be expressed through more than itinerant preaching and visitation, however. By degrees Robbie’s heart began to be bound up not only with the mission itself, but also in the Chinese people it served, such as Chang, and the old rabble-rouser Li—himself very close, Robbie thought, to embracing the faith he had once so despised. In addition, lately Robbie had been drawn into friendship with a young man, a new convert by the name of Shen Kuo-hwa, whose wife had recently died in childbirth. Despite their vast cultural differences and the barriers of language, they had immediately developed a bond with one another. They had been able to encourage each other in their first steps as Christians, Robbie passing on much wisdom he had gained from Wallace. And they were also able to strengthen one another as men—Kuo-hwa from his recent loss, and Robbie in his anticipated grief. When Robbie one day all at once realized that he and Kuo-hwa were friends, in the most profound and spiritual sense of the word, he knew he had taken a great step forward. Wallace had once said to him that one of the great flaws in the character of many foreign missionaries was that, though they spread the gospel, they tended to keep to themselves. Very few actually became intimate friends with their converts, for it often took years to discover any common ground. Yet such a knitting of minds and hearts had occurred between Robbie and Kuo-hwa within a matter of months.
What does it all mean? Robbie frequently wondered to himself. He told Hsi-chen that he had become a swan. And he had meant it. But did this mean that China was in fact to be his final abode? Would he ever sail the sea again? Would he ever see his beloved homeland of Scotland? When he had said the words to her, he had not really cons
idered such questions. He only knew that he no longer had the desire to roam with never a thought of destination. But could he be content here? That was a question he couldn’t yet answer. He desired the will of God above all things. But the question always remained—what was God’s will? For him to remain in China? Or something else?
Well . . . that was not a question he had to receive an answer to now. He was about to become a father! And that was sufficient to occupy any man’s mind for the present, and a good deal beyond!
As Wallace drew near, Robbie could see that he wore a look of anxiety. But at last the doctor’s lips broke into a smile—a weary one to be sure, but a smile nonetheless. Robbie needed no more encouragement in order for his pent-up emotions to suddenly break forth. He ran forward to Wallace and threw his arms around him. Both men stood in that manly embrace for some moments before either could speak. It was Wallace who managed the first words.
“God be praised!” he said quietly.
“Hsi-chen . . . ?” Robbie forced the words past that hard lump in his throat.
“ . . . is fine,” said Wallace. “God is strengthening her as she knew He would. But . . .”
Here he paused while gathering his own strength. “You must be prepared when you see her, Robert,” he went on. “This has taken a great toll on her body.”
“Will she . . . recover?”
“That is in God’s hands, my son.” Wallace paused again, but this time he let another smile invade his features. “But you have not asked about your new baby! You have a daughter—a tiny thing; she weighs only five and a half pounds. But she is healthy!”
Robbie closed his eyes, though the words of thanksgiving could not seem to form to express the depth of gratitude he felt. He had hoped for a daughter, who might somehow carry forth the spirit of the mother. But he had reserved the expression of his prayers solely for Hsi-chen. In his compassion, God had seen fit to grant this small hope.
“Go into your family,” urged the doctor to Robbie, who still stood speechless in front of him.
Robbie Taggart Page 44