Miss Hattie automatically lifted her eyes heavenward. “He’s right where He’s always been, chil’. He hears your prayers and He cares about you, but you gotta have some trust. The Bible says God knows how many hairs you got on your head. I always did figure that if God’s keepin’ count of each strand of hair growin’ on this old head, He cares ’bout all the rest of my life. Now, dat don’t mean I understand everything that happens. Just means I know God’s got it under control, and I ain’t got to be tryin’ to take charge.” She fanned herself with the apron she wore over her dress. “Instead of always holdin’ on and thinkin’ you know best, you gotta let Him take control. God knows what’s good for you, Jarena, but you keep tryin’ to make your own plans without Him. You’s a smart girl. I know you’s able to understand what I’m sayin’.”
“I’ve asked God to forgive me.”
“Forgive you for what? Being such a headstrong gal?” The older woman looked straight into Jarena’s eyes. “You ain’t blamin’ yourself ’bout Charles comin’ out here and getting hisself killed, are you?”
“No, though I did at first. Now I’ve accepted the fact that Charles didn’t come to Kansas because of his love for me. After talking to his mother, I understand he wanted to move out here as much as Pappy did—Charles believed he needed to prove himself. Trouble is, I didn’t understand a lot of things about Charles until after his death. There wasn’t much time between Pappy giving Charles permission to come calling and our departure for Kansas. Given enough time back in Kentucky, I think I would have realized we weren’t a good match. He likely should have married Belle Harris—they were better suited.”
“So what you done that needs God’s forgiveness?”
“I’ve been terribly angry since Mama died. Then when Pappy said we were leaving Georgetown, that only made matters worse. I made it hard on him. Oh, I did what he asked, but not without grumbling and making sure he knew of my unhappiness at every turn. I never once considered his feelings or what he and the twins wanted. Before my mama died, she said she prayed I would grow up to be a righteous woman. I haven’t done that, Miss Hattie. I’ve been selfish and angry.”
The older woman threaded a needle and began to darn a hole in one of Calvin’s socks. “And so you asked God to forgive yer foolish ways, but you don’ think He’s heard you, is dat right?”
“Um-hum.” Jarena gazed off into the distance.
Miss Hattie took a stitch and pulled the thread tight. “How come you think God ain’t heard your prayers and forgiven you?”
She shrugged. “Because nothing’s changed.”
“What you mean, chil’? Was you expectin’ the earth to tremble ’cause you finally asked God to forgive you?” Miss Hattie asked playfully.
“No, but I thought things would get better. Instead, they’ve become worse. Pappy and Grace are out in the fields all day long, leaving me alone most days. I still miss Mama. Then, too, Thomas is gone, and I haven’t heard a word from him since he left. . . .”
“Now we’s getting somewhere. Problem is, you’s all confused about forgiveness. Jest ’cause you don’t get what you want, that don’t mean God ain’t forgiven you. Dem two things ain’t connected, Jarena. God’s forgiveness ain’t tied to nothing else. You’s wantin’ God to prove His forgiveness by providin’ you with a reward—something you think you deserve.” Miss Hattie cackled. “God ain’t in the bartering business. You’s still tryin’ to keep control.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“You s’pose? You knows I’m right, gal! Now, you quit tryin’ to take charge of everything and give the good Lord control. He’s gonna do a better job than you can even imagine.” She tucked the mended sock into her basket. “And if you’s lonely all day long, you could tend to a few of Effie’s young’uns from time to time. Poor woman still ain’t got used to life out here on the prairie.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Miss Hattie. Why didn’t God let my mama live when I prayed? Why doesn’t God deliver Effie Beyer from her misery?”
“God don’t always answer our prayers the way we want, Jarena. Ain’t nothing in the Bible what promises He’s gonna give us whatever we pray for, but that’s where trust comes in—you gotta trust God knows better than you.”
Jarena frowned. “I still don’t understand all the suffering and misery He allows.”
“You can’t blame God for the evil and misery in the world, Jarena— you got to give the devil his due on that account. Evil and misery goes way back to the Garden of Eden. Man wasn’t content to enjoy what God give him. Don’t you make that mistake, Jarena. You trust God and do like the Bible says—count it as joy when you face hard times. It’s during them hard times when we’s got the chance to draw close to Jesus, ’cause during the good times—”
“We forget about God?”
She nodded. “Now you’s beginnin’ to understand. You see, when we believe in Jesus, we can make it through the hard times ’cause we got Him to lean on. How you think our people come through slavery?”
Without giving an opportunity for a reply, the leathery-skinned old woman pointed her darning needle in Jarena’s direction. “Dem slaves wasn’t able to make it on their own strength—they knew Jesus was their strength and salvation. It was Jesus that was gonna deliver them out of bondage. Don’ mean a lot of ’em didn’t die afore freedom come to our people, but God was watchin’ and waitin’ for the right time. And only He knows when the time is right, Jarena. But ooh my—when God moves, He stirs with a swiftness and power dat’s beyond compare.”
“I wish I had your faith, Miss Hattie,” Jarena whispered.
“Wishin’ don’ do no good—wishin’ is for fools. Prayer! That’s what grow your faith, gal. And you need to open the Good Book and read what God’s got to say. You’s blessed you know how to read, Jarena. I think your pappy would be right pleased if you read to him from the Bible every evenin’ when he gets back from the fields.” She pulled another sock from her basket and examined it. “Now I could do with a cup of coffee if you’s got some.”
“I’ll go inside and get you a cup.”
Jarena felt every word Miss Hattie had spoken to the core of her being. She’d been pulling away from God ever since her mother died. Oh, she prayed from time to time and occasionally read the Bible, but mostly she thought about God only at Sunday meetings or when some problem arose. She stood inside the dugout, with the smell of the Kansas soil filling her nostrils, and she closed her eyes.
“Forgive me,” she whispered. “You already know trust is a hard thing for me, but I’m going to try—and with your help, I believe I’ll succeed.”
The sunlight momentarily blinded Jarena as she walked back outdoors with Miss Hattie’s cup of coffee. “Is that Calvin coming in this direction?”
“Sure ’nuff. It looks like he’s got somethin’ in his hand. Maybe a letter. Maybe I done heard from my sister. You can read it to me.”
Jarena handed the cup of coffee to the older woman. “I’d be pleased to do that, Miss Hattie.”
“What you got there, Calvin?” she called, waving her sewing basket.
His face lit up with a toothy grin. “Letter for Jarena. Looks like it come from Indian Territory!”
Miss Hattie whooped with glee. “Dat’s even better than a letter from my sister! Is it from him?”
Jarena’s eyes filled with happy tears as she took the envelope from Calvin. She recognized Thomas’s uneven script. “It’s from Thomas! Oh, thank you.” She looked up toward heaven. “Thank you, Lord!”
Long after Miss Hattie had returned to her dugout, Jarena contemplated the changes in her life. She was much like this Kansas prairie— tough and uncompromising. But with proper care and tending, even the prairie had begun to show promise. With God’s help, perhaps she would demonstrate that same potential. Green shoots had already begun to sprout in the rows of planted fields. Instead of dwelling upon the weeds, she should be giving thanks for new growth. Come summer, there would be abundant crop
s to gather—and with the arrival of the recent homesteaders, the harvest would be made easier.
Indeed, there would be much to celebrate come summer. They should plan an Emancipation Celebration much like the ones they’d always celebrated back home. There was no reason not to observe emancipation of the West Indian slaves from Britain here in Kansas the same as they had back in Kentucky. Surely the entire community would support the idea of a summer festival.
Her untamed thoughts stirred with an excitement she’d not experienced in much too long. Jarena’s enthusiasm continued to grow as she warmed to the idea of the celebration. The men could set up tables down in one of the groves near the river, where the children could play games and swim, and the adults could eat and visit and rejoice. They would commemorate the emancipation, but they would also celebrate the enduring effort it had taken to survive their first winter on this untamed prairie. And they would celebrate their future. With God’s help, the town would continue to grow, and their farms would prosper. Yes, she would talk to the others come morning. Together, they would begin their own traditions in this new land they now called home.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to:
My husband, Jim—for everything
The stalwart pioneers who willingly sacrificed to settle the
Kansas prairie
The staff of the National Park Service, Nicodemus
Historic Site
The staff of the Kansas State Historical Society
Angela Bates-Tompkins
Deletria Nash
Books by Judith Miller
FROM BETHANY HOUSE PUBLISHERS
BELLS OF LOWELL*
Daughter of the Loom
A Fragile Design
These Tangled Threads
LIGHTS OF LOWELL*
A Tapestry of Hope
A Love Woven True
The Pattern of Her Heart
FREEDOM’S PATH
First Dawn
First Dawn Page 32