No Distance Too Far

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Oh.”

  “Did you know Jeffers is back in town?” Joshua asked the group.

  “Not the imposter?” Haakan frowned.

  “No, the real Jeffers’ son who was here looking for his father. He’s thinking of moving to Blessing. Bringing his business here.”

  “Has he found out anything about his father?”

  “No. But not for lack of trying. Sure makes you wonder.”

  “Well, all I got to say is that imposter better never stick his nose back in Blessing.” Hjelmer set to sawing the end off one of the boards. “He wouldn’t have a nose for long.”

  “But what if he killed the real Jeffers to get his money?” Trygve asked as he slid his hammer into the loop on his tool belt and carried the board over to the side of the rig. “Things like that do happen, you know.”

  “And his identity?”

  Haakan shook his head. “There is probably some reasonable explanation.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll never know.”

  “I hope young Jeffers finds out what happened to his pa. Not knowing is an awful way to live,” Joshua said as he braced the board against the others and drove the first nail in. All those months he’d not known about his family. That was something he had to forgive himself for, not an easy task.

  “Thorliff will find out, you watch.” Trygve slammed a nail home. “I heard the dinner bell. Ilse was making beef potpie.”

  As the men headed for the house, Joshua kept thinking back to the conversation the night before. Was this what making friends felt like? He’d not had much time for friends since grammar school. Could friends be part of this new life of his? He glanced around at the men he was walking with. Or were they already?

  7

  ATHENS, GEORGIA

  What else struck you anew in the book of Matthew?” Rev. Thompkins asked as he looked out over his class, eyebrows raised.

  Astrid thought hard about the question. She’d reread Matthew again to see what else stood out.

  Dr. Gansberg raised his hand. “I guess I keep going back to the Sermon on the Mount. If we had no other Scripture, all that one needs to live the God kind of life is right there. People say they can’t understand the Bible, but Jesus laid God’s plan out very clearly, it seems to me.”

  “You are right, Dr. Gansberg. I’d like to suggest you take the reading one step further and memorize those chapters.” He looked around to include the entire class. “When we memorize the Word, the Holy Spirit can bring it back to our minds when we most need it. We can indeed feed on it as we are commanded over and over, especially in the Psalms. God’s Word is food for our souls and spirits, but more than that, the answers are there for us to live by.”

  Astrid thought back to all the verses Pastor Solberg had required them to memorize, how they had groaned and secretly complained. Someone had grumbled out loud once, and they all had to memorize Psalm 139. No one made that mistake again.

  “Something I have learned through the years is that the more Scripture I memorize, the more easily I learn other things. My mind is clearer, and I reason better,” Rev. Thompkins said, looking right at her.

  She leaned back in her chair.

  He smiled. “Try it; don’t take my word for it.”

  He might as well have said, “I dare you.”

  “You heard right. Memorize the entire Sermon on the Mount, and that’s just the beginning.”

  He pulled some folded papers out of his pocket. “This is what I do. I write the verses I want to memorize on papers to fit into my pocket, so when I have a few moments, I can pull them out and go over them. I break a chapter down into several sections and work on one at a time. I am always pleased when I realize how much I have accomplished, and rather painlessly as well. I was amazed at first when a teacher taught me this procedure.”

  “At least men have pockets,” Astrid commented before she caught the thought and stomped on it.

  The class chuckled. Mrs. Gansberg leaned forward. “By tomorrow you will have a pocket that can go with you everywhere, my dear.”

  When she turned to thank her benefactress, she caught a rolling of eyes and an exasperated look from one of the younger men, who often sat with young Highsmith. He’d remarked a few days ago about single women in the mission field being a liability because they’d need to have men around to protect them.

  Her thought then and now was that when that young man was injured or caught one of the deadly diseases, he might be really grateful to have a doctor near, even if she was female.

  God, I don’t want to have get-even thoughts like that. You said to take every thought captive unto Christ. How do I do that? They sneak up on me and get away before I have time to grab them.

  “Anyone else, what did you notice?”

  Astrid raised her hand, and at his nod, she said, “Many people were healed just by touching Jesus’ clothes. Often they didn’t ask or thank Him. Sometimes He didn’t even say anything. But the verses say many were healed.”

  “Interesting, isn’t it?”

  “Do you believe miracles like that go on today?” There. She’d voiced one of the things that bothered her. Was she alone in wondering this?

  “What does the Bible say about time and God?”

  “That time means nothing to Him.”

  Someone else added, “That He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.”

  “Another place says that God never changes.”

  “If that is true, what does it mean?” Rev. Thompkins locked eyes with her, but instead of intimidating her, she felt he really cared that she understand.

  “That if He cared for them before He will care for them now?”

  “You are correct.”

  “But then why don’t we see it?” Many times I did all I could and prayed and others prayed, and still the patient died.

  “All right, everyone open your Bibles to Matthew 17:19. What does Jesus say to His disciples when they asked Him why they couldn’t heal people or drive out demons?”

  “The Scripture says because of their unbelief.”

  “And how much faith did they need to cast the mountain into the sea?”

  “The size of a mustard seed.”

  “How big is a mustard seed?”

  “Very small.”

  He looked around the class. “I tell you that as God grows your faith, you too will see miracles. But you must have eyes that see and ears that hear.” He bowed his head. “Lord God, increase our faith that we may see you in action. Amen.” He smiled around the room. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Would you like to join us for a glass of iced tea?” Dr. Gansberg asked as they left the classroom. “We feel in need of a restorative.”

  “As do I.” Astrid pretended to mop her forehead. “I sure hope his promise of thinking more clearly because I am memorizing Scripture is valid and true. I can tell I need to know my Bible far better than I do.”

  “You think that might be one of the reasons why we are here?” Dr. Gansberg asked.

  His wife patted his arm. “Let’s get fortified before the discussion takes off again.”

  When they sat at a table, one of the students working there brought them glasses of sweet tea, as they called it. Astrid drank more than a sip, relishing the cold slipping down her throat.

  “You asked a question today that has bothered me ever since I started studying medicine,” Dr. Gansberg said. “Thank you for having the courage to ask.”

  “About the miracles?”

  He nodded. “I have seen people live, and I have seen people die, but no one has lived because he touched the hem of my coat. Never have I been able to say, ‘Take up your bed and walk. Your faith has made you well.’ Nor have I ever heard the blind rejoicing because now they could see.” He drew rings with his glass on the tabletop.

  Is there more that we don’t know or see? Of course there is. Dear God, how do we do the healing you said we should?

  She could hear Rev. Thompkins as if he were seated right th
ere at the table with them. “You will find the answers to any question in the Word of God.”

  “Thank you for the tea break. I need to go start memorizing.” Astrid pushed back her chair. “Thank you, both of you.”

  Back in her room she picked up her Bible, a tablet, and a pencil, adjourned to her shady nook, and turned to Matthew, chapter five. She read the chapter through, broke it down into sections, and started in. She read both silently and aloud, over and over again. She wrote out the blessing verses she had started with and then closed her eyes to see if she could brand the words on the backs of her eyelids. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy caught in her throat because of all she had grown up with in Blessing and all the healing God did through so many doctors and nurses. She paused to pray a word of thanksgiving, and time disappeared.

  When the bell from the brick tower above the chapel building chimed for supper, she tucked the paper into the waistband of her skirt. Pocket or no pocket, she was going to class tomorrow with a good part of that chapter in her mind.

  Along with a beginning list of questions to which she wanted answers.

  THAT NIGHT SHE took a deep breath and started a letter to Elizabeth, deciding to add more each day.

  Dear Elizabeth and Thorliff, and Inga too,

  I know you were terribly disappointed when I came here instead of back to Blessing. I hope that by now you have forgiven me and that you are both praying with me that I learn what God’s will is in all this. I keep reminding myself that two years will go by very quickly, and yes, I’m not really planning on anything until I know if I am approved or not.

  My favorite class is being taught by a returned missionary, Rev. Thompkins. His love for God just flows out of him, like it does from Pastor Solberg. He has challenged us to memorize the entire Sermon on the Mount and complete books of the Bible. It is a good thing that I memorize quickly. I think all my medical training helped with that.

  This campus is a lovely place, and I am so grateful for warm weather. I know Mor would be enthralled with all the blooming flowers and trees and bushes. Everything blossoms, and so many have wonderful fragrances.

  My big concern is finding something to do that uses what I have been trained for. A class on tropical diseases starts next week. Is it awful to say I am looking forward to that? More tomorrow. Back to memorizing.

  She looked at the letter. Maybe she should send this part first so that Elizabeth would hear her apology. No, I’ ll wait one more day.

  How strange it was not to be helping her mother with spring cleaning. Every year she had helped her mother scrub walls and floors, beat rugs, wash curtains and bedding, and wash the windows—if there wasn’t still frost on them. Funny . . . well, not funny but peculiar, for she never had cared much for all that cleaning. Of course it looked lovely when finished, but then the house wasn’t that dirty before they began. The Saturday before Palm Sunday everyone would be at the church, cleaning and polishing every inch. The thought made her more homesick than ever. What kind of weather were they having in Blessing? Why had no one written to her? Was everyone mad at her for not coming home?

  THEY HAD NO classes from Wednesday of Holy Week on. Many of the students who lived nearby had gone home for the entire week. Dean Highsmith had invited the remaining missionary students to join him and his wife for dinner after church on Easter Sunday.

  Astrid stared at her reflection in the mirror. She had no new bonnet or hat for Easter, nor a new spring or summer dress. Other years she and her mother had sewn new gowns for Easter. She’d thought to sew a new dress for Inga too. Had Mor done that? She just wasn’t getting enough news from home.

  On her way to the service, a thought struck. I can pick up a tele-phone and call Mor. Surely everyone will be at their house. The decision lent wings to her feet. Suddenly the need to hear her mother’s voice consumed her like flames devouring split wood. She silenced her thoughts as she entered the church.

  The pastor raised his voice when the organ silenced. “He is risen!”

  “He is risen, indeed,” responded the congregation. They turned the pages in their hymnals to the opening hymn. After the last hallelujah as the Easter story was read, Astrid felt as though she were one of the women running to the tomb. She could feel the shock of seeing the magnificent angel, the joy that Christ had indeed done what He’d said He would do—rise again, overcome death. Walk and talk with His disciples. Christ the Lord is risen today. Hallelujah!

  “This is the first time in my life that I am not at the church I grew up in for Easter,” she confided to the Gansbergs as they left the church. “We don’t have a fancy organ like this one or carved pews and carpet on the floor, but there is much love and rejoicing that we can celebrate together.” She paused for a moment. “I did love hearing the organ, however. I think heaven is going to sound like Easter Sunday all of the time.”

  Mrs. Gansberg put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “Astrid, you say the best things.”

  Astrid blinked back a quick onslaught of eye moisture. How she wanted to hug her mother. Far too. “I’m going to telephone my family after dinner. It will surely shock them, but I thought it would be a good idea.”

  “Your mother must miss you dreadfully.”

  But she would never complain. “My mother is my hero. No one could have a better mother than I have.”

  DEAN HIGHSMITH AND his wife were gracious dinner hosts, but Astrid couldn’t help thinking of home, where everyone would be gathered together after the Easter service, enjoying Mor’s cooking. A pang of homesickness hit her hard. She startled back to the conversation around her when she realized the dean’s nephew was speaking to her.

  “I still do not understand why a young female as yourself would want to go to Africa.” He stared at her with raised eyebrows.

  Astrid swallowed and made herself relax. “I think I have explained that this was not my idea but a calling from God. I am just praying that I heard Him correctly.” How she managed to smile at the pompous young man was beyond her. She kept a smile in place. “Maybe some things are not for us to understand but to seek and trust.” She glanced up to see Dean Highsmith covering his mouth with his napkin. Did he think this amusing?

  Glancing at the nephew, she knew he didn’t. Actually she wondered how he could swallow his food, his collar was so tight.

  “There is something I don’t understand.”

  He nodded, as if granting her permission to speak.

  “Why does my being here bother you so much?” There, she had put what had been bothering her right out in the open.

  His neck and shoulders stiffened. “I—I see it as a waste of resources.”

  “A waste?” She tipped her chin down and slightly to the side.

  “Yes. You are taking the place of a man to do this job.”

  “I see. And how many trained male doctors have applied since I did?”

  His eyes flashed. “That is beside the point.”

  “All right, children, this has gone far enough. I declare a moratorium on any further discussion. We will wait and see what God reveals to us, for we know and trust that He will do exactly that. As the Scripture says, ‘Be ready to answer when you are questioned.’ ” He raised a hand toward his sputtering nephew. “I know that was not a direct quote, but that was the meaning of the verse.” He laid his folded napkin beside his plate. “Let us adjourn to the veranda, where the dessert will be served.” He pushed back his chair and smiled at the others.

  On their way out, Astrid asked Dean Highsmith where there was a telephone she could use. He showed her to his study. “Use mine.”

  “How will I pay you?”

  “Let this be my gift to you.”

  “But—” As he raised his hand, she nodded. “Thank you. You are most generous.”

  When she heard Gerald Valders’ voice asking what number was wanted, she nearly burst. He didn’t need a number. He needed a name. “Ingeborg Bjorklund, please.”

  There was a pause.
“Astrid, is that you?”

  “It is indeed. Happy Easter, Gerald. Or should I call you Mr. Valders now that you are a papa?”

  “Oh, our Benny. What a gift you have given us. I will tell him I talked with his Doc Bjorklund, and he’ll shout and clap. Let me ring your house.” His chuckle tickled her ear.

  “Hello.”

  A boulder stopped in the middle of Astrid’s throat. She couldn’t force a word past it.

  “Hello?”

  “Mor, I—”

  “Astrid. Oh, thank you, God. Haakan, it is Astrid calling us. Happy Easter!”

  Astrid could hear shouting and laughing. Tears nearly blinded her. “Happy Easter, Mor!” Oh, Lord Jesus, I want to go home.

  “Where are you?”

  “I am at Dean Highsmith’s house. He invited all of us who stayed on campus to have dinner with him and his wife. I just had to hear your voice. I miss you all so much.”

  She could hear her mother sniffling. “I sent you a letter this week with all the news, but I forgot to ask you to send me some of my summer dresses. It is too warm here for wool skirts and long-sleeved waists.”

  “Ja, I will.”

  “Everyone is all right there?”

  “Elizabeth is not feeling well. She’s looking pale and tired all the time.”

  “Have you given her a going over?”

  “She keeps putting me off. Says she just needs more rest. I’ve been helping her some at the surgery.”

  “Spring coming will do us all a lot of good. You’ve had more snow?”

  “Ja, and freezing at night. But the sun is getting warmer. I am glad you are where it is warm and the sun shines.”

  “Thank you, Mor. I need to be going. I wish you could come and see the flowers. I sniff a different one for you every day. I love you.”

  “And I love you. Learn all you can.”

  Astrid hung up the receiver and wiped her eyes. What a marvelous invention to bring such joy across the many miles between home and Georgia. What could be wrong with Elizabeth? She was in great health when I left Blessing in August. Tired all the time, pale? So many things could start with those symptoms. She needed more information.