No Distance Too Far

by Lauraine Snelling

  “So will that be coffee or tea or lemonade?” He beckoned the young man over from the serving table. “Can we have our drinks outside on the veranda?”

  “Of course, Rev. Thompkins. I’ll bring them right out. You want cookies to go with that?”

  He nodded, thanked the student, and herded his three guests outside to a wrought-iron table with four chairs. Clusters of wisteria hung down from the trellis above, sweetening the air and luring the buzzing of honeybees.

  Astrid breathed in lungsful of the fragrant air. She glanced up at the purple blossoms, some with bits of white like a throat, all small blossoms that grew in clumps, much like she pictured grapes growing. “Do you think we could grow something like this in North Dakota?”

  Rev. Thompkins chuckled. “I don’t know, but it grows well in parts of Africa too.” He sat down and leaned back in his chair, all the time focusing on her. “So how do you feel your interview with the board went?”

  Astrid stared at him, eyes wide. Nothing like jumping right in. She looked to Dr. Gansberg, as if he could help her. Back to the reverend. To be honest or polite, which was it?

  “My mother would say that fine might fit here,” she said.

  “Fine?”

  “And what would you say?” Mrs. Gansberg asked in a gentle voice.

  In for a dime, in for a dollar. She had no idea where that old phrase came from, but it fit. “I get very tired of hearing that a young, unattached female would do better if she went home, found a man who wanted to be a missionary, and then came back. I didn’t ask to come here!” Her heart tempo kicked up as did her voice tempo. “If you remember, going to Africa was not on my wish list. I did not just wake up one morning and think, oh my, I want to go to Africa, where they have fierce wild animals, mean venomous snakes, and natives who really don’t like white people coming and telling them what to do.”

  “Not all feel that way,” a soft voice said, breaking in to her diatribe.

  “Well, maybe not, but the only one here who doesn’t seem to feel that way is being pretty silent, and He’s the one who started all this. If God’s not worried about this, then why are all those around me so concerned?”

  “Not all.”

  She heaved a sigh, a deep sigh that started in her toes and worked its way up, hopefully bringing along some of the baggage she’d been dragging around. Her eyes stung, and she sniffed. I will not cry now! She repeated the order and clamped her teeth. Anything to fight back the tears. This was not a crying matter. A man in these circumstances would not cry, so she would not either. “That’s true. Not all.” She sort of smiled at those around her.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Rev. Thompkins asked, leaning forward.

  “You ask the hardest questions.”

  “Simple and easy do not mean the same, do they? But to get to the bottom of things, you must always ask questions, ponder them, and ask more questions. Do you think God is upset if you ask questions?”

  Astrid thought about an answer. “Is asking questions doubting?”

  “What did Jesus tell Thomas?”

  “He held out His hands and said for Thomas to put his fingers in the scars and believe.”

  “Did He scold him? Mock him?”

  “No.” Astrid felt as though she needed to give more of an answer. She rubbed her lower lip between her teeth, eyes slightly squinted, all in the hope that an answer would come. The silence trembled on the edge of wisdom, as if far more than the teacher and the Gansbergs waited for the answer. Astrid sniffed and gave her teacher a steady look. “He loved him and was giving Thomas a chance to understand and to let his doubting go.” She nodded, feeling a smile coming on. “And Thomas fell on his knees and said, ‘My Lord and my God.’ ” Tears burned the back of her eyes and throat. Was that what God was doing with her? Giving her a chance to let go of her doubts and fears and worship Him? Just worship and love Him, as He loved her?

  “It’s not about Africa, is it?” Blinking did not suffice, and a tear trickled down her face.

  Her favorite teacher of all smiled much like she figured Jesus would smile. And waited.

  “It’s about my trusting Him, trusting He will lead me, no matter what those around me say?”

  Mrs. Gansberg leaned over and hugged her, whispering in her ear, “You are blessed to learn this as young as you are. Hang on to it.”

  Astrid nodded and blew out a breath that let her cheeks stretch and relax. With that action, she felt her neck and shoulders let go too, the warmth traveling up her head and down through the rest of her body. Hugs could be heavenly. She shook her head slowly because of its heaviness. “How come I am so blessed?”

  Rev. Thompkins gave her another of his Jesus smiles. “Because Jesus loves you. You are one of His chosen ones, and He has a very real and definite plan for your life.”

  “Plans for a hope and a future.” She finished the verse almost unconsciously, the words rolling through her mind.

  “Oh, there you are.” Dean Highsmith strode through the door. “I just wanted to tell you that the board approved you for a two-year mission in east Africa, starting with working at the hospital in Mombasa and then moving to work with Rev. Schuman as you are able.”

  Astrid stared up at him. Her tongue stumbled around the words that she couldn’t put in order. Her jaw dropped. “Really? You mean it?”

  The dean smiled and nodded. “Yes, I mean it.” He paused. “See? God triumphs. He brought you here for His purposes.”

  “Thank you.” If she weren’t sitting down already, she knew she’d have collapsed into the chair. She really was going to Africa. She sucked in a breath and blew it out. “When will I be leaving?”

  “You will finish your studies here, so take advantage of every minute of your remaining time. Then you will have the choice to go home for two weeks or not. But you will be leaving by the first of July. The Lord surely has His hand upon you, my dear.”

  “Dean Highsmith?” His assistant paged him from the doorway, and he excused himself and left.

  “Did a whirlwind just blow through here, or am I hearing things?” she asked her friends at the table.

  “You heard right, and we can’t be more happy for you.” Dr. Gans–berg patted her hand. “So then, we shall see you in Africa too. I will be serving at that same hospital for a couple of months to become acclimatized.”

  After the others had left, Astrid continued to sit out on the veranda, staring up into the clouds. Why did she feel as if she’d been run over by the westbound Great Northern train?

  15

  On the way back to her room to get ready for supper, Astrid stopped by the mailboxes and pulled out not one but two letters from her box. The one from her mor she slipped into her pocket; the other brought a smile as she studied Joshua’s handwriting. Since he wrote so seldom, each letter was a treat. How would he handle the announcement she would send out tonight? Would he wait for two years? Did she love him enough to marry him? Did she love him at all? Was this really the man God had in mind for her? Ah, so many questions. She shook her head slowly and walked down the hall back to her room.

  Once she was in a place where she could be alone, out on her veranda, she sat down in the wrought-iron chair, grateful for the magnolia-print cushion and the birds chattering in the trees above. Another sigh escaped, and she shook her head again. This must indeed be a sighing day, or perhaps week. She laid her letters on the table and, after staring at them for a bit, slit open the one from Joshua.

  Dear Astrid,

  Spring is beautiful, as always, on the prairie. The wild flowers are rampant, and the sun feels so good after the cold winter. I know that soon it will be so hot I will wish for fall, but today feels downright perfect.

  We are back on the road again. Drilling the wells and building the windmills is going just as we’d planned. We set a well and windmill south of Grafton for a farmer named Hiram Aarsgard, and I know he is going to brag to all his neighbors. His wife was so grateful, she nearly cried when
she realized that soon her pitcher pump would fill her sink with fresh, clear water.

  I think we take water for granted in our country. Pastor Sol-berg gave me a letter he received from Rev. Schuman in Africa. Over there whole villages die of cholera from drinking bad water. Why they don’t drill wells like we do, I’ll never understand. Two men could push the bar that drives the bit into the ground if they don’t have a mule. It isn’t expensive or difficult.

  Hjelmer and Mr. Geddick went off with the first shipment of goods to the Indian reservation that you asked us to take care of. They took the train as far as they could to speed up the trip. It is a good thing Samuel is there to help with the spring field work, along with Solem Brunderson. This way Gilbert and Trygve can work with me. They seem to like what we do as much as I.

  My basement is ready for pouring the concrete. I was hoping to have that done before I left, but I just plain ran out of time. Why is it that once spring pops in, the pace picks up speed like a runaway horse team?

  We had a sort of concert in church last Sunday. Johnny Solberg—I think I told you I’ve been giving him lessons on the guitar—and I played. Lars brought his fiddle too. Now, I know how much everyone loves the music at dances, but playing the hymns together brought tears to more than one pair of eyes. Johnny has a real true tenor voice and sings like angel. We kind of made up a song of our own and sang it then for the first time. I was so proud of him, I could have busted some buttons. I think Pastor Solberg probably did, and his wife used up two handkerchiefs.

  Well, the rain has stopped, so we can do some setting up for drilling in the morning. May our Lord keep you safe.

  Your friend,

  Joshua Landsverk

  Astrid stared at the page before folding it and slipping it back into the envelope. There was something different about this letter. She tapped the edge on her finger, hoping it would help her think it out. Maybe it was the sense that he seemed peacefully at home and part of the family in Blessing now. She laid the letter down and took up her mother’s.

  My dear daughter,

  I cannot tell you how much I miss you, and if it weren’t for little Emmy I might have gotten on that train and gone looking for you.

  Astrid put the letter down and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Oh, Mor, if only you had done that, I would have been so thrilled to see you. Astrid rolled her lips together. How would she bear being all that way from home, clear around the world? And now she knew that was exactly what was going to happen. Two years looked like a lifetime. Should she go home for a visit, or would that make leaving even more difficult?

  She picked up the letter again.

  We had an old Indian stop by the other day. Far says he thinks the man was here before, when Metiz was still alive. She interpreted for us then. Emmy knew him right away and ran to see him. I think he might be her grandfather, but I am not sure. Or an uncle. He thanked us for taking care of her. I was so afraid he was going to take her away, but he left her here. What a gift he had given us in this little girl. I know you will love her on sight. She was sad when he left but didn’t try to go with him. I know there is a story there, and perhaps one day we will find it out. We invited him to come again.

  Emmy is helping me plant the garden. She and Inga are great friends and a big help. Inga is here a lot of the time, which makes it easier for Elizabeth right now.

  So what is wrong with Elizabeth? Astrid scanned quickly through the remainder of the letter but nothing else was mentioned about her. Should she call? While this wasn’t an emergency . . . She tucked the thought away to mull over later. She read the rest of the Blessing news. Hjelmer should be back from the trip soon, and Mor was looking forward to his report.

  I wanted to go along, but since there is illness on the reservation, I didn’t want Emmy to be infected.

  What have you heard regarding Africa? I am still in a quandary over your possibly going there. I have to keep reminding myself that God is everywhere and when He sends someone out to serve His kingdom, He will protect my only daughter. I think of Samuel’s mother sometimes. She had to give her son up when he was small. How could she do that? Uff da. The girls are supposed to be asleep, but I hear giggling, so I will go check on them.

  I hope you always know how much I love you and miss you. Come home soon.

  Your mother,

  Ingeborg

  Astrid fought back the tears. Two years without seeing her family. What if her father had another attack and she wouldn’t be there to help? What if he died? Lord, I said I would go and I will, but right now I am having trouble with the joyful part. Please help me. She heard the bell ringing for supper so knew there wasn’t time to answer right then, but her evening would be given to letter writing.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” Peter said as they stood in line waiting to be served supper.

  “News sure gets around fast here. I didn’t think anyone else even knew yet.”

  “Well, I think it is wonderful that you have been approved and so quickly too. I hope it goes that way for me.”

  “Why would there be any question? You have good marks; you fit the criteria. You believe you have the calling.” Not like me—too young and female. The comments still rankled. How was she to get rid of them?

  “I hope so, but my father said he thought I should wait until I have some pastoral experience here in the United States. He once dreamed of going to China as a missionary, but it never worked out.”

  Astrid picked up her tray and carried it to an empty table. Peter followed her, not picking up on her wish to be alone, and they carried on a conversation over the meal. When he made a comment that made her laugh, Astrid had a thought that caught her by surprise.

  Why, he’s flirting with me. And lately she’d been admiring him. What was going on?

  “What are you doing this evening?” he asked as they put their trays on the counter.

  “Writing overdue letters,” she answered. “Why?”

  “I just thought you might like to go for a walk. For a change I have my homework caught up, and”—he grinned at her—“I’d like to get to know you better.”

  Astrid shook her head. “I really have to let my family know the news. Sorry.” She almost said, “Another time perhaps,” but then was glad she didn’t. Why his sudden interest?

  “I understand. See you tomorrow.”

  Astrid watched him walk off whistling, hands in his pockets. He became interested once he knew she’d been approved, she realized. Practical romance? She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be offended. With a sigh she slipped inside her room and, after turning on the gaslight on the wall, sat down to write her letters. Tonight they would be short.

  Dear Joshua,

  I enjoyed your letter that arrived today. I’m glad you are happy with what you are doing. I know having well water is a real joy. When I was really little, we had a shallow well. We pulled water up with a bucket, and then we had to strain it because it was often muddy. The deeper well with a pump got even better when Pa put up the windmill. It wasn’t that long ago that the windmill took over.

  I have been approved for a two-year medical missionary term and will be returning to Blessing for two weeks in mid-June. I hope you will be able to return to Blessing so that I get to see you before I leave. Sorry this is so short, but I have several other letters I have to write tonight too.

  Your friend,

  Astrid

  She put his name on the envelope and addressed it to the boardinghouse, where he’d picked up his mail before. Would it get to him if he was still off drilling? She shrugged and set the envelope aside. Then paused. Why didn’t it bother her that he might not get the letter or make it back to see her? Wasn’t love supposed to deepen when apart and not become indifferent? She sighed again. One answer given and another still a mystery. This learning to trust God was sure an up-and-down adventure. On to the next.

  After writing to her parents, Astrid wrote to Elizabeth next and then Dr. Morganstein.
r />   Dear Dr. Morganstein,

  Today I have received final approval for a two-year mission term to Africa. There has been discussion regarding my age, my gender, and my marital status. As you can guess, this has not been easy. I will go home for two weeks and then return to leave around the first of July. I will be assigned to a large hospital in east Africa for a while, no specific time, and then hopefully serve out in the bush, as they call the remote villages, with Rev. Schuman, the man who started all this.

  I am wondering if you would be willing to send me, at this address, some medical equipment and supplies. Anything you could spare would be greatly appreciated. I have heard that the shortages of basic things like antiseptics and bandages are appalling. I want to make sure I have plenty of quinine for myself so that I do not succumb to malaria. Since I hope to be sent out to the bush, I will need surgical equipment too.

  I hope this isn’t too much to ask. Please forgive my boldness. Right now my mind is racing with all that I need to accomplish before I leave. Thank you in advance for any help you can give me. Oh, I was wondering too if you know of someone else I can contact with this request?

  I remain in your debt,

  Dr. Astrid Bjorklund

  Astrid fell asleep thinking of mosquito netting and a long voyage by ship. What would she do during all that time at sea?

  ———

  A RAIN CLOUD decided to sit right over their heads the next day, causing the students and faculty to hurry between buildings with their umbrellas held high. Water ran off the roofs and down the long heavy chains that directed it to run into the underground lines to carry it away. Astrid thought of the rain barrels at home that would be set to catch all this wealth of water. They always washed their hair with the fresh water in the rain barrels because it smelled so sweet and came squeaky clean.

  Rev. Thompkins stood before his class, smiling and greeting them as they came through the door.