“Not at all.” She waved her hand at him. “That’s my standard joke.”
“Well, it brings up a valid point. Women have a different temperament than men, a different perspective on the world. It’s not about one sex being superior to the other. They’re just different.”
“Exactly,” she agreed. “You get it, Ben.”
“So I’ve been told,” he said with a smile. It was easy to catch on with such a charming teacher, he thought. She wouldn’t have much trouble winning them over. Even Lillian Warwick would eventually melt.
“I hear you’ve been at this church for a long time,” she said. “It must be hard to stay away, especially at Christmas.”
“It is hard. But I’m also relieved,” he admitted. “I’ve been feeling . . . overburdened lately.”
Ben paused. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted or even needed to reveal to Reverend Isabel. They had just met. But the truth was that he had not been facing Christmas in his usual, enthusiastic frame of mind. He could see that clearly now.
Was that because of my health, the undetected heart condition? Or was it simply minister burnout? Which happens to the best of us.
“It was probably my heart condition getting worse,” he concluded aloud. “That’s what the doctor said.”
“Probably,” she agreed. “It’s a busy time for a minister, the busiest of the year.”
“Yes, it is. But it’s also the heart of the church calendar, don’t you think?” He heard the wistful note in his own voice and was surprised. Though he was truly relieved to pass on these responsibilities, it was hard to hand the reins to someone else, especially after all these years.
Isabel smiled gently. “I agree. I think Christmas is the heart and soul of the church year. The story of the birth in the manger is so unimaginably deep and rich and full of meaning. I can’t think of anything else that speaks so beautifully of kindness and love and hope, and recognizing the divine in the most humble places. It would take a lifetime to talk about every layer and dimension. It’s so simple and apparent, yet also so mysterious.”
“Exactly,” he agreed heartily. “That’s exactly it.”
She would do fine. She could see the subtleties. That was so important. There were so many good, well-meaning ministers, he knew, who weren’t as sensitive or intellectually astute.
“Are there any topics in particular that you’d like me to touch on during the next few weeks? Or at least think about?”
He could think of many to suggest. He always planned his sermons well ahead, though he didn’t write them out that far in advance. But he tried to connect them, week to week, in each liturgical season, with an ongoing theme or lesson. His sermons for this Advent season and Christmas Day were already drafted. He could have easily asked Carolyn to bring in the folder from his study and hand it right over. He would know then that his flock would be well cared for, at least in that way.
But Ben held his tongue.
It wouldn’t be right to try to influence Reverend Isabel Lawrence’s sermons that way. It would be disrespectful for one thing, though it was kind of her to ask. She was an ordained minister, the same as he, and he’d found that the gifts of ministry were not necessarily richer according to a preacher’s age. Lately, he secretly worried about his own gifts. Was he getting stale and lackluster? Losing his spiritual and intellectual vigor?
It was only natural to feel that way in his condition. He was physically weak right now and wasn’t as mentally sharp as he could be. He would recover in body and mind . . . and in spirit, he reminded himself. But would he recover enough to lead the church again? The jury was still out on that question.
Ben turned his attention back to Isabel. “I don’t have any suggestions for you, but I’ll be looking forward to hearing your sermons. We record each service for the church archives. Even though I can’t attend for a few weeks, I’ll be there in spirit. And I’m going to listen, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. I hope you do. I’ll be interested to hear your reviews,” she gently teased him.
He thought she was sincere, not just saying that to be respectful. Ben had a feeling she wouldn’t be touchy if he disagreed with something she said. She seemed to welcome intellectual give-and-take. Isabel Lawrence didn’t seem even a tiny bit nervous to be dropped into this spot, facing a new congregation for the first time. He imagined himself in the same situation and knew that he wouldn’t be half as calm, at least not for the first service.
“So you’re not nervous at all about facing the congregation?” he had to ask.
“I’m looking forward to it. To me, a large part of being a minister is trying to bring my message to new people. Your congregation has enjoyed the benefit of your wisdom all these years, Ben. But they’ll be new to me,” she pointed out.
“That’s true. I didn’t think of it that way,” he said honestly. “I understand you’ve been doing service in a mission down in Haiti,” he said. “That must be very challenging work.”
“In some ways,” she agreed. “But in others it may be easier than ministering in a church like this one. It’s very hands-on,” she tried to explain. “Very action- and results-oriented.”
“Not as many committees and boards?” he prompted her.
“None at all,” she said wistfully. “Though I’ve served in a church like that as well,” she assured him, “as an associate minister back in Minnesota.”
“That’s good. Here, we have a board of trustees and a church council, who guide many of our decisions. But all the big questions must be decided by the entire congregation. Then, of course, there are the deacons,” he continued. “You’ll be working very closely with them, especially at this time of year. You’ve already met our head deacon, Tucker Tulley.”
“Yes, at the food outreach meeting. And his wife, Fran. They gave me a full tour of the church.”
“Tucker is very committed to our church. He’s been a member since . . . well, he was a babe in arms. Though I’m sure that’s hard to picture,” Ben admitted with a smile. “He’ll be a big help to you. If you have any questions or problems, he’s your go-to guy. And you can always call me. I’m not going anywhere for a while,” he added with a laugh.
“Thank you, Ben. I’m sure I will need your advice at some point. But the time will pass quickly,” she promised him. “You’ll be back in your pulpit before you know it. Think of me as just . . . just a bookmark, holding your place. You’ll step back in and go on with your story whenever you’re ready.”
Ben was touched by her kindness. Did he seem threatened by her taking over this way? He certainly hoped not. But he must have been projecting some concern. He did feel a certain sense of loss, now that they were face-to-face. At the same time, he felt so utterly relieved, handing over his responsibilities.
He was very conflicted. Maybe that’s what she sensed.
“So how’s it going?” Carolyn peeked into the living room.
“Fine, it’s going fine,” Ben replied, almost too heartily.
“Would anyone like coffee or tea? I can bring it in a minute,” Carolyn promised. “And some of Sophie Potter’s delicious meringue cookies.”
“Sophie heard I was permitted only low-cholesterol treats, but she was not daunted,” Ben told Isabel.
“They sound good, though I think I’ll pass today. I have to get going. We can meet again and talk more some other time, Ben. I don’t want you to overdo it.”
“Good point,” Carolyn said before Ben could reply.
His wife stood by his chair and rested her hand on his shoulder. She had been doing that a lot lately, needing to reassure herself that he was still there.
“Oh, I’m fine. But you must have things to do to prepare for tomorrow’s service,” Ben said, giving himself a graceful way out. The talking had tired him, but he was embarrassed to admit it. They had barely been visiting for half an hour. Was he that weak and frail?
Reverend Isabel rose and picked up her purse. “Yes, I’m still
unpacking and settling in. Mrs. Potter has invited me over for supper tonight, and I have some errands to do this afternoon, before it gets too late.”
“Are you still at Vera Plante’s place?” Carolyn asked.
“Yes, I am. It’s very comfortable. I don’t think I’ll look for an apartment or anything like that. I’ll be here such a short time, it doesn’t make sense. Besides, it’s nice to have some company and learn about the town. Vera is very helpful.”
Vera was undoubtedly helpful. But her talkative nature had driven away more than one boarder, Ben knew. In addition to her other fine qualities, Isabel was clearly blessed with an abundance of patience.
“So long, Ben. We’ll talk again soon.” Isabel leaned over and shook his hand again. Ben wanted to get up to say good-bye like a gentleman, but he couldn’t quite manage it unassisted and decided not to try.
“I hope so. Thanks for coming to see me, Reverend,” he said sincerely.
“Don’t even mention it. And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your congregation.”
“I know you will.”
While Carolyn showed her to the door and thanked her for coming, Ben sat alone in the living room and sent up a prayer of thanks.
Thank you, Lord, for sending such a wonderful minister to stand in my place. I couldn’t have imagined someone like her. Yet I feel as if she’ll bring some very special gifts to the church. Please bless her and help her in the weeks to come. And please help me heal, so that I can soon return, he added quickly.
But do I really want to return?
Whoa. He shook his head in amazement. Where did that come from?
He had been pondering retirement ever since the heart attack. Even before that, if the truth be told. He and Carolyn had even touched upon the subject again this morning.
He hadn’t made any decision yet. It was still too soon. But every time he did think of leaving his church, he had always worried about the minister who would follow and fill his place.
He didn’t consider himself irreplaceable. He knew that no one was, in any job, anywhere. But he had been at this church for such a long time. It was hard to picture someone good enough for these fine people, the members of his congregation who were such dear friends, some like family.
Then along came Reverend Lawrence. Not that she was staying for the long haul, mind you. But maybe God was trying to tell him something. To show him that there were many excellent young ministers out there who could take his place, all with unique gifts and talents. Talents different from his own.
I can handle this, Ben. Cast your cares, God was telling him. I can send someone who will work out perfectly.
God’s solution always surpasses anything we can bring about, or even imagine, in our limited minds, Ben knew.
So that worry, that obstacle to retiring . . . well, that one had been blown right out of the water by Reverend Isabel. And by the One above who sent her.
Now Ben sat and wondered if there might be other important reasons for him to return to the pulpit. As he leaned back in his armchair and closed his eyes for a short nap, none came to mind.
REGINA HAD NEVER MET SAM MORGAN, BUT SHE KNEW WHO HE WAS right away. He was a masculine version of his younger sister Molly—the same dark hair and blue eyes. The same sunny smile making her smile when she answered the door on Saturday afternoon.
“You must be Sam,” she said. She pulled open the door and stepped back so he could come in.
“You must be Regina. Nice to meet you.” He was a tall man, and she had to lean back a bit to look him in the eye.
“Nice to meet you, too. Richard’s out in the back. I’ll go get him.”
“That’s all right. I can find him. I’ll help him load the truck. It looks like we might need to make two trips.”
Richard had been working hard in his spare time to clean out the basement and the large freestanding garage, which was more like an old barn. He had collected a huge pile of unusable furniture and other unwanted old items. It would definitely be more than one load going to the dump.
Richard had asked Sam if he could borrow an old pickup truck they used at work to bring the stuff to the dump, and Sam had offered to help him cart it over. Regina hoped he wasn’t sorry now, seeing the size of the load. “My cousin was a bit of a pack rat,” she explained. “So now at least I know where it comes from.”
Regina had been tempted to go through the items just to check if there was anything worth saving. Her idea of “worth saving” and Richard’s were radically different. She often rescued broken things that needed a little glue or paint or a few stitches—then never got around to fixing them. Richard was decisive. He liked to get rid of clutter and half-broken objects. He threw out first, asked questions later.
It was best if she didn’t go near the stuff, Regina decided. She would probably try to save half of it.
“When you have a sentimental attachment to things, it’s hard to throw them out,” Sam agreed. “But it’s easy to throw out someone else’s old stuff. No memories, right?”
“Exactly,” Regina agreed. “It’s still a lot of work, though. Thanks for helping.”
“No problem,” Sam said. “I had to bring the truck over, anyway.” He headed for the door, and Regina closed it behind him.
Sam seemed like such a nice guy. She wondered if he and Richard might one day be friends. Once upon a time, she and Richard had a lively social life. But when their financial troubles started, their friendships seemed to dry up along with their bank account. They were embarrassed about their circumstances. It was easier to hide themselves away. It was hard to keep up relationships with people who were doing well when you were sliding further and further down a slippery slope of problems, problems that nobody wanted to know about. It was almost as if people thought they were contagious or something and didn’t want to catch this awful bug.
Richard said that was when they learned who their real friends were. The deeper relationships lasted. But there weren’t many, that was for sure.
Regina was cleaning the kitchen when Richard came in through the back door. She had seen from the window that the men hadn’t left yet, though the truck was packed and ready to go.
“Brian wants to come with me,” he said. “We won’t be gone long.”
“That’s all right. He’s getting bored around the house. Are you sure he fits?”
“There’s a small backseat in the cab with a seat belt,” he promised. “Madeline is out in the barn. She found a box of old clothes. It’s a real mess, but she won’t let me throw it out. Maybe you can persuade her and I’ll take it on the next trip.”
“Okay. I’ll go out and talk to her.”
“See you later.” Richard gave her one last long look, then left. Regina noticed that he didn’t try to kiss her good-bye, even on the cheek. There was a time when they wouldn’t leave each other for a few minutes without some sort of embrace or affectionate gesture. Now they were so distant from each other in every way. It made Regina feel sad and empty.
But she tried not to dwell on the problems in their marriage. She had to look on the bright side. They had this house, which was looking better every day. They both had jobs now, too. Maybe not their ideal jobs, especially for Richard. But there was more money coming in than they had seen in a while. Most of all, Regina thought, they had two wonderful children who were both healthy and settling down in their new schools.
I’m a lucky person, Regina told herself. Even if Richard and I do separate, I have a lot to be thankful for.
When Regina went outside, she found Madeline in the garage. She was pulling clothes out of a wooden crate, looking over the objects, and flinging them aside.
“Hey, what’s up? Are you helping Dad or making a bigger mess?” Regina asked in a mostly amused tone.
“I’m making sure he doesn’t throw away any good stuff,” her daughter insisted.
“Oh no, you’ve got the pack-rat gene.”
“Like Mr. Porter?” Madeline asked.
“And your mother,” Regina added. “What did you find?” She couldn’t help herself. She had to ask.
“Some really cool stuff. I found this shawl. It just has a little stain there, and the fringe needs to be sewed up a bit. But isn’t it pretty? I can hang it up in my room, on the wall.”
The shawl was pretty, Regina thought, fingering the silky fabric. It had a finely knotted fringe and a beautiful flowery pattern of cabbage roses on dark blue silk. “It’s beautiful, Maddy. Good find. I do see the stain . . . a watermark or something,” she added, pulling the fabric taut. “I’ll try some stain remover. We need to wash it, anyway. It smells really musty.”
“Yeah, it smells like a raccoon must have tried it on.”
Regina laughed at the image while Madeline kept rummaging. “What else did you find?”
“Some ice skates. They fit me, too. They just need the blades sharpened.”
“Really? That’s worth saving. Let’s make a pile for the good stuff.”
Madeline put the skates with the shawl on top of an old wooden table. Then she ran to another box, obviously encouraged.
“Look at this, Mom. Isn’t it pretty? I could use this to hold my jewelry—unless you want it for downstairs?”
Regina couldn’t even tell what Madeline was holding up, but from the tone of her voice, she didn’t want to part with it.
“That’s all right. Finders keepers.” Regina stepped closer to see that Madeline had discovered an old, carved wooden box. It was painted mustard yellow, with an old metal latch on the lid. “It looks intriguing. Keep it if you like it,” Regina said.
“I’m going to put it on my dresser. Hey, I wonder if there’s anything inside.” Madeline set the box on the table and opened the latch. Regina could tell from her disappointed expression that the box didn’t contain anything exciting.
“Just an old book.” Madeline took it out and set it on the table. “I’m going to clean out the box. It smells musty.”
“Don’t get the wood too wet. You don’t want to ruin it,” Regina warned.
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