Mary’s eyes twinkled. “I’d love to—in honor of a soul set free. Nothing makes me happier.”
Chapter 25
MARY SAT AT THE TABLE while Violet brewed the tea and set out a plate of oatmeal cookies she’d baked earlier that week. “Tell me about your work,” Violet said as they waited for the tea to steep.
“We landed in Juneau on a cold, rainy evening in November of 1917 and started a mission for all the transient workers there. The winter of 1919-20, Juneau was hard-hit by the flu epidemic. Many parents died, leaving so many orphans that we started a children’s home too. A couple of older ladies have been taking care of the home and the mission since January when we were called away to minister in Klukwan last winter. With the Tlingits all out fishing now, we’re headed back to our work in Juneau.”
Hearing about the children’s home caused a lump to form in Violet’s throat. She swallowed hard. “Even though my parents have been gone for years, I still miss them. I would have been sent to an orphanage if my aunt and uncle hadn’t taken me in. I can see how much you love the children in your care. The institutions in Boston weren’t known for their charity.”
Violet poured the fragrant tea into the china cups and set one in front of each of them. She passed the sugar bowl to Mary.
“Thank you, but no. I don’t need sugar when I have sweets.” Mary’s face lit up as she bit into one of the cookies. “Oh, these are good.” She sipped her tea and set the cup gently back in the saucer. “You know, Violet, Daniel and I didn’t come to Whitehorse just to see the sights. We felt God urging us to come, that someone here needed spiritual help.”
Startled, Violet sputtered and set her cup down.
“Me?”
Mary smiled. “Yes, dear, I think you are the reason we had to come. We didn’t have the funds to make the trip, but a businessman bought our tickets. He even delayed moving into his new house for a week so we’d have a place to stay.” Mary took a sip of tea. “We’ve been here nearly a week, holding services at the Indian village, but we felt there was someone in particular we needed to meet in Whitehorse.”
Violet’s heartbeat quickened, and she listened with bated breath.
“Yesterday, as we ventured down the street from the house where we’re staying, we came upon the cemetery. A woman was tending a gravesite, and we wondered if she was the one. But all of the infants’ graves distracted our attention. By the time we looked up, she’d gone.” Mary reached out and laid her hand on Violet’s arm. “That’s when we noticed the white marble shaft marking your baby’s grave. Our hearts broke when we read the dates.”
Violet’s eyes filled as Mary continued. “From the cemetery, we walked down another street—your street. When you called to us, we both felt you were the one we were looking for. Then you introduced yourself, and your name matched the one on the infant’s grave. We knew for certain.”
“God sent you to me?” Violet swiped at her eyes. “But why?”
“To show you how much He cares.”
“Wow!” Silently, Violet contemplated that for a few moments. God loved her enough to send someone to help her? “While you were here last evening, I remembered a verse John liked to quote, ‘All things work together for good to those who love God.’”
“‘ . . . to those who are the called according to his purpose.’” Mary completed the verse.
“Last night, that verse made me angry because God didn’t do that for me. I loved God, yet Elizabeth and John are both dead. That’s certainly not good.”
Mary opened her pocketbook and took out a tiny, black leather-bound New Testament. “I want to show you something. Read the verse that follows Romans 8:28.” Mary handed the book to Violet.
“Verse 29?” At Mary’s nod, Violet read, “‘For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren.’” Puzzled, she handed the book back to Mary. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
“God’s plan for those who accept Christ as their Savior is that they become more and more like His Son. Trials and heartaches come to all of us, but God can use them to ‘conform us to the image of Christ,’ in other words, to make us more like Christ—if we let Him.”
Violet still felt skeptical. Mary set the testament on the table. “I grew up in Pennsylvania in Amish-Mennonite country. They have a saying, ‘Storms make a strong tree.’ In the same way, trials can make us stronger Christians.”
“So you’re saying that good comes from our troubles when we allow them to make us stronger Christians?”
Mary nodded. “Hardships come to everyone. That’s life. But we have a choice—to allow them to make us bitter or to make us better. Bitterness will eat you alive. You have to root it out. You’re a gardener. You know you have to pull weeds out by the roots, or they’ll grow right back. It’s the same with bitterness. Destroy it, or it will destroy you.”
“I don’t like the way my life has been these last few years.” Violet sighed. “I don’t want to feel this way, but how do I root it out?”
“Wanting to get rid of it is the first step. You get what you choose . . . in this life and in the next—healing and forgiveness, or bitterness and alienation from everything good. It’s up to you, but you need God’s help. Ask Him to remove all the anger from your heart.”
Violet let that thought sink in. “Okay, from now on, I’m going to think of myself as a tree being strengthened by the storms of life and allow God to make me better.”
“That’s good. When we focus on ourselves, we get bitter.” Mary tapped the New Testament. “Instead, if we concentrate on God and His Word, our troubles can make us better. When bad thoughts come into our mind, we don’t have to latch onto them. We can replace them with the Word of God.”
As they talked a while longer, Mary’s face suddenly lit up. “Violet, I have an idea.” Her voice became more animated, but she caught herself and added softly. “At least it’s something for you to think about.”
Violet hesitated a moment before nodding. What could Mary be thinking? “Okay. I’m listening.”
“Would you consider moving to Juneau to work with us in our children’s home?”
“Me?” Violet’s eyes flew wide open. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Mary began to count off on her fingers. “You’d be a natural. You’d understand what the children are going through as no one else can because you’ve been in their shoes. As a teacher, you could help them with their school lessons. And I know they’d love you. You’d have a ready-made family. Maybe they’d help fulfill your longing for children.”
Violet brightened at the thought, until her heart constricted. “But . . . no. I’m afraid to love anyone.” She swallowed hard. “Everyone I love dies. It’s too painful to risk that again.”
“You’re right. To love is to risk loss and pain—in fact, the greater the love, the greater the pain.” Mary closed her eyes briefly, to breathe a prayer, Violet suspected. Then she picked up her New Testament and held it up as though to make a point. “Did you ever think about this? When Jesus died on the cross, He took a huge risk.”
“Really?” Violet tried to hide her skepticism, but her eyebrows lifted. “How?”
“He had no guarantee that any of us would love Him in return.” Mary paused to let that sink in. “Aren’t you thankful He took the risk?”
Violet realized Mary was right and slowly nodded in agreement.
“But, dear, to truly live, you too must take the risk of loving others again. If you don’t give and receive love, you’ll shrivel up and die inside. Aren’t you glad you had John for three years to love? Don’t you think it was worth the risk?”
“When you put it that way, I’d have to say yes.” Her voice wobbled with emotion. “I wouldn’t trade those three years for anything.”
Mary smiled. “I thought you’d say that. Don’t you think it’s time to risk loving again?”
“You’ve given me a lot to consider. Do
you need an answer right now?”
“Oh no, dear, take your time. Pray about it. I’ll give you our address. You can write and let us know. In any event, let’s keep in touch.”
They exchanged addresses. Finally, Mary stood. “I’d love to stay and talk more, but Daniel is expecting me to meet him so we can go to the Indian village for a children’s service this afternoon. Maybe the next time you go south, you could stop over in Juneau and visit.”
“Perhaps I will.” Violet stood too. “Thank you so much for coming. You’ve helped me more than you know.”
Mary drew her into a hug. “Let me say again, Violet, life has thrown the works at you, but always remember, God loves you and wants the best for you.”
“I think I understand that now.” Violet’s voice trembled. “Thank you.”
Violet stood inside the screen door of the porch and watched Mary walk down the path. When she reached the end, Mary turned and waved before continuing on.
Sitting in her favorite rocking chair, Violet ruminated on all that Mary had said. She breathed in the fresh, sweet air. For the first time since John’s death, she felt her heart throb with renewed life.
Violet didn’t see the Penningtons again, but she carefully considered Mary’s suggestion, weighing all the pros and cons. Moving to Juneau would be a major life change. Could she afford it? The children’s home was a faith endeavor. She’d have no regular salary. She’d have to sell her house and quit her teaching job in Whitehorse. How soon could her principal find a replacement for her? She prayed for the Lord’s direction.
Sunday morning, she went to church for the first time since her baby’s funeral. She dressed carefully in her only summer suit in a clear navy blue and added a lacy jabot at the neck of her best cream-colored silk blouse. As she pinned on the now unadorned white straw hat she’d worn for her wedding, she had to fight back memories of John. How she missed him! But nothing would keep her from carrying through on her plans for her new life.
As she entered the sanctuary, people greeted her cordially, but she could tell they spoke cautiously, not sure what to say or how she’d react to their words. When she responded with a smile, she noted their expressions of surprise, but that no longer bothered her.
As the weeks passed, everyone relaxed, and she enjoyed the renewed fellowship. Instead of avoiding conversation when she shopped or ducking down another street when she saw someone coming toward her, she deliberately contrived to interact with people. She accepted invitations to tea with lady friends or to birthday parties, and even invited friends to her house. But she still kept her distance from the many single men looking for wives in the Yukon.
On the third anniversary of Elizabeth’s birth toward the end of July, Violet awoke feeling melancholy. She skipped her morning devotions for the first time since Mary’s visit and didn’t feel like eating, either. Except for visiting her daughter’s grave, she stayed in all day, wallowing in her misery.
The evening was overcast and cool, so Violet lit a fire in the fireplace. As she sat in the cushioned armchair facing the heat, her feet propped up on an ottoman, feeling sorry for herself, her eyes happened upon a simple motto. In the weeks after Mary’s visit, she had cross stitched a flourishing oak and the words, “Storms make a strong tree,” framed it, and set it up on the mantel.
As she sat forward and studied the saying, Mary’s other words popped into her mind: “better not bitter”—two words so similar yet diametrically opposed in meaning. If she took the I out of “bitter” and changed it to an E, she’d get “better.”
How quickly she’d forgotten! That’s what she needed to do. She’d been focusing on herself too much. To feel better, she needed to stop rehearsing how bad she felt and concentrate on God’s message of love to her in the Bible.
Violet breathed a prayer for help to arrest her negative thoughts. “Replace them with God’s Word,” Mary had said. Picking up her Bible from the end table, she opened to the chapter she should have read that morning, Revelation Chapter 3. She began to read but stopped at the words, “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock. If anyone hears my voice, and opens the door, I will come in to him, and sup with him, and he with me.”
She laid the Bible in her lap and prayed, “Lord, I’m sorry I didn’t invite you in this morning, today of all days when I need You the most. Please come in now.”
Clean winds blew through her soul. Sweet, fresh air brought a rush of relief. She could have laughed or sung. Instead, she wept, silent tears streaming down her cheeks as she took herself off the throne of her life and handed control to the King of kings. She was created to glorify Him in whatever way He saw fit. It was not up to her to question God, only to accept what had happened and to obey Him.
Amazing how changing her thought patterns helped her to feel better!
She recalled Mary telling her something that Martin Luther was alleged to have said concerning temptation: “You can’t keep the birds from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building a nest in your hair.” She laughed at the image.
Melancholy thoughts might come again. But to be sure they didn’t bring her crashing down, she made up her mind to pay closer attention to her thought life. She grabbed her tablet and pen from her desk and jotted down appropriate Bible verses to memorize so she could quote them in place of dwelling on negative thoughts that might “fly over her head.”
The next day, Violet made reservations for a trip to Seattle to visit John’s parents before school would start again in the fall. She’d visit the Penningtons on her way south.
Chapter 26
A FEW DAYS LATER, VIOLET boarded the White Pass train for Skagway. There, she renewed her friendship with Brother Paul and Dorothy. When she entered the mission that evening for the service, they immediately rushed over to greet her with hugs and expressions of delight.
She had sent a wire to the Penningtons that she would visit their children’s home during the steamer’s layover in Juneau. The next day, Daniel and Mary stood waiting on the dock as she walked down the gangplank. Daniel shook her hand, and Mary pulled her into a big hug. “I’m so glad you came.”
“The car is right over here.” Daniel led the way across the dock to a black Model T touring car parked beside the plank sidewalk.
As the auto headed up a steep street that climbed the lower section of the mountainside to which Juneau clung, Violet recognized the streets she had walked with John whenever they traveled through Alaska’s scenic capital. A pang of grief knotted her throat until it ached. Even here, she could not escape the sense of loss that overwhelmed her in unexpected moments.
She would not dwell on her feelings. No, she would look to the future. “This is the first time I’ve come this far up the hill in Juneau.” Her voice trembled, but it smoothed out as she continued. “I’m glad I don’t have to climb it on foot. I’d be huffing and puffing.”
“You get used to it.” Mary turned her head to look at Violet in the back seat. “It took me a while, but now I can walk up as easily as on the level.”
Violet’s gaze swept across the majestic panorama unfolding above the buildings as they drove past. “What a beautiful setting for a town! With the mountains looming so close, do you ever feel hemmed in?”
“Our first winter here, coming from the farmlands of Pennsylvania, I felt like a fly in a sugar bowl.” Mary raised her hand over her head. “Twenty feet of snow fell that winter.”
“Twenty feet? That’s way more than we ever get in Whitehorse.”
“That was more than usual here too, but we’ve grown to love Juneau.” After a few blocks straight up through the heart of the town, Daniel turned left and drove along a narrow street that followed the curve of a bowl-shaped valley. A rushing creek flowed out of it. “Gold Creek—where the first gold nuggets were found here,” he said.
Violet gestured toward the mountains across the channel. “I see most of the snow is gone from the peaks now.”
“Yes, but soon the termination dust w
ill begin to creep back down the mountainsides as winter approaches,” Daniel said.
Violet laughed. “I think the first snow on the peaks looks like powdered sugar.”
Mary’s thoughts had traveled a different path. She began to quote what Violet recognized as Psalm 121: “‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills—from whence comes my help? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.’ That’s what the mountains remind me of—God’s strength and protection.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way before, but yes, I like that.” Violet fell silent. One’s perspective on obstacles in life certainly affected one’s outlook. From now on, she would try to discover positive outcomes when difficulties came her way.
After a few more blocks, Daniel pulled over in front of a cheery, wood-frame house set among the trees above the street level. Larger than any others Violet had seen in Juneau so far, the house with its yellow exterior trimmed with white appeared freshly painted. Lacy white curtains swagged in the windows.
“Here we are.” Mary led the way as they exited the car and climbed stone steps into a small clearing surrounding the house. The tiny yard had a wooden, hand-built swing set on one side. Pansies and nasturtiums bloomed on either side of the steps that led to the front door.
Immediately, they were surrounded by children of various nationalities from the fairest blond, blue-eyed Scandinavians to black-haired, dark-eyed Natives and Filipinos, all clamoring for attention. “These are our children.” Mary’s face beamed with love and pride.
Violet smiled and nodded. The children looked happy, clean, and well-fed. As they announced their names, she repeated them and patted the heads of those nearest to her.
An aristocratic-looking woman with her graying hair pulled back into a bun and wearing a full-length apron over her dress opened the door.
“This is our coworker, Mrs. Calebrand,” Mary said. “We’d be lost without her.”
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