An Undaunted Faith

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “Tonight you will sleep in the loft with your cousins.” Aunt Esther’s tone left no room for questions or argument. Her dark-brown hair was tightly pinned into a bun, and wearing a plain brown dress with a tan apron pinned to its front, the older woman looked as drab as her surroundings. “Your uncle and I sleep on a pallet by the hearth.”

  “Yes, Tante. Takk—thank you. I am sure I will be very comfortable.”

  “Come, let us eat.” Aunt Esther walked toward the doorway. “I cook outside during the summer months.”

  Kristin nodded. She’d glimpsed the large pot dangling over the open circle of flames in the nearby yard. “I’ve prepared venison stew,” Aunt Esther continued.

  “It sounds delicious.” Kristin’s stomach growled in anticipation. She’d eaten very little on the ship this morning. Excitement plus the waves on Lake Michigan made eating impossible. But after disembarking in Green Bay, her stomach began to settle, and now she was famished.

  Aunt Esther called everyone to the table, which occupied an entire corner of the cabin. Her three children, two girls and one boy who ranged in age from seven to sixteen, came in from outside, as did the Olstads. After a wooden bowl filled with stew was set before each person, the family clasped hands and recited a standard Norwegian prayer…

  I Jesu navn gar vi til bords—We sit down in the name of Jesus,

  Spise drikke pa ditt ord—To eat and drink according to Your word,

  Deg Gud til are, oss til gavn—To Your honor, Oh Lord, and for our benefit,

  Sa far vi mat i Jesu navn—We receive food in the name of Jesus.

  “Amen.”

  Having said grace, hands were released, and everyone picked up a wooden spoon and began to eat. Kristin noticed her cousins, Inga and Anna, eyeing her with interest. They resembled their father, with blonde curls and blue eyes.

  “What do you like to do on sunny afternoons such as this one?” she asked cheerfully, hoping to start conversation. After all, Inga’s age was close to hers. Perhaps her cousin would help her meet friends.

  “We do not talk at the table,” Aunt Esther informed her. “We eat, not talk.”

  “Yes, Tante.” Kristin glanced at Peder and Mr. Olstad, who replied with noncommittal shrugs and kept eating.

  Silently, Kristin did the same.

  When the meal ended, the girls cleared the table and the men took young Erik and ambled outside.

  “May I help with cleaning up?” Kristin asked her aunt.

  “No. You rest today and regain your strength. Tomorrow we are invited to a wedding, the day after is the Sabbath. Then beginning on Monday, you will have chores like everyone else.”

  Kristin nodded. She’d expected that she would have to earn her keep somehow, and she certainly wasn’t afraid of hard work. However, her aunt’s brusque manner caused her to feel more homesick than ever. She missed her deceased parents and little brothers. Why did God take them, leaving her to live life without them? And Sylvia…how she missed her best friend!

  Walking to the other side of the cabin, Kristin opened her trunk and began sorting through her belongings. Had she made a mistake coming to America?

  Lord, I know You led me here…didn’t You? Weren’t those inner promptings from You?

  Tired from her travels and feeling more than a little discouraged, Kristin knelt by the trunk. Her fingers reverently glided over a soft knitted shawl that had once belonged to her mother. Lydia Eikaas had been an excellent seamstress, spinning the wool into yarn and thread, weaving and sewing garments, and she’d taught Kristin everything she knew about the craft. Surely Kristin could now put her skills to good use in this new country, this land of opportunity.

  She sighed and glanced over to where her aunt and two cousins were still busy straightening up after the meal. Inga and Anna barely smiled, and her aunt’s expression seemed permanently frozen into a frown. Is that what this country really afforded…misery?

  Allowing her gaze to wander around the dismal cabin once more, Kristin began to wish she had not come to America.