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Authors: Kelly O'Connor McNees
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the wind like a woman stretching this way and that before rising from bed, saw a cow and heard the low clank of its bell as it ambled over the clover. A room—rooms!—of her own, not in the bowels of the house but upstairs , with, perhaps, a window or two through which she could watch the sun rise as it smeared the sky with color. Though she now spoke English well, Elsa retained a foreigner’s insight into the language, the ability to see words from the outside, and she thought now that even the name of the place suggested plenty: Nebraska sounded like basket , something you might fill with food.
But, still, Elsa hesitated. To allow herself to want a thing, even a thing so small as a housekeeping position on a western farm, was dangerous. Because in wanting, Elsa had come to believe, one separated herself from the Lord. Longing revealed a lack of trust, posed an impertinent question: Had the Lord thought of everything, or had he forgotten to account in his plan for this particular servant? Who was Elsa to suggest to God what he might do for her?
She wrote back to Mr. Schreier on the blank back side of his letter. In tiny, careful script she thanked him for his offer and asked for a broom, two washtubs, five cakes of soap, and a good wire brush. Her pen hovered over the page as she thought about what else to say. He wanted to know that she spoke English well and she wanted to show him. So she continued by writing,
I came to America in 1833 with my mother’s sister, after the death of my parents. Our ship was held because of fear of cholera (though it was never found on board) for six weeks in Quebec. This delay would have been unbearable but for an Englishman on board who brought with him a trunk full of, not linens or clothing, but books. This man was very kind to the children. I believe he was a teacher or minister of some kind, and he organized a little classroom for those people who wanted to learn English. I hope you will not think it prideful of me to say that learning came easily to me, for I believe glory for all that is good in the old and new worlds belongs to our Lord. By the time the ship finally arrived in New York Harbor I could write very well and speak a little. My teacher presented me with an English Bible as a gift when we disembarked, and I keep it with me always.
Yours in Christ,
Elsa Traugott
Elsa put the letter in her boot, carrying it with her for three days before she could make up her mind about sending it. The way she saw it, she was sinning on at least two fronts. It was prideful to believe that she could manage Mr. Schreier’s household better than any of the other women Elsa imagined must be clamoring for the position. But worse still was the dark thing unfurling its tentacles inside her. She wanted desperately to leave New York and start again in this new place, wanted to claim the fresh air and open space for herself, for her own comfort and enjoyment. Surely the Lord was closer at hand in the wide open wilderness of Nebraska than he was in Manhattan City’s crowded and filthy streets. Without Miss Bixby’s help, Elsa couldn’t imagine how she might make such a journey. Yet if this longing wasn’t the sin of avarice, Elsa couldn’t imagine what was.
Was it wrong to mail the letter? She felt she should let the Lord decide, but neither action, mailing the letter or not mailing the letter, seemed neutral, each one promising to initiate an effect. The longing clanged on in her chest like the bell that swayed beneath the neck of Mr. Schreier’s cow, and when she could no longer bear to wait, she posted the letter.
Rowena recognized her father from behind. His fan of stiff white hair was unmistakable. He sat very still on the bench gazing out at the water, where a flock of gulls plunged toward the surface in a symmetrical formation, then scattered suddenly to contentious, screeching independence. Rowena cut a wide arc around the side of the bench to approach her father from the
But, still, Elsa hesitated. To allow herself to want a thing, even a thing so small as a housekeeping position on a western farm, was dangerous. Because in wanting, Elsa had come to believe, one separated herself from the Lord. Longing revealed a lack of trust, posed an impertinent question: Had the Lord thought of everything, or had he forgotten to account in his plan for this particular servant? Who was Elsa to suggest to God what he might do for her?
She wrote back to Mr. Schreier on the blank back side of his letter. In tiny, careful script she thanked him for his offer and asked for a broom, two washtubs, five cakes of soap, and a good wire brush. Her pen hovered over the page as she thought about what else to say. He wanted to know that she spoke English well and she wanted to show him. So she continued by writing,
I came to America in 1833 with my mother’s sister, after the death of my parents. Our ship was held because of fear of cholera (though it was never found on board) for six weeks in Quebec. This delay would have been unbearable but for an Englishman on board who brought with him a trunk full of, not linens or clothing, but books. This man was very kind to the children. I believe he was a teacher or minister of some kind, and he organized a little classroom for those people who wanted to learn English. I hope you will not think it prideful of me to say that learning came easily to me, for I believe glory for all that is good in the old and new worlds belongs to our Lord. By the time the ship finally arrived in New York Harbor I could write very well and speak a little. My teacher presented me with an English Bible as a gift when we disembarked, and I keep it with me always.
Yours in Christ,
Elsa Traugott
Elsa put the letter in her boot, carrying it with her for three days before she could make up her mind about sending it. The way she saw it, she was sinning on at least two fronts. It was prideful to believe that she could manage Mr. Schreier’s household better than any of the other women Elsa imagined must be clamoring for the position. But worse still was the dark thing unfurling its tentacles inside her. She wanted desperately to leave New York and start again in this new place, wanted to claim the fresh air and open space for herself, for her own comfort and enjoyment. Surely the Lord was closer at hand in the wide open wilderness of Nebraska than he was in Manhattan City’s crowded and filthy streets. Without Miss Bixby’s help, Elsa couldn’t imagine how she might make such a journey. Yet if this longing wasn’t the sin of avarice, Elsa couldn’t imagine what was.
Was it wrong to mail the letter? She felt she should let the Lord decide, but neither action, mailing the letter or not mailing the letter, seemed neutral, each one promising to initiate an effect. The longing clanged on in her chest like the bell that swayed beneath the neck of Mr. Schreier’s cow, and when she could no longer bear to wait, she posted the letter.
Rowena recognized her father from behind. His fan of stiff white hair was unmistakable. He sat very still on the bench gazing out at the water, where a flock of gulls plunged toward the surface in a symmetrical formation, then scattered suddenly to contentious, screeching independence. Rowena cut a wide arc around the side of the bench to approach her father from the
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