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Authors: Janette Oke
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wouldn’t be quite so hard for Uncle Charlie—especially after my Sundays with little Sarah!
After a while I unobtrusively left the dining room and wandered down to the room that had been mine for so many years. The door was open, and it sure looked different. Aunt Lou had everything so neat and tidy, with new curtains on the window—white and frilly, not the kind of curtains a boy would have enjoyed. I had preferred my old tan ones, but these did look real nice. Little throw cushions were propped up against the pillows, too. I would have found them to be a nuisance.
I stood there for a few minutes looking around me and thinking back over the years; then I reached out with a toe and pushed the door shut. I knelt by the bed. “Father,” I began, “you know how I feel about Camellia, and how sorry I am for Mrs. Foggelson. Well, I’m too angry right now to pray for Mr. Foggelson, but I do want to ask you to take care of Camellia and bring her into a relationship with Jesus… .”
As I prayed for Camellia and her mother, my anger began to subside, and I began to realize how wrong my own attitude had been.
“Lord, Mr. Foggelson is a possessive and selfish man, and he’s done some terrible things to his family. But I guess he needs you about as much as anyone I know. Help him find you too, Lord—and help me forgive him.”
By the time I finished praying, I could think of the Foggelsons without feeling that turmoil of anger inside.
I rose and left the room, peeking into Aunt Lou and Uncle Nat’s bedroom, where little Sarah now slept peacefully in her crib. She looked sweet, one little hand clutching the edge of her blanket and the other curled up into a tiny fist by her cheek. Her soft lashes against the pinkness of her skin looked so long and thick. Her hair, a little damp, curled closely to her tiny round head. It was getting lighter in color all the time; eventually it might be the same color as Aunt Lou’s.
I reached down and smoothed out her blankets, then stroked the top of her head. She didn’t even move. When Sarah slept, she really slept. Aunt Lou was thankful for that. There were many interruptions in the parsonage, and if the child had been a light sleeper, she might have never gotten a decent rest.
I heard stirring in the kitchen then and I knew that Grandpa and Uncle Charlie were preparing to leave for home. I whispered a few words to the sleeping baby and went out to get the team while they said their goodbyes.
C HAPTER 9
Winter
I WAS KEPT SO BUSY that fall that I scarcely had time to miss Willie and Camellia. It seemed that I should have been in about three places at one time. There was so much to do, and only Grandpa and I to do the farming.
Grandpa had slowed down a lot, too. I hadn’t realized until I was working with him just how difficult it was for him to put in a full day’s work at the farm. I should have never left them alone while I went to school in town; I should have been there sharing in the responsibility. Maybe then things wouldn’t have gotten so far behind.
But inwardly I knew that they never would have agreed to my staying at home. Even now, comments were made about my “calling” and I was reminded that I was not to hesitate when I felt God was prodding me on to what I “really should be doing” with my life.
I asked myself fairly frequently if I felt Him prodding, but I also found myself bargaining with Him.
“Can I wait, Lord, until I get the pasture fence mended?” I’d pray. “God, would you give me enough time to get in the crop?” And each time I asked His permission, I felt like I got His nod of approval.
Uncle Charlie’s washing machine arrived in mid-October. I hadn’t realized how much it meant to him until I watched him grinning as he uncrated it. He stroked the wringer lovingly, then gave it a few cranks and grinned some more. It was going to be a good investment.
The weather didn’t cooperate that fall. The fields would dry just enough for
After a while I unobtrusively left the dining room and wandered down to the room that had been mine for so many years. The door was open, and it sure looked different. Aunt Lou had everything so neat and tidy, with new curtains on the window—white and frilly, not the kind of curtains a boy would have enjoyed. I had preferred my old tan ones, but these did look real nice. Little throw cushions were propped up against the pillows, too. I would have found them to be a nuisance.
I stood there for a few minutes looking around me and thinking back over the years; then I reached out with a toe and pushed the door shut. I knelt by the bed. “Father,” I began, “you know how I feel about Camellia, and how sorry I am for Mrs. Foggelson. Well, I’m too angry right now to pray for Mr. Foggelson, but I do want to ask you to take care of Camellia and bring her into a relationship with Jesus… .”
As I prayed for Camellia and her mother, my anger began to subside, and I began to realize how wrong my own attitude had been.
“Lord, Mr. Foggelson is a possessive and selfish man, and he’s done some terrible things to his family. But I guess he needs you about as much as anyone I know. Help him find you too, Lord—and help me forgive him.”
By the time I finished praying, I could think of the Foggelsons without feeling that turmoil of anger inside.
I rose and left the room, peeking into Aunt Lou and Uncle Nat’s bedroom, where little Sarah now slept peacefully in her crib. She looked sweet, one little hand clutching the edge of her blanket and the other curled up into a tiny fist by her cheek. Her soft lashes against the pinkness of her skin looked so long and thick. Her hair, a little damp, curled closely to her tiny round head. It was getting lighter in color all the time; eventually it might be the same color as Aunt Lou’s.
I reached down and smoothed out her blankets, then stroked the top of her head. She didn’t even move. When Sarah slept, she really slept. Aunt Lou was thankful for that. There were many interruptions in the parsonage, and if the child had been a light sleeper, she might have never gotten a decent rest.
I heard stirring in the kitchen then and I knew that Grandpa and Uncle Charlie were preparing to leave for home. I whispered a few words to the sleeping baby and went out to get the team while they said their goodbyes.
C HAPTER 9
Winter
I WAS KEPT SO BUSY that fall that I scarcely had time to miss Willie and Camellia. It seemed that I should have been in about three places at one time. There was so much to do, and only Grandpa and I to do the farming.
Grandpa had slowed down a lot, too. I hadn’t realized until I was working with him just how difficult it was for him to put in a full day’s work at the farm. I should have never left them alone while I went to school in town; I should have been there sharing in the responsibility. Maybe then things wouldn’t have gotten so far behind.
But inwardly I knew that they never would have agreed to my staying at home. Even now, comments were made about my “calling” and I was reminded that I was not to hesitate when I felt God was prodding me on to what I “really should be doing” with my life.
I asked myself fairly frequently if I felt Him prodding, but I also found myself bargaining with Him.
“Can I wait, Lord, until I get the pasture fence mended?” I’d pray. “God, would you give me enough time to get in the crop?” And each time I asked His permission, I felt like I got His nod of approval.
Uncle Charlie’s washing machine arrived in mid-October. I hadn’t realized how much it meant to him until I watched him grinning as he uncrated it. He stroked the wringer lovingly, then gave it a few cranks and grinned some more. It was going to be a good investment.
The weather didn’t cooperate that fall. The fields would dry just enough for
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