A Proper Pursuit (48 page)

“Next time, lock the asylum door,” he replied. I wanted to upbraid him for his unkind remark, but we had caused enough trouble.

“Come on, we need to go back to our seats, Aunt Birdie. The program is starting.”

“I thought that soldier was Gilbert at first,” she explained as I pulled her out of the road. “He bears a remarkable resemblance, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” I told her, but in truth, I couldn’t have said what the policeman had looked like. My knees were so weak from fright that I could barely walk. I dragged her back to the theater and through the lobby doors.

“I haven’t seen this many soldiers since the war began,” she said, gesturing to all of the ushers. They smiled and nodded at us.

“Glad you found her, miss,” one of them said. “I’ll escort you to your seat.”

“Is this one of Shakespeare’s plays?” Aunt Birdie asked loudly as we walked down the aisle. “I do love
Romeo and Juliet
.”

“Shh … It’s a church service,” I whispered as I helped her sit down.

“Well, it certainly doesn’t look like a church!”

I collapsed into my seat beside her, but it was a long time before my pulse returned to normal. What if I hadn’t found her? I shuddered at the thought and vowed never to involve her in my adventures again.

The choir sang several songs, as did the soloist I had heard warming up backstage. I was oblivious to all of it as I sat thanking God and waiting for my panic to subside. I remembered all the vows I had made during the crisis and wondered if God would hold me to them. I had promised to stop searching for my mother and to accept Father’s marriage to Maude. And I had promised to marry Louis Decker. I deeply regretted making that last vow now that Aunt Birdie was safe.

When I finally drew my thoughts back to the stage, a woman was playing a solo on the grand piano. She was wonderful. I glanced around the packed theater and knew I could never perform that way, no matter how simple the music was. I would die of stage fright before I ever played a single note. Surely that wasn’t my calling, was it?

At last, Dwight L. Moody rose to stand behind the podium in the center of the stage. He was a sturdy-looking man with a wide forehead and an impressive beard. A deep stillness fell over the auditorium as he began to speak.

“We have for our subject today the Prodigal Son. Perhaps there is not any portion in Scripture as familiar as this fifteenth chapter of Luke. This young man was like thousands in our cities today who want to get away from home and do as they please. So the boy came to his father and said, ‘Give me my portion and let me go.’

“He left home and went into that far country and got into all kinds of vice. He went to the theater every night and to the billiard hall and the drinking saloon. It does not take long for a young man to go to ruin when he gets in among thieves and harlots; that is about the quickest way down to hell.”

Mr. Moody paused and stared out over the audience for a moment. I had heard the story of the Prodigal Son before in my church in Lockport, but this time it moved me deeply. I thought of how my Uncle Philip had left home to patronize saloons, and how my father had joined Mr. Moody’s Yokefellows to search for him. I thought of my grandmother’s long years of waiting for Philip to return, her heart breaking. My mother was a prodigal too, turning her back on her home and her family to pursue a stage career in Chicago. She must have broken my father’s heart as he waited for her to return.

“At last the Prodigal’s money was gone,” Mr. Moody continued, “and he joined himself to a citizen of that country to feed swine. Now just for a moment think what that young man lost. He lost his home; you may live in a gilded palace, but if God is not there, it is no home. He lost his food; he would have fed on the husks that the swine did eat. You can never get any food for the soul in the devil’s country. Then he lost his testimony. No one believed him when he said he was a wealthy man’s son.

“But there is one thing he did not lose. If there is a poor prodigal here tonight, there is one thing you have not lost. That young man never lost his father’s love. When he came to himself and said, ‘I will arise and go to my father,’ that was the turning point in his life. If you are willing to admit your sin, and confess that you have wandered far from God, He is willing to receive you. I say to every sinner in Chicago, I do not care how vile you are in the sight of your fellowmen, the Lord Jesus loves you still.”

When Mr. Moody paused again, I remembered what Grandmother had said about her husband—he had preached too much law and not enough love. Love was what my Uncle Philip had longed for, and what I longed for too. I had traveled to Chicago to search for my mother, desperate to know if she loved me. And I had wanted a beau who would offer me all of the love and romance I had craved when reading Ruth’s novels. I wanted to find someone who loved me for myself, just the way I was, and God already loved me that way, right now.

“I can see the prodigal’s father up there on the roof of his house,” Mr. Moody continued, “watching for his boy. How his heart has ached for him! Then one day he sees that boy coming back. The father runs and leaps for joy. It is the only time God is seen running, just to meet a poor sinner. What joy there was in that home!

“No other subject in the Bible takes hold of me with as great force as the wandering sinner. The first thing I remember as a young boy was the sudden death of my father. The next thing was that my eldest brother left home and became a wanderer. How my mother mourned for her boy—waiting day by day and month by month for his return! Night after night she watched and wept and prayed. Our friends gave him up, but Mother had faith that she would see him again.

“Then one day in the middle of summer, a stranger approached the house. When my mother saw the great tears trickling down his cheeks, she cried, ‘It’s my boy, my dear, dear boy!’

“My brother stood in the doorway and said, ‘Mother, I will never cross the threshold until you say you forgive me.’ Do you think he had to stay there long? Oh, no! Her arms were soon around him, and she wept upon his shoulder, as did the father of the Prodigal Son.

“Oh, my friends, come home tonight. God’s heart is aching for you. I do not care what your past life has been like—God is ready and willing to forgive you. There is no father in Chicago who has as much love in his heart as God has for you.

“You can leave the pigpens and the gutters of this world and come home to Him. Give every area of your life to Him, and He will show you how He wants you to live. Offer yourself to Him, and you can know His will. Rich people can serve Him, poor people, men and women, old and young alike. There is a place for you in the Father’s house that only you can fill. And you begin to find it right here, when you give your life to Jesus.”

I felt like cheering. Again, I recalled my grandmother’s words:
“Violet, you be exactly who God created you to be, and don’t let anyone
tell you otherwise.”

“I’m going to ask you to come forward in a moment,”Mr. Moody told us, “so you can come home to Jesus. And you’ll never know if this may be your last chance to accept His invitation. I preached on the night of the Great Chicago Fire, but when I heard the alarm bells ringing, I dismissed the congregation without offering this invitation. That night some three hundred people lost their lives. Perhaps one of them had been about to surrender to Jesus—but I didn’t offer him the chance.

“After the fire, I vowed never to preach another sermon without inviting people to come to Christ. This is your invitation. Come now. The Father’s arms are open wide, waiting for you to come home.”

I longed to go forward. Mr. Moody’s sermon was the most compelling one I’d ever heard. Louis and several of his friends moved into place in front of the stage and I knew that’s what he’d meant when he’d said he would pray with people afterward. But I remained in my seat. I couldn’t leave Aunt Birdie alone, and she would be too confused if I tugged her forward with me. Instead, I closed my eyes and prayed silently.

Okay, I’m yours. Whatever you want me to do, God, I’ll do it. I know
you have my best interests at heart, just like my father does when he tries
to make plans for me. You know even better than he does what I should
do with my life. I want to offer it to you now
.

As people streamed forward, the choir sang the song about the shepherd searching for his lost lamb. My tears slowly fell. God loved me! It seemed so amazing. God felt as anxious and determined to find me as I had been to find poor, lost Aunt Birdie. He would search for me to bring me home to himself just as diligently as I was searching for my mother. He would search as hard as Grandmother had searched for her, as hard as Father had searched for his brother in all of Chicago’s saloons. God loved me that much.

I remained in my seat as the service ended and the lights came on and people began to leave. And as strange and untrue as it might sound, I felt loved for the first time since my mother left me. I still didn’t know what my future would be, yet I felt certain that if I came home to my Heavenly Father, then I could face anything in life.

I would put as much effort into learning about Him as I had into learning all of Madame Beauchamps’ rules of etiquette. I would discover my “calling,” as my grandmother referred to it. I would serve God the way He wanted me to.

Chapter

33

I
was still sitting in my seat in the theater, still feeling God’s love, when Louis came up the aisle to find me. I became aware of my surroundings again and saw the crowds filing slowly out of the auditorium and heard the rumble of excited voices.

“That was wonderful,” I told him. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“I’m so glad you came today, Violet. You have no idea how much it means to me—and to our future.”

I remembered my rash promise to marry Louis Decker. Was that really God’s will for me? I understood now why Louis didn’t need love and romance; he had God’s love. So why was he so eager to court me? He had never professed his love, yet he seemed to be in a big hurry to marry me, in spite of the fact that we hardly knew each other. Did he love me or didn’t he?

“I’m working at another rally this weekend,” Louis said. “We could go together and work side by side. You could play the piano and—”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“You seem so busy with school and your volunteer work at the settlement house and with Mr. Moody’s campaign. Why are you courting me right now? I would think that courtship would be the least of your concerns.”

“Actually, it’s very high on my list. There is a church here in Chicago where I would very much like to minister after I graduate, but the board is reluctant to hire a bachelor. They would prefer a pastor who is a settled family man with a wife, especially a wife who will be a partner with him in the ministry.”

I stared at him in surprise. “So you won’t be considered for the job unless you’re married?”

“They’ll give preference to a married applicant.”

The news that Louis was using me to secure a job stunned me. But to be fair, hadn’t I been using Louis too? I had asked him to take me to the Bohemian woman’s tenement. And I had come to the rally today because Louis had promised to help me search for my mother.

“Which reminds me, Violet, what time is your father coming on Saturday? I would very much like to meet him and ask his permission to court you. Then I can tell the church board truthfully that I’m courting someone.”

“Why me, Louis? Is the fact that I play the piano an asset?”

“Yes, a huge one. But it’s not only that. You would be surprised how difficult it is to find a woman who is willing to marry a minister. When I learned that you came from a minister’s family, I knew you would understand what’s involved. I have the highest regard for your grandmother. She is such a wonderful woman.”

I had to look away, alarmed by what Louis was saying. He hadn’t mentioned any of my own qualities or why he had been drawn to me. The real me, Violet Rose Hayes, didn’t seem to matter at all when he’d made his choice. And he still hadn’t mentioned love.

My thoughts raced in every direction as I tried to digest Louis’ words. Once again, I wasn’t paying attention to Aunt Birdie. She turned to Louis and poked her finger in his chest.

“Why aren’t you fighting in the war, young man?”

“I don’t understand. Which war are you referring to?”

“The War Between the States, of course.”

Aunt Birdie had her back to me, and I began waving my arms and shaking my head, signaling to Louis not to reply. He didn’t get it.

“I think you’re confused, Mrs. Casey. The war—” He stopped when I grabbed his arm.

“Louis, could I talk to you, please?”

“Just a minute, Violet.” He held up his hand. “Mrs. Casey, that war is long over with.”

“Louis, stop!” I shoved myself between them, but I was too late. Aunt Birdie had already heard him.

“It is? The war is finally over? Oh, that’s wonderful! Did you hear what he said, Violet? The war is over!”

“Come on, Aunt Birdie. I think we should be going now.” I took her arm and managed to drag her away from him, moving as quickly as I could make her go.