No Distance Too Far (12 page)

“I usually put cabbage in, but we ran out of it long ago.” Thelma refused to sit down with them, rather serving first and eating later, a habit they couldn’t get her to change.

INGEBORG HUNG OUT the
Closed
sign again after the last patient left at three o’clock. She checked on Elizabeth, who had been awake, eaten, drunk some of the warm honey-flavored water, and then dozed off again, now with Inga beside her on the bed, her book lying beside her. She left a message with Thelma that she would be back in the morning and headed for the post office before going home.

“I didn’t hear the sleigh bells,” Mrs. Valders commented when Ingeborg walked in.

“No, I was over at Elizabeth’s, and I’m just going home.” She leaned over to open their box and withdrew two letters, one from Astrid and one from Augusta. “What a delight.”

“I thought you’d appreciate that.”

“That little grandson of yours is an absolute joy,” Ingeborg told Mrs. Valders. “We were working with a new way to pad his prosthesis.”

“Benny is the best thing to come to Blessing in a long while. Though Toby and Gerald’s arrival was the best of all. But Benny, he has so much love in that little body of his that he can’t give it away fast enough.”

“Why, Hildegunn, what a lovely thing to say.” Ingeborg checked Andrew’s and Kaaren’s boxes, pulling out more mail. “This is a bountiful mail day for all of us.”

“I know. I was going to call you to say you had mail, but you came in before I could. Have you given any thought to starting home mail service here?”

“Mail service?”

“With a box for each family at the lanes and a rider to deliver it. They are doing it in other places.”

“Hmm. You mean something like the way we pick up cream cans?”

“That’s right. And Mr. Valders says there will be a big push to sign more people up for the telephone this spring.”

“Someone has to set the poles and string the wire. I imagine these men of ours will come up with a good way to do that too. Thank you.” She waved the envelopes and headed out the door, grateful that Hildegunn didn’t ask what she’d been doing all day.

As she started toward home, Ingeborg wished she had thought to bring the skis. She’d not been skiing this winter and wasn’t sure why. Walking cross-country didn’t work. She kept sinking into the snow, its crust melting so it wouldn’t hold her. Going around by the road took extra time, but she wasn’t in a hurry. The sun was shining, patches of earth were showing, and the Chinook breeze kissed her cheeks with spring’s promises. She felt like raising her arms and twirling, just as she knew Inga would do with the least bit of prompting. She leaned over and gathered snow into a ball, lobbing it at a leaning fence post, her aim true. Not bad for a grandmother. A crow scolded her from a nearby cottonwood tree.

Spring had indeed arrived. Now if they could keep the river from flooding, all would be well. As if they had anything to say about it
.
Lord, that too is in your province. Let the melt and the runoff balance out
so the river keeps running to Winnipeg and stays within its boundaries.

Within its boundaries. Astrid belonged to Blessing, not to Africa. Ingeborg was sure of it. And then a glimmer of hope rose up. Could Elizabeth’s pregnancy be God’s answer to Astrid?

9

ATHENS, GEORGIA

R
estless
was the only word she could think of to describe how she felt.

“So how many verses did you memorize last night?” Dr. Heinrich Gansberg asked.

“Two chapters of James.”

He shook his head. “How do you do it?”

“Well, I had memorized some of the verses as a child, and I just filled in around them. Besides, I had all evening.”
And I’m not used to
having so much leisure time.
She thought a moment and then asked a question, one of many that had been bothering her. “Don’t you miss practicing medicine? I mean . . .” She twisted her mouth back and forth and then chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s been almost two months since I finished school, and I’ve not had anyone to treat.”

“And this bothers you?” the older man asked with a smile. “I’m looking at this more like a vacation, a chance to rest up before I get to Africa and never again have more than a minute to memorize and study my Bible.”

Astrid nodded slowly and blinked a couple of times. Her eyes felt sand laden, even though she’d been getting plenty of sleep. Perhaps it was the nightly nightmares that kept her from feeling rested. If she was lost in a blizzard one more time . . .

“What’s really troubling you, Astrid?” Mrs. Gansberg asked. “Have you thought on the verses where Jesus says to rest in Him? To let Him carry the heavy load?”

Heaving a sigh, Astrid shook her head. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been cramming as much Bible knowledge into my head as I can. It’s like all the time I spent in the operating room and caring for patients in the wards is now used to pack my brain with Bible passages. I can’t think that that is a wrong thing.”

“No, not wrong. But there is a difference between good and best.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at it this way. Good is memorizing Scripture. Good is doing your lessons to the best of your ability. But best is spending time with Jesus. Talking with Him, listening to Him, praising Him.”

Astrid gave a gentle little snort, more ladylike than how she felt. “Are you saying there needs to be some balance in my life? I don’t think my self understands that concept.”

“Many people don’t.” Her smile reminded Astrid of her tante Kaaren’s smile, gentle and with the kind of love that made one feel bigger than they had before.

“Including me,” the doctor interjected. “I’ve heard those comments more than once through our years together.” The doctor sent his wife a look of love and gratitude that made Astrid feel like a special friend. While their professions brought them together, the time they’d spent talking grew a friendship the likes of which she’d not known before. Even more so because the Gansbergs were so much older and had already lived a good portion of their lives. Yet they treated Astrid as one of their equals.

“Thank you, both. You have become so dear to me in such a short time.” She pushed back her chair and stood up. “I’ll bring us some more iced tea. You want lemon cookies too?” she called over her shoulder as she walked across the courtyard, their favorite place to sit and visit. Stopping, she turned to wait for an answer.

“He always wants cookies. You know that.” There was another of those smiles, so very similar to the smiles between her mor and far. Someday, Lord, I want those kinds of smiles between me and the husband you have in mind. A picture of flashing dark eyes above a brilliant smile skipped through her mind. She needed to write to Joshua again. Was he the one? Or was there someone else? Someone she hadn’t met yet? While she’d not dwelt on these thoughts, they reappeared every once in a while. He did make her heart pick up speed, but— There it was again, the little three letter word that carried such a load. Besides, would he be willing to wait for her if she went to Africa? But if he didn’t, then that would be God’s decision, wouldn’t it? She sighed.

“Thank you.” She picked up the pitcher and the plate of cookies the cook’s assistant handed her across the counter.

“Y’all have a good day now.” The soft southern way of speaking fell gently on her ears.
“Have a good day.”
As if one could fail to have a good day in a place of such beauty and serenity. No wonder missionaries liked to come back here for some respite. She strolled past the bed of vibrant peonies that hung droopy heads over the bamboo frame that kept them from being flattened by the rain. She had seen one floating in a clear glass bowl full of water and tipped upside down in a shallow bowl, which held it like it was in a vacuum. Like the water jar she used to set for the baby chicks, it bubbled out as the chicks drank from the saucer. Were the hens setting already? Had that nasty one made it through the winter without ending up in the stewpot? The back of her hands wore scars from being pecked by that hen. But she was such a good mother, managing to hatch and raise ten or twelve chicks with every setting. With her thoughts turned homeward, Astrid set the plate on the table and refilled the empty glasses.

Dr. Gansberg held up his full glass. “When I look at this, I am reminded about the lecture on water in Africa. How scarce clean water is, how we will need to boil the water we drink and cook with.” He sipped from his glass, his eyes closed in bliss. “No one makes iced tea like the women in the South.”

“That’s one of the things that concerns me,” Mrs. Gansberg said, her voice soft in the rustle of the magnolia trees overhead. “I know God says to fear not, but I have to be very careful not to do that. We went through a cholera epidemic after the spring floods one year, and I don’t want to do such a thing again.”

Astrid thought to the lecture they’d heard that morning from a returning missionary regarding the fearsome health situation in Africa. He’d spoken about the huge black mamba snakes that were quick to inflict their often fatal bite. Was that why she was having so many nightmares? The people there took for granted their having to keep vigilance against vipers, wild animals, and insects.

“And yet, in spite of all that,” the teacher had said, “the Christians in Africa are the most joyous people you will ever meet. They truly understand that God delivers them from evil, that He provides for their needs, and that He is right there to answer when they call.” He’d looked around at each of those listening. “And that, gentlemen and ladies, is why I keep going back to Africa.”

A shiver had run up her back. Would she feel the same way after her two years? If she was allowed two years. And when did her thoughts turn from “have to go” to “be allowed to go”? This was one of those things that needed some thinking time.

THAT NIGHT IN her room with the door to the veranda open and grateful for a screen door that foiled the nightly insects, she took out the journal she jotted in occasionally and wrote her question:
Have
to go or be allowed to go?
She wrote the date.
April 21, 1904.

Today I realized that I have had a change in my attitude toward serving in Africa. All along I’ve been not wanting to go there, but only to return to Blessing. Now I realize that going there to serve those far less fortunate than us is a privilege, and if this is God’s will, I will go joyfully.

She studied that last word—
joyfully
. Did she really feel that, or was it just a nice or good thing to say? There was a difference between going and going joyfully.
Lord God, when did I turn into such a thinker?
She smiled at that one. Maybe that was one of the reasons she was here—to learn to think, to ponder, to memorize God’s Word and let it sink deep into her most secret places, as the psalmist said. Feed on the Word.

She sighed and closed her journal, picking up her Bible instead. Tonight she wanted to finish memorizing James. So turning to James chapter one, she closed her eyes and repeated it from memory, then on to chapter two, only stumbling in two places and sneaking a peek to correct herself. She read through the first half, remembering when Pastor Solberg talked about the tongue and the evil it could do. The part about the bit on a horse in chapter three was very clear to her, after having worked with horses through the years. How many times had she wished she’d not said something? After she had the first part finished, she picked up her writing pad and pencil. She’d thought of sitting at the desk with an ink pen and well, but a pencil was so much easier.