The Calling of Emily Evans (5 page)
Emily’s smile was shaky in return.
“Well, yes, I—”
“Have you had the opportunity to share your good news with your family?”
“No-o,” Emily admitted and again remembered the discussion with her father. She wondered if her father would deem the “call” good news.
“You haven’t written?”
“Well, no-o. I’m to go home this weekend. I thought that I’d rather—rather tell them firsthand.”
The preceptress smiled.“Of course,” she said.“It is always nicer to share those things in person.”
The woman looked searchingly at Emily and seemed to sense that something was troubling her.
“Can I be of help in some way?” she asked solicitously.
Tears gathered in Emily’s eyes.
“I—I have a confession,” she admitted.
The smile left but the eyes still held softness.
“Go on,” the woman urged.
“I—I haven’t always been to bed on time. I—I mean I have studied after—after lights out. I—I’m rather slow—I mean in my studies. I need to spend much longer studying than Ruth, and so I—I—”
Then Emily finished lamely, “I broke the rules.”
“But your light was always out when I came around for bed check,” the woman puzzled.
Emily’s face felt hot.“I—I would put the light out when I heard the stair step squeak,” she admitted.
There was a moment of silence.
“I see,” said the preceptress slowly.
“And—and on occasion, I—I got back up and put the light on again—after all was quiet, so I could study some more,” Emily admitted.“I—I even laid my rolled-up.”
More silence. Then Miss Herrington commented, “I have watched your grades. You have been doing well.”
“But I wouldn’t have—without studying,” Emily assured her, her words tumbling over each other.“I have always found learning more—more difficult than some. Even in grade school I had to work harder than Ina or even Annabelle—my sisters. I—”
“Miss Evans,” the preceptress interrupted softly, “do you understand why we have the ‘lights out’ rule?”
“Yes.” Emily’s voice trembled.
“Why?”
“So that we get the proper rest.”
“Correct. Lights out is not some casually contrived policy. Lights out is for your benefit. But that is not all. It is for the benefit of the total student body—so that you do not pass on an illness to the rest. You are cheating yourself when you break the rules. And perhaps endangering your fellow students.”
Emily had not considered that before.
“You have been remarkably free of sickness this winter—but your faculty has been praying for you week by week.”
Emily’s eyes widened. She had no idea that her health was the subject of faculty prayers.
“Perhaps God has seen fit to answer those prayers in spite of your disobedience.” Miss Herrington’s gentle tone took some of the sting out of the words.“Because—because,” she went on, “He saw a girl who wanted to get all she could from her studies.”
Emily blinked.
“But,” continued the preceptress, “one should not press, or be presumptuous, with God.”
Emily wondered if the preceptress had been on the verge of saying “press one’s luck.” In spite of her mortification over the interview, she found it hard to suppress a smile.
“From now on, I shall expect you to be in bed at the proper hour.”
“Yes, Miss Herrington,” agreed Emily in a subdued tone.
“If you need to have more study time, we will try to find some other way for you to manage it.”
The kindness and consideration of the older woman surprised Emily. She had not expected such understanding.
Emily’s eyes brimmed again. She felt more chastised than if she had been assigned further kitchen duty or soundly scolded for her crime.
“I am sorry—truly, I am,” she sobbed. The woman offered her a clean handkerchief and Emily murmured her thanks.
“Miss Evans,” the preceptress said, “you realize that if you had not come to me about your disobedience and I had discovered it another way, I could not have avoided disciplinary action.”
Emily nodded and wiped her eyes, greatly relieved that she had been moved to seek forgiveness.
Miss Herrington reached out and patted her hand.
“Let’s hear nothing more about it,” she stated matter-of-factly, and Emily knew she had been dismissed. Dismissed and forgiven. Feeling a load had been lifted from her heart, she slipped from the room. She had not been condemned. She had not been removed from the list for future service. With great relief, Emily went back to her room to wash her face.
“Now if only Father will understand about my call …” she said under her breath and reached for her towel and washcloth.
Spring was knocking at the back door of winter when Emily stepped off the train at Jamestown station for her weekend at home. Here and there a bird twittered in expectation of warmer days. Bits of hardy green showed in small patches against the southern side of buildings where the snow had been forced to give way by warm sunshine. Emily took a deep breath and smiled her anticipation of milder weather, which she yearned for. Her health was always much better in the summertime.
If I go home with a bounce to my step and a healthy glow on my cheeks, Father won’t be quite so hard to convince,
she had reasoned to herself on the train ride home.
But even with those positive thoughts, Emily wondered.
Just how would her father accept the news of her “calling”? Besides his feeling regarding women preachers, he had inferred that Emily needed a hardy, solid man to care for her, to protect her from the strains that life often imposed. That probably was why he considered Will Pearson a good candidate. It was true that Emily’s shoulders were not broad, nor her frame strong.
But God has other strengths He gives His servants,
Emily reasoned.
Emily’s father greeted her at the station. She could feel his eyes scan her quickly.
I’m glad I had my coat properly buttoned,
she thought to herself. Then her glance followed his to her feet. She had neglected to wear her overshoes again.
“The streets were quite clear in Regis,” she said defensively.“I didn’t even think to wear my—”
He just nodded, his face solemn, as he reached for the small valise she carried. Emily knew he was not pleased with her carelessness.
She circled a spring puddle and had to run a few steps to catch up to her father, who had splashed directly through with his farm boots. She sought for something to say, but she couldn’t think of anything except, “How are Ina and Annabelle?”
“They’re doing good. Ina’s fixin’ supper and Annabelle wasn’t home from school yet, so I came by myself.” They lapsed again into silence.
When they reached the team and wagon, her father nodded for her to get in while he placed the valise on the floor boards. Emily climbed stiffly over the wheel and settled herself for the ride.
They were almost home before her father said, “How’s school?”
“Fine,” responded Emily, continuing to watch a distant V of returning Canada geese.
There was a moment of silence, and then her father spoke again.
“How’s school?”
Emily jerked to attention. Her father had always used this device with his children. If they answered absent-mindedly, he simply repeated the question until they gave it proper consideration.
Emily’s heart began to pound.
Is now the time to tell Father about my call?
She took a deep breath and decided to get it over with. Perhaps then they would have the rest of the weekend to sort it through—work it out.
“We had a wonderful chapel service recently,” Emily began with a deep breath.“The Witts were there, and Rev. Witt spoke about the need for church workers. Then he gave an altar call. He asked those who felt God was calling them to serve Him to step out and come forward.”
Emily stopped for breath—and courage.“Eight students went forward.”
She hesitated again.
Her father had been watching her face as she spoke, and Emily turned to him now. She saw his eyes were alight and he answered almost under his breath, “Praise God.”
Emily was pleased with his response. She knew her father was deeply interested in enlarging their mission of reaching local communities, particularly ones that had no church.
Emily took another deep breath and then blurted out hurriedly before the gleam left her father’s eyes, “I was one of them.”
A startled look passed over his face. Emily waited for the lecture to begin. There was nothing. Only silence. His eyes shifted back to the team he was driving. One foot stirred restlessly on the wooden boards of the wagon. Emily could see his hands tighten on the reins.
Still he did not speak. He had just thanked God that young people had been called to preach. And now he had to face the giving of his own flesh and blood—and one not too strong at that.
At length he nodded—just nodded his head in acknowledgment. He could hardly take back his expression of praise to God. But Emily could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
“Where?” was his simple response.
Emily shrugged her slim shoulders.“I—I don’t know where—yet. Rev. Witt said that—that God would show us where.”
He seemed to relax then.“You know you’re not very strong,” he began gently.
Emily’s chin came up.“Scripture says that God often chooses the weak things to confound the strong,” she reminded him.
He nodded, his expression saying there was no use arguing against Scripture.
They rode in silence again. Emily could tell that her father was mulling over the news. Finally he spoke again.“So who’s the young man?”
Emily did not understand.“The what?” she asked.
“The man. When you were home at Christmas, you told about a preacher and his wife both servin’ together. I don’t recall your writing about someone special. I would like to know the man my daughter will be sharing her life with. Who will you be goin’—”
“Oh,” cut in Emily quickly, “I—I’m not interested in anyone. I’m quite prepared to go alone.”
This did bring a sharp reaction from her father.“Alone?” he thundered.“That’s absurd.You can’t just go off and run a church alone. A young girl like you—sickly and—”
“I’m not sickly,” Emily protested.“I’ve much more strength than you credit me with, Father. And I will have God to—”
“It’s unheard of,” her father continued, paying little attention to Emily’s arguments.“It wouldn’t even be decent for a young woman to be on her own. To try to manage a church. How can the district superintendent even consider such a thing? I won’t hear of it! Not for one of my girls.”
Emily bit her tongue. Now was not the time for the discussion to continue. Tears stung her eyes, but she wisely made no further comment. Inwardly she prayed. Prayed that He would speak to her father. If she was to answer God’s call, He would need to convince her father that it was proper and right for a young woman.
“We’ll talk later,” he said at last, patting her arm a bit stiffly and flicking the reins to hasten the team.
He needs time to think—to pray,
Emily concluded.
It was not until Mr. Evans was driving Emily back to catch her train that the subject was broached again.
“You know you are often ill,” he began softly.
Emily nodded in silent agreement. It would have been foolish to try to deny it.
“You know that directing a church is hard, hard work.”
Emily nodded at that as well.
“Why don’t they send out two women together?” he demanded.
“There aren’t enough of us to double up like that,” Emily tried to explain.
“You’ll likely spend many hours alone.”
“I know,” whispered Emily, the tears threatening to come.
“You’ll have no one there to lean on.”
“God will be there,” Emily insisted in a trembling voice.
The plodding of the team, the creaking of the wagon wheels, and the occasional twitter of a bird were the only intrusions on the silence.
“And you still wish to do it?” Emily’s father finally asked.
Emily turned pleading eyes to him. The tears clung to her lashes and she swallowed the lump in her throat.
“It is not what I want that is important,” she murmured in a whispery voice.“I have been called, Papa. To disobey would only bring heartache. I must—I
must
answer my call.”
She called him Papa only at very intimate times. It was what her mother had often called him.“Go ask your papa,” the girls would be told. Or, “Call your papa for dinner.” He turned his face slightly to hide his deep emotion. After a time, he cleared his throat and turned back to Emily.
“Then by all means, be obedient,” he said huskily.“I—I will do—whatever I can to help.”
With a glad little cry Emily leaned against her father and took his large hand in both her small ones.
“Thank you, Papa,” she said through her tears. She knew her prayer had been answered.
Emily went home to help Ina at the farm over the summer months. She had wished she could go out on some summer mission, some endeavor that would fit in with preparing herself for her future work. But her father had requested that she spend the time with them, and she was anxious to honor his wishes where possible.
The summer eventually was over, though it seemed to Emily twice as long as normal. She was glad to pack her trunk and her suitcase and board the train for school.
But just maybe,
she reasoned with herself as her train chugged south,
just maybe these weeks of canning beans and tomatoes with Ina were the very best way I could have spent the summer. Maybe even the
best preparation.…
Back into the rhythm of school life, she conscientiously obeyed the dorm rules, which meant that she was in bed on time.
I might as
well be up studying,
she sometimes grumbled as she lay in bed with her eyes wide open, the threat of an impending exam hanging over her troubled head. Her grades slipped a little, but she struggled on, willing herself to make use of each precious moment of her day.
Lord,
I trust you with my time, my health, and my grades,
she prayed.
