The Measure of a Heart (14 page)

“You needn’t!” snapped the woman.

“But—but I do. By your own—admission you have—have pushed God out of your life. You have chosen to turn your back on Him. To . . . to deny Him.”

“And that’s my business,” continued the woman, her eyes flashing darkly.

“But it’s my business, too,” insisted Anna, her throat constricting with emotion. “I—I have been—we have all been—commissioned to—to share the Gospel with those we—care about. And I care—I deeply care about you. I—”

The woman straightened her bent shoulders as much as she was able. She thumped her cane angrily on the floor.

“Look, Missie,” she said, and she lifted the cane and shook it at Anna, “I don’t mind our little visits. But you start prying and prodding into my personal affairs and I swear I’ll lock the door next time I see you coming.”

“I—I’m sorry,” breathed Anna quietly, but she did not back away from the dark, piercing eyes. “I will not speak—if I am forbidden to speak—but I will continue to pray.”

The shadowed eyes continued to glare at her, but the cane gradually lowered. Then the woman turned away.

“Pray all you want,” she almost hissed. “He doesn’t answer anyway.”

“Oh, but He does . . . if we let Him.” Anna could not keep from speaking the words even though she knew it might make the woman angry again.

“See it your way,” the old woman replied as she began to thump her way across her kitchen floor. “That’s your right, I guess. But I have rights, too. And I choose to have nothing to do with Him.”

Anna felt her shoulders sag. What more could she—should she say?

It was fall before the vacant lot was finally ready for the children of the area. Anna hoped for a long, warm autumn so that they might take advantage of it. But instead an early storm buried the sandbags that marked the ball diamond bases, and snow piled in drifts on the new sandbox.

“If folks hadn’t been so slow in giving a hand,” complained Anna, “the town youngsters could have had weeks of play before the snow came.”

Austin nodded. Anna’s idea had been a good one. Folks had taken a while to respond but had finally caught the vision. Help gradually came for the cleanup, and funds were raised by a community picnic and pie social so that simple equipment could be purchased.

But that wasn’t the most rewarding result. The gang of boys had gradually softened toward the young preacher. They had stopped teasing and tormenting and had even dropped around toward the end of the project to lend a hand with the work. When they played their first ball game, Austin made sure that he was on hand, and they had invited him to be their pitcher.

The town as well had warmed toward the young minister.

“Real carin’ fella,” folks were saying. “Not just out to fill the offering plate on Sunday. Really wants to be of help to the community.”

Two new families had been added to the church and they both cited the town playground project as the reason for their interest. Anna was pleased with the nice things that she heard said about her husband. She was sure God would use the goodwill to open doors for further ministry.

“Well, at least the playground will be all ready for use next spring,” Anna stalwartly announced to her husband. And the young couple threw themselves into the work of the church and community.

As soon as the snowdrifts disappeared and the spring puddles began to dry, the new playground became a hive of activity, just as Anna predicted. There were days when Austin might have wished he had never encouraged the project, for it was hard to concentrate on studying with the shouts and laughter from the vacant lot. Anna would only smile. She was glad that the children had a place to play so they wouldn’t be looking for trouble to ease their boredom.

As she watched them play, her thoughts turned to the possibility of a garden.

“If only I had my own garden,” she told herself for the hundredth time.

But there was no room to spade up even the smallest of gardens on the little plot of ground surrounding the parson-age. Anna nearly despaired and then began to make her need a matter of prayer.

Just as she was about to give up, Mrs. Landers, one of the new parishioners, approached her one Sunday.

“I was wondering if you might be interested in having a garden, Mrs. Barker. Or would it be too much trouble for you? I have more garden area than I aim to plant. My arthritis limits me, you know.”

Anna’s eyes began to shine. The Landers’ farm, on the edge of town, was within easy walking distance.

“Oh, I’d be so pleased to have a spot,” she joyfully answered the woman, while inwardly she breathed a prayer of thankfulness. God had been faithful—and in time, too. The spring weather was perfect for the planting of a garden.

“Well, we aren’t any closer to having a church building,” Austin said one evening as they had their supper.

Anna pushed the familiar and rather boring stew around on her plate; then raised her eyes. “Well, we can’t be any further away,” she ventured.

Austin looked puzzled.

Anna shrugged. “I just mean if we are ever going to have a church here, each day that passes must bring us closer to it,” observed Anna.

Austin smiled, but Anna felt that it was forced.

“I, being human, would like to see a bit of evidence,” he admitted.

“Well, we have a ‘bit,’ ” said Anna, holding up her finger and thumb and making a very small measure.

Austin still looked puzzled.

“The building fund,” she reminded him.

“The building fund amounts to about sixteen dollars,” he responded. “We couldn’t buy a bucket of nails with that.”

“Well, it’s a bit,” insisted Anna.

Austin sighed. “I still think it would help the congregation to grow if we actually worshiped in a church building,” he said. “Maybe we’ve been going about it the wrong way. Maybe we shouldn’t have been waiting. Perhaps God expected us to get out and get busy. Look at the playground. Folks didn’t think we were really serious about that until they started to see some action.”

Anna nodded and pushed back her plate. She fleetingly wished she’d had ingredients for custard or a rice pudding.

“What do you think we should do?” she asked her husband. “I don’t know. Maybe make a bit more noise about it. Let folks know that the town needs a church.”

“I think we might have used up the last vacant lot to make a playground,” remarked Anna a little guiltily.

Austin’s face sobered. “I hadn’t thought of that. The playground location would be ideal,” he admitted. At the look on Anna’s face, he added, “There must be other suitable lots.”

“Not in town,” said Anna, shaking her head. “None that are the right location—and big enough. I walked the full length and breadth of it one day, and I couldn’t find a one. Closest land is the Landers farm. One might get a small corner of that.”

“That’s too far out,” said Austin. “It would be inconvenient for the older ones or small children who had to walk.”

Anna agreed.

“What we really need is something right in the heart of town,” went on Austin.

“Like the playground,” observed Anna.

“The playground would be good,” agreed Austin.

“But we aren’t going to ask for it back, are we?” pushed Anna.

She thought it would be such a shame to give it to the children, and then take it from them again.

“A church is more important than a playground,” reasoned Austin.

Anna reached out to place a hand on her husband’s arm. “Do you see how it would look?” she said softly. “If you were to go to the town now and ask for the land for a church, everyone would think that was what you had in mind in the first place. That it was just—just a sneaky way to maneuver to get what you wanted. We can’t do that, Austin. We just can’t.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Anna could see the muscles working in Austin’s jaw and knew he was struggling with the problem.

“You’re right,” he said at last, giving her hand a squeeze. “We can’t ask for it back. We’ll have to trust God to give us something else.”

They were having their daily devotions together when there was a thumping on the kitchen door that Anna had come to recognize as Mrs. Paxton’s cane. She excused herself with a glance at Austin and hastened to answer before the knocking could come again.

“Yes, Mrs. Paxton,” she said with a smile. “Come on in.”

“Didn’t come to chatter,” said the crusty old woman, but before Anna could make further comment she continued.

“Heard you’ve been looking for a building for your church.”

“Yes,” nodded Anna, “we have.”

Mrs. Paxton shoved a piece of paper toward Anna. “This here’s the deed to the building I own yonder,” she said with a nod of her head. “You can have it.”

Anna was aware that Austin had risen to his feet. “But—” he began.

Anna knew the condition of the building. She also knew what Austin had in mind for the church. The two did not correspond in any fashion. Anna feared that Austin might make some comment of refusal.

She turned to send her husband a silent message, then faced the woman with a delighted smile as her hand reached for the proffered deed.

“That is most kind of you, Mrs. Paxton,” she said with sincerity. “My husband and I—and the entire congregation—appreciate your generous offer.”

Before Anna could say more, Mrs. Paxton had turned and was going down the walk. As she went, Anna’s eyes filled with tears.

When she finally shut the door and turned to face her husband, she could read protest in his stance and expression.

“Anna,” he said, “that building is totally worthless.”

“It must not be totally worthless,” said Anna, lifting up the piece of paper. “No one ever put ‘nothing’ on paper.”

“But it’s falling down. It will take far more work than—”

“It’s right in the heart of town,” Anna said softly.

“I know it’s a great lot, but the building itself is nothing but—”

“Maybe God wants us to fix it.”

“We don’t have the money to fix it. Don’t you see . . . it would cost as much to fix that old pile of rotting boards as it would to build a new building.”

“What I see,” said Anna, fingering the piece of paper, “is that God has performed a miracle. To date, the whole town has been trying to get Mrs. Paxton to sell that building . . . or at least to rent or fix it up. She has constantly refused. Now here we are with the deed to a choice piece of property right in the middle of town. Right where you dreamed of the church standing. Wouldn’t you call that a miracle?”