The Measure of a Heart (18 page)

“Please—come to the house and I’ll fix tea,” Anna invited, and the family followed her, still clinging together.

Anna knew they were facing some very difficult months ahead.

The new building was finally ready for occupancy. The dedication was set for the fifteenth of October, Anna made little announcement posters and Austin tacked them up around town. The whole community was invited to the service, and some new faces did appear among the little crowd.

Anna had delivered a personal invitation to Mrs. Paxton. “After all, it’s your building,” Anna reminded the lady who stood frowning at the invitation in Anna’s outstretched hand.

“Not mine. Yours,” she replied crossly. “I have nothing at all to do with it anymore.”

“But it was your kindness—” began Anna.

“Kindness don’t amount to ker-doodle,” interrupted Mrs. Paxton. “Got the rest of the town off my back—that’s what.”

Anna didn’t turn to cross the street to her own little home until the door had closed firmly in her face.

Anna tried to put the incident behind her on the day of dedication. There was so much to think about—pleasant things:
Austin, the guests, the service. The church ladies even served coffee and sandwiches afterward. In all, it was a rather gala celebration. The district superintendent and his wife, along with a few other church dignitaries, came for the occasion.

“You should have seen the building we started with,” boasted Mr. Brady. “Pastor never thought we’d make anything of it, I reckon—but then he just put his mind and his back to work—and look what we got now!”

Anna beamed as she looked at her husband. His dream had come true. Largely by his own sweat and his own two hands, he had his church building.

“My husband has put in many hours,” Anna acknowledged, her eyes shining with pride.

The superintendent nodded in appreciation. “He’s to be highly commended,” he agreed.

Anna felt that her cup was brimming, threatening to spill over. And then a shadow fell across her thinking. Now that we have a real church, folks will expect me to be a real minister’s wife—and I have no idea how to go about it.

The troubling thought nearly spoiled the rest of the day for Anna.

Chapter Fifteen

Concerns

“Any comments on last Sunday’s sermon?” Austin asked one Saturday afternoon.

Anna looked up from her Bible. She was preparing for the Sunday school lesson. Mr. Brady was the teacher, but Anna liked to have background for the lesson. Rarely did she have the courage to speak out in class, but Mr. Brady had the unnerving habit of calling upon her. Anna wished to be prepared. Also, for her own enrichment, Anna liked to study so that she could glean all that was possible from the lessons.

“I thought you handled that somewhat difficult scripture well,” Anna responded to Austin’s question.

“I worry,” said Austin. “I worry about balance. Does it have enough depth—yet is it stated simply enough so even the younger members of the congregation will understand it?”

Anna cocked her head and considered his comment. Certainly she had understood the message, and she had no special knowledge or training.

“I followed it easily enough and yet—”

“But you have a quick mind,” Austin reminded her. “And you have done considerable study.”

His words surprised Anna. She didn’t feel that her mind was comprehending all it should, and she certainly hadn’t had opportunity to study in any formal fashion.

“Does it have depth?” went on Austin. “Did you gain any new insights—learn any new truths?”

Anna’s mind quickly reviewed the sermon. Yes. She had learned about the culture of the early Israelites. She had gained knowledge about the laws given in Deuteronomy. Understanding the laws and the reason for their existence helped her to gain a clearer picture of the God of the Hebrews. Her God.

“Yes,” she answered, feeling a little quickening of her pulse. “Yes—in fact, I got quite excited over the third point. That God placed all the people on the same plane. That the rich were not to bring any more for their offering, nor the poor any less. It is wonderful to realize that people cannot buy their way into favor, or that less possessions means a lower-class citizen.

“And I liked the way you carried it into the New Testament and Christ’s provision for mankind. The same blood was shed for all. Rich or poor. Male or female. Jew or Gentile. Yes, I was moved.”

Austin nodded. “And you feel it is clear enough for the younger, the less knowledgeable to understand?”

Anna thought carefully. The sermon had developed and progressed step by step. Each point building on the other, proceeding forward, clearly, yet concisely. It was well planned. Well done. Austin was a good preacher.

“Yes. Yes, I saw no problems,” Anna answered truthfully.

She knew Austin counted on her for honesty—not for flattery.

“Good,” said Austin simply. Anna’s comments seemed to be enough. He lifted his hat from the wall peg and prepared to leave.

“I’m going over to work at the church. Shouldn’t be long.”

Anna nodded, then watched the back of her husband disappear out the door.

It was several minutes before she could get her attention back to the study of the book of Acts. Her thoughts kept swinging back to Austin.

He was a good preacher. His message for Sunday was exciting, thought-provoking, yet simple enough to be understood. Anna was sure there were those in attendance who could benefit from the sermon. But would they? Anna’s thoughts particularly focused on a row of teenage girls. There were five in the group. Anna had been praying for them continually over the months they had been at the church. None of them seemed to have much spiritual interest. Anna worried about them.

It wasn’t that they ignored the young preacher. On the contrary, they seemed to be most attentive to Austin. But to the man, not the message. Just to watch the girls was a reminder to Anna that she had married a most attractive young man. They tittered and giggled and poked and squirmed and tried to get personal attention.

If only they would sit still and listen. Really listen, thought Anna, then perhaps the Word of God would have a chance to root and bear fruit.

But the girls did not sit quietly, did not listen, did not seem at all concerned with the condition of their souls. They were much more intent on coaxing a smile from the preacher or receiving his hearty handshake.

Austin seemed totally oblivious to the commotion he stirred, but Anna felt inner concern. Surely the rest of the congregation noticed. Did they feel that Austin encouraged the action? Did they share Anna’s concern for the spiritual well-being of their daughters? Or did they simply consider it a harmless phase of growing up? One that gave them, as parents, no concern and should give Anna no concern either?
Anna did not know.

She prayed over the matter. She didn’t feel that she really could discuss it with Austin. If he was unaware of the situation, she did not want to make him uneasy by drawing it to his attention. That would make his ministry cramped—difficult. Anna chose to ignore the giggles as much as possible, but to be quietly on hand so that no false rumors had opportunity to circulate.

But oh, how she wished that the truth of Austin’s preaching would become as important to the five young ladies as a bit of attention from the young preacher seemed to be.

“We are to have a new parishioner,” Austin said as he hung his hat on the wall peg. Anna heard the excitement in his voice and turned to rejoice with him.

“She dropped by the church this morning and asked concerning the time of service,” went on Austin.

“Wonderful!” responded Anna, hoping with all her heart that it was Mrs. Paxton.

“She is just making the move to town,” he continued, and Anna was disappointed. It wasn’t Mrs. Paxton, after all.

“Her name is Mrs. Larkins.”

“Where is she from?” asked Anna. “She’s moving out from Calgary. She grew up here, married, and moved to Calgary. Now that she has been widowed, she has decided to move back home—even though she no longer has family here.”

Anna’s mental images tumbled over one another in quick succession. The word widowed had fostered many of them. She pictured an older woman, alone—desolate—lonely—without family. Anna determined to make the acquaintance of the widow immediately so that she might offer her friendship.

“Where does she live?” she asked.

“She won’t be arriving until next Thursday. I promised to get a couple of men to help unload her furniture and get her settled.”

Anna was pleased with Austin’s foresight.

“She will be moving into the Lungren house,” Austin said in answer to her question.

Anna knew the house. It had been vacant for the past three months upon the death of the elderly Miss Lungren. It was, by far, the most elegant house in the little town. It would seem that the widow was not destitute.

“Are her children all grown?” asked Anna.

“She doesn’t have children,” responded Austin, and Anna felt the shiver of sympathy pass through her again.

“So she is all alone?”

“She does have a brother and his family in the area, but they haven’t gotten on too well. Guess there was a rift there many years ago and it has never been healed.”

Such a sad situation, thought Anna. Such a shame for family to forfeit a relationship over some distant misunderstanding. Again, Anna felt concern for the woman.

“I guess she’ll need our help—and our prayers,” she said simply and planned to do all she could to make the widow lady feel at home in their town and especially in their church.

Austin spent three full days helping the new member get moved in and settled. A couple of the church men also gave a hand. Anna sent word and offered her assistance as well as invitations for meals, but was graciously though firmly turned down.

“There is no need for you to leave your more pressing duties,” the widow’s note of reply stated. “The menfolk will move things about. And I really must arrange things myself. But I thank you. And . . . I am on a very strict diet.” Anna felt further concern for the poor little woman. She acknowledged with regret that the parsonage’s simple provisions could not supply the needs of a strict diet.

So Anna held herself in check, determined not to intrude but to offer her friendship to the new member at the gathering in church on Sunday morning.

When it was time for the Sunday service, Anna found her eyes quickly scanning the congregation as she settled herself onto the wooden bench. She saw no new face among the gathering.

The Sunday school hour passed and there was some stirring about as people resituated themselves for the morning worship service.

Still no new face appeared. Anna thought she sensed Austin watching the door as well.

They were well into the second hymn when Anna heard the door open. She knew she could not turn to see who had entered, but she guessed by the slight lifting of Austin’s head and the barely perceptible nod, that it was their new member. It was all Anna could do to keep her eyes to the front. She even had difficulty concentrating on the morning sermon. A thing very rare—and disconcerting—for Anna.

Her mind kept wrestling with ways that she might offer friendship. A strict diet ruled out tea times or the deliveries of baked goods or even custards. And if the woman was frail and elderly, shared activities might be difficult. Anna worked the problem over and over and came no closer to a solution.