The Calling of Emily Evans (14 page)

“Oh, but I mustn’t stop now,” Emily answered.“It is almost the supper hour.”

“So join us,” she replied pleasantly.“It won’t be fancy, but we fare quite well—and we love company. There’s just George and me. Come on.”

Emily gratefully followed her into the restful coolness of the farmhouse.

“I take it you are the new church worker.” The woman again surprised Emily. She added, “But I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Emily. Emily Evans.”

“I’m Molly Reilly. I heard you were in town. My, what a job you have—making that old hall into a church,” she chuckled lightly.

Emily nodded.“I thought I had it pretty well in hand,” she admitted, “until that heavy rain over the weekend.”

“It leaks?” the woman asked sympathetically.

“It leaks,” agreed Emily.“Badly.”

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Reilly kindly.“What a shame.”

Emily liked her immediately; perhaps drawn toward the woman because of the mother she had lost. Emily was glad she had decided to stop.

“Take off your hat and lay it on the shelf there,” her hostess invited.

“The washbasin is right over there and there’s no shortage of water.”

Emily moved to comply.

“I believe you met our nephew,” the woman said off-handedly as Emily freshened up at the basin. Emily wondered if their nephew was one of the young lads who had carried in her trunk.

“Shad Austin,” the lady explained further.

Emily still drew a blank. She shook her head slowly.

“He came back from fishing and said you had met along the creek.”

Emily could feel her face burning. What else might the young man have told about her?

“He thought you looked awfully young to be taking on so much responsibility,” the woman added comfortably as she bustled about her big farm kitchen.

I’ll bet he did,
Emily wanted to retort, but she bit her tongue.

“Shad’s father was a preacher,” the woman explained, surprising Emily beyond measure. From the young man’s response to her “calling,” she hadn’t expected him to have had Christian rearing.

“At one time Shad planned on being a preacher, too, but that was before—” Mrs. Reilly sighed and her shoulders sagged, and she said no more.

Emily pondered what it all meant. At one time? Before what?

What had happened? She wanted to know but of course didn’t feel free to ask.

“He’s a banker now,” his aunt continued.“In Calgary. He still comes to the farm whenever he can. His folks are both gone now, and he’s always been like a son to George and me.”

Then she chuckled.“He came home last Sunday and said, ‘Aunt Moll’—he always calls me Aunt Moll—’guess what I just found along the creek. A new preacher. A little bit of a girl. Going to start services in town. Maybe you’d better check her out, Aunt Moll. See if she’s teaching the truth.’ ”

Emily’s face flushed deeply. She winced at the thought of being “checked out.” Certainly she planned to teach the truth. It was unkind of the young man to suggest she might do otherwise.

“Well, George gave me a wink, but Shad seemed quiet—almost moody—for the rest of the day. And he’s never like that. After we’d gone to bed, George and I had a long talk. Wouldn’t it be something if our Shad made his way back to God? It would sure be an answer to his mother’s prayers—and ours.” She sniffed and turned back to Emily, wiping her eyes.

“Forgive me,” she implored.“It’s just that we’ve been praying for him for so long. We grasp at any signs of softening toward the Lord, I guess.”

Emily managed a smile and whispered a quiet, though sincere, “I’m so sorry.” Mrs. Reilly returned the smile and went back to her stove.

“George will be looking for his supper,” she said as she worked.“He’s only milking two cows now and it doesn’t take him long.”

“Is there anything I can do?” offered Emily, certain now that she was staying for supper.

“You can set the table,” Mrs. Reilly invited.“You’ll find the dishes in that cupboard right there.”

Chapter Fifteen

Another Week

Emily’s calling continued to be met with varied responses. Very few folks gave her a definite answer, but there were some who said they would consider coming to her little church, or would think about sending their children. Emily found their indecision frustrating, but she had to accept it and keep praying for these families. Those long buggy rides between farms were good times for that, she discovered.

“The weather can’t be an excuse
this
time,” Emily mused as she looked out on a perfect Sunday morning.

Singing to herself, she prepared for the service. Surely today would be very different from last week.

At two minutes to ten, Mrs. Travis and two of her children found their way into one of the pews. Emily smiled her good morning, hopeful that they were only the first of many.

They waited for another fifteen minutes, but no one else came.

So Emily, with a heavy heart, started the Sunday school lesson. Maybe others would join them later for the morning service, but she was disappointed in that as well.

Don’t despair,
she kept telling herself.
This is only the beginning.
And perhaps God wants me to spend special, personal time with this
woman and her children.
Emily endeavored to make Mrs. Travis and her two little ones feel as much in the presence of the Father as she knew how.

When the short Bible lesson and the worship service had ended, the woman took Emily’s hand and smiled her appreciation.

“It is good to be in church again,” she said in a soft voice.“I have missed it so much. Especially since Mr. Travis is—is ill.”

“I’m so glad you could come,” Emily responded, and then impulsively gave the older woman a warm hug.

The woman left with tears in her eyes, and Emily lingered about the room, straightening the few worn hymnals and studying the stains on the walls.

Her first Sunday had not been as she would have chosen. But certainly God cared even more about this community and these people than she did. He would help her get their attention.

On Tuesday a work crew of six men in two trucks pulled up in front of Emily’s little church. She was both excited and concerned when she saw the number of men. She would be expected to feed them. Emily knew her cupboards didn’t hold much in food staples.

She smiled her welcome, reminding herself that she had written the letter asking for help. God had answered her need. And, surely, if He had supplied the men and the materials, He would supply their food as well.

And He did—through Shad’s Aunt Moll. Mrs. Reilly was shopping at the mercantile when the trucks pulled in and the men busied themselves setting up their ladders. Quick to assess the situation, she hastened to Emily’s door and rapped hurriedly.

Emily answered, still a bit flustered by the situation.

“I see you have a whole crew out here,” said Mrs. Reilly.

“Yes,” responded Emily.

“And I suppose you’re expected to feed them?” asked the woman.

Emily nodded, her face showing her concern.

“I guessed as much,” the woman went on. With a hint of apology she lowered her voice, “Can you cook?”

Emily nodded and smiled.

“Good!” said the older woman.“So many of the younger generation …” But she stopped and changed direction, “Well, you fix something for their noon meal, soup and bread—or whatever you have—and I’ll fry a couple chickens and make some pies for their supper.”

Emily couldn’t believe her ears.“Oh-h, but—” she began, but the woman stopped her with a wave of her hand.

“You have vegetables?”

Emily thought of the garden produce her father had sent along. She nodded.

“Then you take care of that. I’ll see to the other.”

And she was off before Emily could even find the words to express her relief and gratitude.

As Emily watched Molly Reilly hasten down the broken walk, a thought flashed through her mind.
I wonder where you were on Sun
-
day?
but she quickly checked herself. That was none of her business. She was not sent to judge the people—only to present truth and lead them to the Lord.

Emily was just about to reenter her little home when she saw Sophie waving a tea towel from down the street.“Yoo-hoo” came the call. Emily hastened across the dusty road, hoping nothing was wrong at Sophie’s place.

“Is—is anything the matter?” she exclaimed when she was within earshot.

Sophie laughed with unchecked hilarity.“No. No. Nothin’ like thet. Jest saw yer big crew and figured ya might not have a coffeepot big enough to serve’em all. Why don’t ya send’em all over here at coffee time? I’ll supply the coffee—you send the men.”

Emily stared open-mouthed. She hadn’t even thought about coffee time.

She nodded her agreement, thanked Sophie and asked what time she would like the crew to come.

“Tenish,” the woman responded. Emily scurried back to the house to get some cookies in the oven. At least she could supply that much to go with the coffee.

At ten the crew was called from their labors and sent over to Sophie’s cafe for morning coffee and cookies. At noon, Emily served thick vegetable soup and sliced bread. In the afternoon, Sophie again served coffee, and Emily had time to bake a chocolate cake. And, right on time for the supper hour, Reillys’ truck pulled up in front of the building and Mrs. Reilly came in bearing her dishes of fried chicken and apple pies.

When the long day had come to a close, the roof was repaired and the walls repainted. One older man had even found time to replace the broken boards in Emily’s walk, while a younger member of the crew worked a scythe in her backyard, taking down all the tall grass and garden weed patch. Emily couldn’t believe how much had been accomplished in such a short time.

Deeply thankful, Emily lay on her bed that night. The little church and her small abode were now in good order. She could concentrate her efforts on reaching out with love and truth to the people of the community.

Emily’s days were mostly taken up with her calling. At times she came home weary and disappointed. There just didn’t seem to be much interest in her little mission church. With difficulty she left her burden with the Lord and tried to sleep in spite of her anxiety.

A letter from Ruth was filled with excitement and good news. She loved her community, she loved her boarding place, and she had crowded twenty-five people into one little country schoolhouse on her first Sunday of preaching—twenty-nine in the other and the numbers had continued to grow. Now the attendance had settled in at thirty to forty at each service.

Ruth is such a good preacher that they are sure to come to hear her,
thought Emily, holding the pages loosely and staring out at the vacant lot. She was happy for Ruth—but in comparison, Emily did seem to be a total failure.

She went to bed feeling discouraged and lay tossing restlessly. Finally she crawled out and knelt down on the braided rug by her beside.

“Lord,” she prayed, “I was sure I heard your call to serve. I don’t seem to be very good at it. I can’t preach like Ruth. I know that. Maybe I misunderstood the feeling I had in chapel. I don’t know, God. I’m so mixed up.” Emily paused a moment to think.“But that strong desire to serve you in some way was there even before I went to Bible school. Surely that was from you, Lord.” She paused again.“If you really want me to start this little church, then I need your help. I can’t do it without you. Please, dear God—give me wisdom and direction.