CAN West 04 - When Hope Springs New (26 page)
We both were quiet as we thought about it. It didn’t seem like the Indian village was the right place for the boy.
“I’m afraid I just don’t have the answer,” admitted Wynn. “We’ll have to keep praying.”
We both agonized over Henry. It was so important that he have love and grounding in order to be taught the truths of the Gospel and make his own decision to follow the Lord.
And yet, our Indian people were important, too. They needed someone to take the Gospel to them—and they needed it now.
I tried to leave it all with the Lord. “Cast your burden upon the Lord,” the Scripture said, and I cast it—and then I pulled it back—and then I cast it again. I was miserable with my worrying, and then one day in my quiet prayer time I became honest, totally honest before God.
“Lord,” I said, “I am sick of worrying about Henry. Now I know that I am not the only person that You can minister through. I give Henry over to You, Lord. If You ask us to leave him with someone else, then I am going to trust You that his needs will be met and that You will care for him—physically and spiritually.
“Help me to truly release him to You, knowing that You love and care for him. And help me not to take this burden of Henry’s care back on my own shoulders again.
“Amen.”
I finally found release. And strangely enough, instead of Henry seeming less important to me, as I had feared might happen, I loved him even more deeply. Still I did not fret about what would happen when the new orders came from the Police Head-quarters.
It was a Wednesday. Henry had come home from school, had his snack of cookies and milk, hurried through his chores with Kip fast on his heels, and then come to me with pleading in his eyes.
“Can I go over to the police office to play with the puppies and then walk home with Sergeant Wynn?” he asked me.
I wanted to correct him by saying, “May I,” but I bit my tongue. Henry had so many things to learn that I must show patience.
He had developed a deep devotion for Wynn, and I knew it was good for him. I looked at the clock. I didn’t want Henry getting in Wynn’s way, but I knew he would be more than willing to play with the puppies until Wynn was ready to come home.
“I suppose you may,” I told the eager Henry.
“Can I take Kip?” he asked next.
“Very well, take Kip. He needs a bit of a run. Make sure you keep him out of trouble. The sergeant won’t take kindly to a dog fight in the street.”
“I will,” promised Henry, and he was off on a run, Kip bounding along ahead of him.
Henry had not been gone long when he was home again. He was all out of breath from his run, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement.
“Sergeant Wynn says to tell you that he will be another twenty minutes or so,” he said, gasping for breath. “And he also said to tell you that we will have a guest for supper. A real live Indian. I saw him myself.”
My excitement matched Henry’s. Which one of our friends would be coming for supper? Was he from Beaver River or Smoke Lake? I could hardly wait to find out as I placed another plate on the table and checked to see if I would have enough meat and potatoes.
“I’m going back to walk home with them,” said Henry, and he was off on a run again.
The time seemed to drag as I waited for Wynn and his guest to come for supper. I looked at the clock and then the road, over and over again.
When they finally did come, it was a stranger Wynn brought with him.
“Elizabeth,” he said, “I want you to meet Pastor Walking Horse. He is from the village south of Smoke Lake. He has been out taking his training to become a minister to his own people.”
My heart gave a flip.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Delaney,” said the young man, and then he switched to the Indian tongue. “It gives me great joy to be a guest at your table.”
Oh, it was so good to hear the flowing language again! I took his hand and shook it as the white man greets a friend, but my heart was crying out to him in the words of the Indian.
I welcome you to my fire,
the words formed in my mind.
My heart is glad for your presence. You make my joy increase as flowers after winter snows, and my soul sings like ripples of a brook with gladness.
the words formed in my mind.
My heart is glad for your presence. You make my joy increase as flowers after winter snows, and my soul sings like ripples of a brook with gladness.
Henry was excited about sitting at the table with a real Indian. Wynn had told him much about the wisdom and the knowledge of the people in their own environment, and Henry had developed a healthy respect for them.
He listened now with Wynn and me as the young man explained how he had become acquainted in a personal way with the God of the Bible, and had cast aside all of the superstitious teachings of his forefathers in order to follow Him.
His desire now, he said, was to teach his people, and so he had gone out to take training and was ready to go back and challenge his people with the truth.
“My heart aches within me,” he said sorrowfully, “because when I left my village to go to the white man’s school, my chief said I would no longer be welcomed back, so I must go to another settlement to start my work.”
“Ours,” I said at once. “Ours. They are wonderful people, and they are ready, I’m sure. We have been praying and praying for someone to go to them. You are the answer to our prayers.”
The man was almost as excited about this news as I was.
We talked on and on about the village and the people. Henry was finally scooted off to bed. He obeyed, but he went reluctantly. He hated to miss one word of the conversation.
We talked until long into the night, and by the time we were finished and had prayed together, Pastor Walking Horse was convinced that Smoke Lake was the place where the Lord was leading him, especially with LaMeche already a believer. He would try to be ready to leave as soon as the road was fit to travel.
Two days later Wynn came home from the office with a telegram in his hands. The Force had sent his new orders.
Much to the surprise of both of us, we were told we would be staying on at Athabasca Landing for the present time. The young Mountie at Smoke Lake would continue there at his post.
It came as a surprise to me, and yet it shouldn’t have. I committed Henry to the Lord because I thought He would need me to care for the Indians. God had answered by preparing and sending a qualified young minister to the Indians and leaving Henry with me. I smiled.
One should never try to outguess the Lord,
I reminded myself.
One should never try to outguess the Lord,
I reminded myself.
“Well,” I said to Wynn, “I guess God took care of it all in His own way. We wouldn’t have needed to fret about it at all.”
Wynn smiled and then kissed me.
“Do you mind, Elizabeth?” he asked.
I thought about that. I would miss our people. I had been counting on going back—expecting to go back. But when I thought about it, I could answer honestly, “No, not really. It does seem best to stay for the present, doesn’t it? The church needs us here. The Sunday school children need us. Then there is Henry. I expect great things from that boy someday, Wynn.”
In a reflective moment I went on to answer Wynn’s question.
“No, I don’t mind. I guess I am quite content with God’s direction in this.”
I thought again about the village people.
“I will write a letter to Louis LaMeche and Silver Star,” I said, “and send it with Pastor Walking Horse. I will tell Silver Star that she can have my garden. I will give them both our love and best wishes. Can I send her a few things—and Kinnea and Kinook, too?” I asked.
“I’m sure the pastor would be willing to take a few small gifts,” said Wynn.
“You know,” I pondered, “I might even write a short note to Chief Crow Calls Loud. Just a short note of introduction, telling him that he might be very interested in what Pastor Walking Horse has to say.”
Wynn smiled again.
“So you will manage to run the village even from a distance, will you?” he teased.
I brushed aside his remark with a wave of my hand.
“Run it? No. But I certainly will continue to pray for those in it.”
Then I turned to my cupboards.
“But right now I’d better get busy,” I said, and there was love and joy in my voice. “I’ve a young boy due home from school in a few minutes, and he’s always half-starved.”
Children’s Books by Janette Oke
JANETTE OKE CLASSICS FOR GIRLS
(for girls ages 10-14)
(for girls ages 10-14)
The Bluebird and the Sparrow
The Calling of Emily Evans
Drums of Change
A Gown of Spanish Lace
Heart of the Wilderness
Roses for Mama
The Calling of Emily Evans
Drums of Change
A Gown of Spanish Lace
Heart of the Wilderness
Roses for Mama
PICTURE BOOKS
(for all ages)
(for all ages)
I Wonder... Did Jesus Have a Pet Lamb?
JANETTE OKE’S ANIMAL FRIENDS
(full-color, for young readers)
(full-color, for young readers)
Spunky’s Diary
The Prodigal Cat
The Impatient Turtle
This Little Pig
New Kid in Town
Ducktails
A Cote of Many Colors
A Prairie Dog Town
Maury Had a Little Lamb
Trouble in a Fur Coat
Pordy’s Prickly Problem
Who’s New at the Zoo?
The Prodigal Cat
The Impatient Turtle
This Little Pig
New Kid in Town
Ducktails
A Cote of Many Colors
A Prairie Dog Town
Maury Had a Little Lamb
Trouble in a Fur Coat
Pordy’s Prickly Problem
Who’s New at the Zoo?
Other books
Hannah Grace by MacLaren Sharlene
The Hangman's Row Enquiry by Purser, Ann
The Kindest Thing by Cath Staincliffe
Duty First by Ed Ruggero
The Hundred Secret Senses by Amy Tan
Blood Struck by Michelle Fox
How to Kill a Rock Star by Debartolo, Tiffanie
Sea Lovers by Valerie Martin
Fallen: Angels in the Dark by Kate, Lauren
The Mystery Woman by Amanda Quick