Heathersleigh Homecoming (10 page)

“That is true. Things that you and I would excuse within ourselves drive Sister Hope to confession and renewed prayer for a yet more broken self on God's altar.”

“Isn't that rather extreme?” suggested Amanda. “How can someone live like that? Everybody has faults. Nobody's perfect.”

“She lives like that because she takes the Lord's words seriously,” replied Sister Galiana. “She expects herself to heed the Master's commands and live by them. Even the tiniest. When she does not, she considers it not just an accident that she excuses but disobedience. It makes her angry with herself to see that she has not obeyed.”

A brief silence followed.

“It is that dedication to be the Lord's daughter in all ways large and small,” added Sister Galiana, “that gives her the right, if that is the word to use, to say whatever she feels led to say to the rest of us. She expects less than a tenth the same standard for us as she does herself. The more deeply one knows Sister Hope, the more one
treasures, even yearns for the insight of her spiritual eyes, painful though her revelations may be. She knows people because she knows herself. As I said, I
want
to know what she sees in me—painful or not—because I completely trust her instincts and insights.”

“That is a remarkable thing to say about anyone,” said Amanda, hardly able to take in the idea of such a radical basis for relationship.

“Sister Hope is a remarkable lady,” said Sister Galiana.

Amanda was quiet for several long minutes, contemplating the unusual perspective.

“Most people would resist such a thing coming from someone else,” she said at length.

“Only those who do not understand the ways of the Spirit,” replied Sister Galiana. “I do not say I did not resist at first too. I argued and complained against what I considered her presumption. She made me confront my selfish attitudes. In the frame of mind I was in when I came here, her words angered me. I did not like them at all. Yet at the same time I was surrounded with such love that I found I could not take the one without the other.”

“What eventually changed for you?” asked Amanda.

“When Sister Hope confronted me about my anger toward God, I fussed and complained. But down inside . . . I knew it was all true. Everything she said was right. It was as if she had known me all my life. I marveled that she could know me so well. She knew me better than I knew myself. But I have seen it time and again with those the Lord sends us. Sister Hope always knows. As I said, she knows people.”

“So what happened?”

“Eventually I submitted.”

“I'm not sure I understand what you mean.”

“I allowed God to begin remaking me according to his plan rather than my own. Once that transition was made, Sister Hope needed to say little more. Once I gave my heart entirely to the Lord, then
he
took over what she had begun.”

Again Amanda was pensive.

“Anger against God is always just a way we hide our anger with ourselves,” concluded Sister Galiana. “And my experience has also taught me that the seeming pain of the present really does often lead to something better in the end than what we could have imagined. Had I not gone through what I did, I would not now be here.”

“You had two kinds of pain to teach you that,” said Amanda.

“You're right,” laughed Sister Galiana, “—a broken heart and a broken leg! But how thankful I am that the Lord prevented my being married. It was the best thing he could have done for me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Oh, because I was about to marry a young man with such character flaws as I never dreamed were there. What kind of person would do what he did! I did not know him at all. The Lord protected me from what would surely have been a life of misery.”

The words stung Amanda. But she did not let herself dwell on them. “Do you ever think about being married?” she asked.

“Occasionally. But I am happier than you can imagine. If the Lord has marriage in my future someday, I will rejoice. But I do not seek it or hope for it or even think about it. I am content. I will be completely content to remain as I am all my days.”

 16 
Churning Butter

The following morning at breakfast, Sister Gretchen announced, “I will be churning butter this morning. I need a volunteer.”

Groans sounded from several of the others.

“I thought you all loved everything you do,” laughed Amanda.

“Churning is such hard work,” said Sister Marjolaine. “I am not so strong as Sister Gretchen.”

“But Sister Gretchen loves it,” added Sister Agatha. “Her arms are more muscular than all the rest of us put together.”

“That is because I
make
them strong with good hard work . . . like churning,” she replied. “Besides, what would Malcolm think to hear you talk like this?”

“Who is Malcolm?” asked Amanda.

“The hero in the book we've been reading. You remember, from a few nights ago.”

“Oh yes, I didn't know you were talking about him.”

“You'll encounter him again tomorrow evening.”

“Only briefly,” put in Sister Galiana. “We should be through with the book next time.”

“Well, perhaps I shall have to read it all for myself,” replied Amanda. “In the meantime, I would like to learn how to churn butter,” she added. “I didn't know it was hard work.”

“I will work the other churn,” said Sister Luane.

An hour later Amanda sat with Gretchen and Luane on the front porch. Gretchen was explaining the process. Sister Anika had just deposited two large cans of yesterday's cream in front of them.

“When we plan to make butter,” Gretchen explained, “we collect one morning's milk and let it sit the rest of the day. Late in the afternoon the cream is poured off. Then the following morning we churn.”

“So this is yesterday's cream?” Amanda asked.

Sister Gretchen nodded.

“It's not so difficult for the first hour,” said Luane as Gretchen lifted one of the cans and poured the contents into the churn. She did likewise with the other into the second churn. She and Luane attached the two lids over the paddles, set the empty milk cans aside, then sat down and slowly began to lift the round handle up to the top, then push it back down. They continued the process in a slow, steady motion.

“What happens after an hour?” asked Amanda.

“The cream gradually begins to thicken,” replied Gretchen.

“The thicker it gets, the more wearisome the work,” added Luane. “The paddles inside turn differently when you're pulling up or pushing down. As it thickens and the paddles begin to coat up, it becomes very hard to move them up and down. And then, all at once, the thickened cream turns to butter and buttermilk and separates.”

“But your muscles will thank you for the exercise,” Gretchen added. “Here, Amanda, try it while it is yet easy.”

They traded places and Amanda began to slowly pump the churn. She and Luane worked together for some time in silence.

It was another characteristic of the chalet that while all the sisters were ready and willing to talk when they had something to say, none felt awkward for seasons of silence when they did not. As she pumped, Amanda gazed around and drew in a deep breath of fresh air.

“Why is everything so clean here?” she exclaimed after a few minutes, “so fresh, so alive? Why do I feel as though I am thinking more clearly than I ever have in my life?”

“Do I not recall your uttering almost those same words after you had been here a week or two, Sister Luane?” said Gretchen.

“I was recalling that very thing when Amanda was speaking,” Luane replied. “I remember wondering if the clarity of the air could result in such mental focus.”

“Clarity—that is the precise word to define it,” rejoined Amanda. “I feel as though I'm getting little bursts of brightness every once in a while—I don't know, as if an invisible arrow of light had suddenly shot into my brain. I know it sounds funny, but that's what it seems like. I'm remembering things I haven't thought of in years. And with such clearness they could have happened yesterday.”

“It happens with nearly everyone who comes here,” answered Gretchen.

“Do you mean remembering things, or the mental focus?”

“Both. It is different for everyone, of course, yet similar at the same time.”

“Why is that?” Amanda asked.

“I have come to the conclusion,” replied Gretchen, “that there is indeed some wonderful quality in the air itself. It is the only thing I have been able to imagine to account for the fact that so many who come to the chalet find their senses coming zestfully keen and alive, and their mental and spiritual acuity so sharpened. It is air one almost feels could be eaten, full not of noise and bustle, but of the vibrant hush of
life
itself. Sometimes when I am out walking, I feel as though I am going to burst for joy . . . just in the fullness of the
silence
!”

Again, as if there could be no other fit response to her words, a deep and contented quiet fell among the three women. Amanda gradually began to recall another day long before.

This was not the first time she had churned fresh cream after all!

How could she have forgotten? She was sitting with Bobby McFee—it all came back so clearly now. He had tried to explain the process too, using some of the same words as Gretchen and Luane. But instead of sitting patiently, she had squirmed and tried to get at the stick before Bobby was ready to yield it. And then, her patience spent, the moment the work became difficult she quickly got up and left Bobby to finish alone.

Where were these things coming from? Why were so many incidents like this popping out of her memory all of a sudden?

Somehow the memories were different here.

Now that her recollections were coming under the influence of this invigorating Alpine air, she wondered how Bobby and Maggie had ever put up with her!

As her thoughts drifted back to the present, at length Amanda realized her movements were slowing down.

“I can feel my arms beginning to ache,” she laughed.

“Let me have a go at it,” said Sister Gretchen. “I am used to it.”

“No, please, I would like to finish it out to the end,” said Amanda. “I don't think it's hardening yet. I'm only tired from the motion. But I quit the last time I held a churning stick in my hand. I don't want to quit a second time, even if it means I can't lift my arms when I am done.”

“I'll be ready if you change your mind.”

“How did you come here, Sister Luane?” Amanda asked as she continued to churn.

“I served as a nurse in the Balkan states during the recent conflicts,” she began. “I was there for five years. But when hostilities intensified a couple of years ago, the mission I worked for took us out. It was no longer safe. But there was no secure hospital where they wanted to relocate me immediately. I had heard about the chalet here and wrote asking if I might come for a visit. Sister Hope invited me to stay as long as I liked. I have been here ever since, and am enjoying it very much.”

“Do you plan to return to nursing?” Amanda asked.

“I do,” nodded Luane.

“When?” asked Amanda.

“I don't know exactly—when a protected situation somewhere opens up. I would like to care for the wounded. I have always felt my calling to be near the field of battle. Christ's love is so desperately needed there. But because of the war, being relocated is proving difficult. I expect to be contacted by the mission anytime. Yet I am in no great hurry. Coming here has been not only a respite for me but eye-opening as well. As a result of my time here, I think I will be a much more compassionate nurse in the future.”

“It seems it would be frightening to be close to the war,” said Amanda.

“Sometimes, yet with it there was such an opportunity to be of help.”

Each one of them, Amanda thought, had such an interesting story to tell. Sister Luane was here for reasons that could not be more different than Sister Galiana's skiing accident. More and more she found herself curious to know every one of their stories.

“Are your arms tired yet?” asked Gretchen.

“Yes!” groaned Amanda. “I can hardly keep moving the churn.”

“Let me feel it.”

Sister Gretchen took the handle. Amanda's arms drooped nearly to the floor.

“No wonder!” she exclaimed, opening the lid and peering inside. “Just as I thought—butter on the paddles, and buttermilk at the bottom of the churn! You did it, Amanda, from start to finish!”