Nothing
.
Was it the wind or had she heard right? She nodded. “I don’t think that was the answer I wanted.” She returned to the kitchen to check on the bread baking in the oven. She’d leave for church when it came out, taking a loaf with her to share during afternoon coffee with the other ladies. She should take one over to Elizabeth too. She could never join the quilters because her medical practice now reached from Pembina to Warsaw.
Relishing the few minutes of quiet, Ingeborg took her Bible out to the front-porch rocking chair, where the shade already felt cooler than inside the house.
Lord, what is it you want me to hear right this
moment?
Her Bible fell open to Ephesians, where the verse about Jesus already being victorious caught her eye. And because He triumphed over death and Satan, we can have the victory too.
“Put on
the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles
of the devil. . . .”
The shield of faith.
Can I hold the shield for Andrew right now?
The sword of the Word.
I don’t think he wants to hear your Word. Like
when Kaaren would come to me with a verse and all I wanted to do was
to scream at her, “Go away and leave me alone. Can’t you see I’m fighting
to save this land for you too?” Thank you, Lord. You helped her persevere.
For surely the pit that yawned always before me was of the devil, not of
you. I know that now, but how can I help Andrew?
Pray without ceasing
.
Ah yes, another of those commands that seemed so impossible. But she’d learned that she could be praying inside while working outside, for Andrew, for Ellie, for forgiveness, for love to prevail. She could feel the anger in her son when he walked into a room. No matter how gentle he tried to be, it was there, smoldering underneath.
Could she sense it so well because she had been there herself?
Comfort one another with the comfort by which you were comforted
floated through her mind.
Lord, I’m trying to do that, but he sure doesn’t
make it easy. Talk about a stubborn Norwegian
.
She inhaled the wonderful aroma of baking bread and rose to check on it again. When she thumped on a loaf—a skill her mother had taught her so many years earlier—it sounded right, neither sluggish of the undone nor hollow of the too well done.
“This must be a day for remembering.” She took the bread pans from the oven and turned the loaves out onto a towel that covered the wooden rack Andrew had built for her for Christmas one year when he was younger. Most of the wooden spoons she used came from his carving too. The Andrew who had always been so gentle and loving, taking care of everyone. And now he wouldn’t let anyone, not even Ellie, take care of him.
Always back to Andrew.
Using her fingers, she dipped butter out of the crock and smoothed it over the crusts of the loaves, then covered all with a towel so the flies wouldn’t get at them. Wrapping one loaf in a towel, she tucked it into the basket she’d prepared and headed out the door. Haakan had left a horse all harnessed and hooked up to the buggy for her.
Thank you, Lord. I am married to such a fine man. So many things
to thank you for today and every day
.
Since Kaaren had already left, Ingeborg drove to the church all by herself, wishing she could pick Ellie up. Being out with all the women would have been good for her, but it was her quilt they were finishing. When she arrived, the women were already stitching away two to a side, quilting the final end. Some were cutting pieces, and others at the sewing machines were piecing more quilt tops.
Kaaren looked up with a smile. “You finally got here.”
“I know. Sorry I’m late. Hot as it is, you’d have thought that bread would rise in minutes.” She set her basket on the table and took out the loaf of bread, unwrapping it so it would cool without turning the crust soggy.
“You can have this machine,” Mary Martha Solberg said. “I’m doing a crazy quilt in wools.” She stood and whispered in Ingeborg’s ear. “I was too lazy to cut small pieces. This goes faster.”
“How are you?”
“Getting bigger every day, as you can see. I am so grateful that I’ve had easy pregnancies.”
“Something to be grateful for, all right.” Ingeborg sat down at what had become the traveling sewing machine.While it belonged to Penny, it showed up wherever there was sewing or quilting to be done. They’d often teased her that she should charge rent for it, or let people check it out, like a lending library.
The discussion of the day centered, at least for now, on the proposed flour mill.
“Mr. Valders says we must not bite off more than we can chew. This will be a monumental investment.” Hildegunn Valders always quoted her husband as if he were an official.
“He said that back when we all formed the co-op and built the grain elevator too, and look how well that has turned out,” Kaaren reminded them.
“Ja, at least we are not getting cheated at this end of the shipping of the wheat.” Mrs. Magron, who rarely disagreed with Hildegunn Valders, spoke softly, as always.
“That Hjelmer always has big ideas,” Hildegunn said with a sniff.
“Well, this time he has found other investors,” Penny said.
“But then we won’t own it like we do the elevator. That’s brought money in for all of us.” Kaaren looked up from her stitching.
“Mr. Valders says our bank hasn’t the kind of money needed for such an enterprise, and we should not borrow money.”
Penny stopped by Ingeborg at the sewing machine. “Mr. Valders. Why won’t she ever use his proper name?”
“Why, Mrs. Bjorklund, what a thing to say.” Ingeborg widened her eyes and looked innocent. The two chuckled. Hildegunn Valders was not an easy person to get along with, as Ingeborg had learned to her dismay a few years earlier. Forgiveness had been hard to come by. She wasn’t sure Hildegunn had ever really gotten over their set-to.
Why was forgiveness such a hard thing to learn? She wanted to ask them all that question, but how could she do so without seeming to accuse anyone?
Laughter, even giggles, came from different parts of the room, conversations everywhere and questions too. The discussion on the flour mill died out, and they moved on to other events. Since Hjelmer was involved in politics, they usually looked to Penny for knowledge in that area, but today she kept on sewing without commenting.
“I read in the paper that Mr. Roosevelt claims his health was restored when he came to Dakota Territory.” Hildegunn broached a new subject.
“You’ve got to admit, we have ourselves a good paper in the
Blessing
Gazette,
” Mrs. Nordstrum said. “That Thorliff, he finds all kinds of interesting things. Why, he said he is going to run a column with recipes and wondered if any of us would like to contribute.”
Penny and Ingeborg exchanged looks of surprise. Ingeborg shook her head no. He’d not mentioned it to her.
“These men of ours, do they ever tell us anything?”
“Sure, what they want for supper.”
Penny sucked on a finger she’d just jabbed with a needle. “Hjelmer’s never home to tell me what he wants for supper. When he is home, all I ever hear is, ‘When are you going to bake cookies?’ He goes weeks without good cookies.” She rolled her eyes, her tone biting off the words.
“Ja, that poor Hjelmer, staying at a hotel where they make sure he is comfortable.” Ingeborg tried to lighten the talk. She knew how much Penny resented, even hated, having him gone so much, yet everyone had to admit that he managed to bring good things their way, like the quick approval of the grain elevator, help after the flood, and now the possibility of a flour mill. But then, Hjelmer always had been a gambler, and one who won most of the time. Now, as president of the bank, he gambled with bigger things. She’d never thought of it quite that way before. Farmers were gamblers in a way too. They gambled against the weather, bugs, accidents, prairie fires, hail—all the things that could wipe out what had looked like a good crop. Hard work and wisdom often were destroyed by fate.
“You’re thinking mighty hard.” Penny laid another stack of pieces to be sewn beside her.
“I know. I’m trying to figure out how to help Andrew, but God keeps telling me to do nothing.”
Uff da
.
“Nothing but pray?”
“Ja, that is right.”
“Ah, Ingeborg, that seems to be the fate of most of us women. These men go off and do all kinds of things, and we stay home and pray for them.”
“Ja, and make sure everything keeps going on as usual.” Ingeborg sewed two squares together, making sure the ends met perfectly. “We aren’t complaining, are we?”
“I don’t think so, more like discussing.”
“Discussing what?” Kaaren left her chair at the stretcher bars and stopped beside the machine.
“Oh, men and life in general.”
“Sounds interesting. Mary Martha asked me to help with the Christmas program this year. You think Thorliff might like to write us a new one?”
“You’d have to ask him. I didn’t even know he was looking for someone to have a recipe column.”
Kaaren smiled. “We’re always the last to know. Someone asked me if we should find more chickens for Ellie.”
“I planned on it. But not until they move into the house. Astrid said one of the hens she has is setting.”
“Does Ellie know?”
Ingeborg shrugged. “Any time I mention her, Andrew goes real quiet.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Ladies, let us clean up here a bit and take our break for dinner,” Hildegunn called out. “Kaaren, will you please read to us while we eat?”
Kaaren nodded. She’d been doing this for so many years now, it had become a tradition.
“I’ve got to slice the bread. It was too hot when I brought it.” Ingeborg pushed back her chair.
“I sure wish you had time to bake bread to sell in the store,” Penny said over her shoulder as she headed to the table to set out the cake she’d brought.
“That might be something for some of the new people to do. It would help until their farms get to producing.”
“I don’t need just any bread. No one makes bread the way you do.”
As soon as the food was all set out, Hildegunn raised her hand for quiet. Since she didn’t mind being in charge, the other women let her lead year after year. Actually, she loved being in charge, and they all knew it, no matter that each spring she said it was time for someone else to take over. She never asked twice, just sighed and said, “Well, if there is no one else, I will have to keep on. We must have a leader.”
“Shall we sing the blessing?”
They joined her and split into harmony on the amen, holding it out, enjoying the blended sound.
“Does anyone have a special passage they’d like me to read?” Kaaren asked after everyone had filled their plates and found a place to sit.
“First Corinthians thirteen,” someone suggested.
After Kaaren read the love chapter, she moved to I John and then to Psalm 139.
“You read so beautifully,” Brynja Magron said with a smile and a sigh. “I never get tired of hearing you read.”
“Thank you. I love to read aloud. Seems there’s never enough time in the summer, only in the winter. Do any of you have any prayer requests before we begin to pray?”
“About the flour mill. That needs lots of prayer.”
“I have a pain in my hip. Please pray it goes away.”
“For Penny for losing her baby.”
“For Ellie and Andrew too.”
The requests came from all around the group. Kaaren nodded her encouragement.When the suggestions faded away, she closed her eyes and folded her hands. “I will begin, and then any of you who feels led to pray, please do so, for we know that where two or three are gathered in His name, Jesus will be right in the midst. Father, we come to you with all of our prayers, both of praise and of petition. I thank you that we can gather like this both to work and to draw closer to you.” She paused and waited for the others to join in. One by one all the prayers mentioned were covered, along with many others, including wisdom for those who ran the country and a request for revival in the land. A sniff or two added even more depth as Mrs. Nordstrum confessed her feelings of despair over her son Robbie, who’d been injured badly a few years earlier and never grew anymore in his mind.
“And Father we know that you hear our prayers and that you have promised to answer. We love you and wait with faith. In Jesus’ precious name we pray. Amen.”
They all joined on the amen, several wiping their eyes as they did so.
“Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do were it not for all of you.” Mrs. Magron smiled around the circle. “All these years I’ve been coming, all the changes we’ve seen, I tell you, it is most amazing.”
“So true.” Kaaren smiled again. “I’d like to remind you that any time you feel led to pray for any of our concerns, please do so. And for all our men out on the threshing crews too, dear Lord, protect them.”
“We better get back to stitching here, or this quilt won’t be done before Christmas.” Hildegunn called them back to work. They all found a place to work, and the cheerful hum of visiting and encouraging started up again.
Ingeborg took one of the chairs around the quilt frame and picked up stitching where someone else had left off. “I think this is the loveliest quilt we’ve made yet.”
“You say that every time.”
“Do I really?” She looked around the room to see others nodding. “Well, I never.”
Amid chuckles and heads shaking, she laughed at herself. “Come to think of it, Haakan says I say the same thing about the Christmas tree every year.”
Later, as the group was breaking up and Ingeborg was picking up the scraps of thread and cloth around the sewing machines, which they would load into the wagons to return to their owners, Penny knelt beside her.
“Thank you for praying for me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you ever forget?”
“No, never, though after a while the pain is not so great. But you always wonder who that child might have become, what her life might have been like.”
Penny sighed. “I was afraid I was just being morbid. Agnes was the one I carried the longest. I was so sure.” Her voice trailed off.