Not My Will and The Light in My Window (35 page)

Then, when the last ugly weed had been uprooted, Eleanor and little Chad washed their muddied hands in the pool and sat down to rest on the bench by the edge of the water.

The fish pond was a new venture in the young people’s landscaping campaign. Several hundred yards distant, a small brook flowed through the field and emptied into the larger creek across the road. One day a lad had remarked on the need for a waterfall, and together the young people conceived a plan for making a new channel for the brook and leading it down over the rocks. And now the brook tumbled down the rocks in a graceful spray and formed a sizeable pool at the foot of the hill. Thence it meandered off under the fence and across the adjoining woodlot to join the creek. It had been a real engineering feat, and the young people were justifiably proud of their handiwork.

The afternoon was warm, and Chad looked longingly at the cool water splashing on the rocks. He raised pleading eyes. “May I play in the brook, Mother?” he begged.

“Oh, honey, I wish you could,” she replied in a tone of regret. “But this is your third clean suit today. Mother can’t spend
all
her time washing and ironing little suits, can she?”

“No, course not,” came the resigned answer. But it was accompanied by a deep sigh.

“When we get home you can play in the big trough by the well,” promised Eleanor. “I’ll make you a boat to sail on it. How will that be?”

“That will be very nice, Mother.” There was no enthusiasm in the tone, but no rebellion either. The lessons of obedience were beginning to be fruitful.

“I think I’ll go around and get me a nice bunch of goldenrods, Mother,” said Chad after a few minutes, during which they had both sat watching the fish swimming around in the pool.

“That will be fine, Son,” said Eleanor absently. So Chad slipped down from the seat and wandered away with the puppy at his heels.

Eleanor sat leaning her head on her arm, a faraway look in her eyes. The color came and went in her cheeks as her mind traveled back to other scenes and days. Sometimes she smiled, then again her face wore a look of sadness. She had become almost oblivious to her surroundings, so deep in meditation was she.

Little Chad looked at her from time to time with speculation. Finally he approached the bench again quietly.

“It’s hot, isn’t it, Mother?”

“Yes, dear.”

For several minutes there was silence, then Chad tried again. “Do you like hotness, Mother?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Well, I don’t. Don’t you like coldness better, Mother?”

“Yes, dear.”

Chad gave her a puzzled glance, then spoke again. “May I go and play with Patty and Bobby Boy when we go home?”

“Yes, dear.”

“May I help Uncle Bob feed the calves?”

“Yes, dear.”

Chad looked anxiously at his mother for a moment, then said softly, “May I wade in the brook, Mother?”

“Yes, dear.”

Carefully he slipped away and hurried around the corner of the church to the spot where the brook glided under the fence. Almost immediately, however, he was back at his mother’s side and leaned against her knee. The pressure of his little body roused her from her reverie.

“What is it, Son?” she asked.

“I guess I won’t,” came the answer.

“Won’t what, dear?” She smiled.

“Won’t wade in the cool brook, even if you did say so.”

“But I said you
couldn’t
.”

“I know it. Then when I asked again you said, ‘Yes, dear.’ But I guess you didn’t know what you said,” Chad remarked.

“Did I really say that?” said Eleanor incredulously.

“Yes,” replied the little boy. “I ask-ed lots of things, and you said, ‘Yes, dear.’ So I ask-ed if I could wade in the brook, and you said, ‘Yes, dear.’ But if you say that wasn’t nice, I won’t go.”

Eleanor pulled her son up on her lap and, pushing back the damp hair from his hot little brow, she kissed him again and again. Then she spoke. “You are your daddy’s own little son. I’m proud of you. Now, because you were such a good boy and decided all by yourself not to go, I will let you wade a little while. Maybe you can help Mother in some other way to make up for her having to iron all those little suits.”

Chad’s face lighted with joy. Quickly he slid from her arms and started for the brook. Soon Eleanor heard him shouting merrily to Sport as they splashed together.

Left alone on the bench again, Eleanor gazed quietly at the fish darting between the rocks in the little grotto and wondered what lay ahead of her in life. She was busy and peaceful on the farm, and God had been good to bring her here. Once she had thought that she would never want to leave this haven. But of late there had been a mysterious restlessness in her heart and a loneliness that even the love of her Savior and little Chad’s companionship did not dispel.

Perhaps it was the preparations for Connie’s wedding in the fall that had stirred her heart with longings. Perhaps the Lord was trying to lead her out into greater service for Him. Perhaps it was the knowledge that things would change on the farm with the passage of time. Bob had been trying to get Mother to give up the sanitarium, and yesterday Mother had disclosed a plan that pleased them all. She wanted to fix two small kitchenettes in the upstairs, and thus have two apartments. These apartments were to be rest homes for missionaries on furlough. It was like Mother to think of such a thing. But in that event, Eleanor would really not be needed at the farm. Where would her field of service be? Surely someplace God had a work for her where she could serve Him and raise Chad for Him. She wished she could discover what this vague restlessness was so that she might pray over it more intelligently. What did the future hold, anyway?

The sound of a step on the gravel interrupted her thoughts. She gazed in bewilderment at the man who approached. It couldn’t be—this tanned and travel-stained stranger! Then he smiled, and she sprang from the bench with face alight.

“Philip King!” she exclaimed. “How—where—”

Laughing at her amazement, he clasped her outstretched hand in both of his and said, “I came past the house, and the little girl in pigtails said you were here at the church.”

“Oh, I am glad to see you!” she exclaimed impetuously.

“I had hoped you would be,” came the answer, and she knew it was sincere.

They seated themselves on the bench, and Philip looked about him at this unusual setting for a country church, admiring its beauty and its peaceful charm. Eleanor told him how the labor of its achievement had been a unifying bond for the young people. They talked of various incidents of recent interest and exchanged news of school friends. But all the while there was an underlying consciousness of more important things that must be said.

After a brief silence Eleanor spoke hesitantly. “Phil, you made me very happy by the step you took at the trustees’ meeting. I am proud to be the friend of one who could do that.”

“Who told you?” he asked in astonishment.

“Billy wrote me immediately. I think I understand, as fully as anyone can, just how much it cost you, and I have been rejoicing ever since, for I knew you were letting God have His way with you.”

“It’s a glorious way to take, even though it seems a hard one at times,” he said soberly. “I longed to write and tell you, but the battle was still on, and I wanted to wait until I could report a full victory. That is why I am here today. I want to thank you for the thing you did for me. The letter
was
a bitter dose, but it was just what I needed and was sent at the right time.”

“I didn’t want to write it,” she confessed. “I felt I might lose your friendship entirely. But I prayed and prayed, and still the Spirit urged me. I knew I must do it, but I was afraid you would be angry.”

“I was,” he admitted. “I was furious. If you had been at hand there would probably have been a battle royal. But you were not there, and my conscience was. I had not been happy for months. I’ve wondered since how many people were praying about me. I am sure that Dr. Cortland was, and my courageous friend who wrote the letter. When you two start on a fellow he might just as well get in line at once, for he will eventually! God had been dealing with me, and I had been running from Him, trying not to hear the Spirit’s voice. But when you put it all into words, I could evade no longer. I had to stand and fight.”

He hesitated, as if even now the memory of the struggle was not pleasant. Then he drew a long breath and resumed.

“Before the meeting of the board I had to face the issue of the presidency. It was not easy. I didn’t want to give it up. For years I had pulled strings and played politics to get that position. I honestly thought I was the best man for the place. But your letter, on top of all the turmoil I had been in for months, was too much for me. The night before the meeting I walked the streets all night. When morning came, I knew what I must do. Even then I didn’t like it. And I had no idea what the future held for me. I only knew I must leave Bethel and let Dr. Cortland take over. So … I did.”

“Oh, it was a big thing,” said Eleanor unsteadily. “It was a real victory, and I have been rejoicing in it ever
since. I could not bear to see you fail yourself and the Lord.”

“Well, it was not a complete victory yet. I had given up my prideful dream, but my heart was bitter with resentment at life and anger at you. Never in all my life have I been so angry at anyone. You see, it was the first time any person had torn off the … veneer, shall we call it, and shown me what the soul of Philip King really looked like. It was not the beautiful, shining thing I had pictured it, but a poor, miserable, deformed soul, and the sight of it sickened and shamed me. I did not feel that I could ever face myself in a mirror until I had done what had to be done. I knew that it would have to be complete surrender, and I dreaded to face all that such surrender implied.

“When I left the board meeting that day I felt more lonely and disconsolate than I can tell you. But God was working. A letter came that very day from an old uncle in the west suggesting that I use his fishing cabin on a Minnesota lake for a quiet vacation. It was a heavensent idea, I am sure. I have been there all these weeks in conference with my Lord—just He and I alone. I knew I had to find peace to rid myself of the resentment against you—to seek out all the phases of my life that were yet unsurrendered. I was resolved to make a thorough and complete job of it this time. Oh, Eleanor, it’s much easier to preach surrender than it is to live it! No one but God Himself can ever know the heat of that struggle. I slept only from sheer exhaustion and awoke each time to begin the same fight over again. It was an ordeal of prayer and self-crucifixion that I hadn’t dreamed a man could endure. But the Lord won, as He
always will if given a chance. The old Philip King is gone. The new one is today and forever a bond servant of Jesus Christ.”

His voice broke on those last words as if the depth of his feeling was almost beyond expression. Eleanor, too, could not speak for a moment. Then, laying her hand on his arm to show the sympathy she could not put into words, she sat in silence as she tried to realize the import of all that she had heard.

“Oh, I am glad,” she said at last, softly. “I know how you feel now, for I lived through that same struggle myself. I felt I could not let go of self. Yet when I did, I was happy beyond words. I felt so clean—and alive—and so rested!”

“That’s the word—rested!” he agreed. “The struggle past, the battle won—by Him! It’s a glorious peace.”

“And where now?” she questioned after a few more minutes of silence. “Will you still be teaching at Bethel?”

“I haven’t gone so far in my thinking that I can answer that. I thought a few weeks ago that I should never enter its doors again. But now I feel that I might count it a privilege to go in as a student and learn from Dr. Cortland how to live.”

“He’s a grand old saint,” agreed Eleanor. “More times than I can count he has helped me to get up and go on when I felt defeated and ready to quit.”

“I must see him soon and lift the burden from his mind. I have had several letters from him, forwarded from the city, and I know he has a real concern for me. But I had two other matters to attend to first.”

He looked straight into Eleanor’s eyes, and she flushed under his steady gaze.

“The most important was to thank you for what you did. I tried to write you but found it difficult and decided to come instead. I do thank you from the depths of my heart.”

“Oh, don’t, please,” protested Eleanor. “I can’t feel that I should have any credit at all. I had my orders, and I had to obey. But I didn’t want to!” Her voice shook, and her hands twisted her handkerchief.

“I know that. It was that realization that finally broke me down,” he admitted. “I realized that that letter hurt you just as it did me—and yet you had sent it.”

Silence fell. Eleanor folded and unfolded her handkerchief carefully. She dared not look up, fearing that her eyes would betray how dear this humble Philip had suddenly become to her.

Philip sat tearing a catalpa leaf into shreds. His head was bent. At last he drew a deep breath, threw the leaf away, and spoke again. “One more thing yet remains to be done. If I have time after it is accomplished I shall come back, if I may, and tell you good-bye. Eleanor, this is a hard thing to say. But—here goes! I am going to see my father-in-law and find out from him where the Little Chap is.”

Eleanor was speechless from surprise. Her heart beat tumultously as he continued. “I know I don’t deserve to see the boy again. I don’t ask anything for myself. But I must know that he is all right and being taken care of properly. They told me that he is with his mother, but that isn’t enough information to satisfy me. She may be some wanton girl of the streets—she may be mistreating him for all I know. He may be hungry—he may be dirty. Eleanor, there hasn’t been a night since they took
him away that I haven’t gone to sleep wondering where and how he is.”

“God is taking care of him,” said Eleanor consolingly.

Philip brushed this aside with his hand. “I grieved for Lorraine, but God gave me peace and comfort there. Dearly as I loved her, I couldn’t wish her back. I know she is with Jesus, which is far better. But where, where is he? I tried hard not to love him, but after he was gone I found that he had wrapped himself about my very heartstrings. I tried to forget him, but the effort was useless.”