Ready or Not (Aggie's Inheritance) (31 page)

Again, they watched Ellie as she tried to draw chubby baby arms and hands holding a ball. No matter how many times she erased or tore off the page, the child never showed any signs of frustration. She simply tried again. Eventually, the man, who introduced himself as Dave, strolled to her side, hunkered on his heels, and showed Ellie how to look at one of the other children
’
s arms for perspective. The picture that resulted was endearing. The baby
’
s profile was very like Ian, and the ball was perfectly proportioned in his little hands.

She painted the ball a bright red but left the rest of the picture in pencil. Aggie asked the girl why she hadn
’
t painted the child. Based upon Ellie
’
s natural talent and understanding of art, she expected there was some kind of deep meaning or reason. She laughed when Ellie confessed,
“
I don
’
t know if I can get the color right, and I don
’
t want to ruin it. I
’
ll color it in later if I find the perfect shade. Do you like it?
”

Aggie tried hard to show her enthusiasm without being excessively effusive. Ellie was very nonchalant about her talent. It was obvious that she
’
d been drawing for years, but Allie had never mentioned a particular talent. Aggie wondered if her sister had ever known.

On the way home, with Ellie
’
s pictures carefully rolled in a cardboard tube, Aggie asked Tavish, riding shotgun and out of earshot of Ellie, how long his sister had been drawing.
“
She
’
s always drawn, Aunt Aggie. She
’
s really good too. Momma always bought her new drawing books, but Ellie doesn
’
t usually let people see her pictures, just me.
”

“
What did your mom do about her art?
”
Aggie was thinking about how to get the child more training or something.

“
I don
’
t think Momma really knew how good Ellie is. Ellie just found books that show how to draw eyes or something, and Momma would buy it. I heard her tell Daddy that it wouldn
’
t hurt to let Ellie try.
”

Aggie was still thinking about it when she arrived home with the children. After sending them to do their homework, Aggie laid the pictures out on the desk in the study and showed Iris what Ellie had drawn.
“
Iris? Can I show you something? Should I get her an art teacher? I mean, I think these are really good!
”

Iris examined the pictures carefully. Aggie was right; the child was obviously talented, but Iris thought that people pushed children into developing their talents much too young. Praying for wisdom in how to word her thoughts, Iris agreed cautiously.

“
Well, she
is
very good, but she
’
s just a child. I would keep her supplied with pencils, markers, different paints, videos and books. That will be sufficient for a few years. I think parents try to direct their children
’
s talents so young that, by the time the children really would be enjoying them fully, they are burned out. I think at eight years old, Ellie should just be allowed to be a child.
”

Aggie thought about that.
“
You have a point. I have a friend who won
’
t pick up her violin anymore. She spent so many hours in student orchestras and recitals that she simply can
’
t stand to play anymore.
”

Iris had another thought.
“
Oh, Aggie? Try to help her develop interest in something less mental and more active. It
’
s good to balance your time with different activities.
”

Sunday, May 19
^th

The simple harmony of the congregation
’
s voices swelled as they prepared their hearts for communion. Sunlight streamed through the tall narrow windows, the children sat quietly, Ian sleeping on the pew between Aggie and Laird. The bread and
“
wine
”
passed from person to person until Aggie too was refreshed as she
“
sat at the Lord
’
s Table
”
during worship. Reflecting on the work of Christ on the cross always humbled the young woman. The words to the old hymn flowed through her mind and her heart as she focused on the memorial.

When I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of Glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride

See from His head, His hands, His feet

Sorrow and love flow mingled down

Did e
’
er such love and sorrow meet

Or th
orns compose so rich a crown.

The minister stood and smiled at the end of the memorial feast. Aggie liked this congregation. Somehow, without making it overtly formal, they had restored a stronger meaning to the Lord
’
s Supper. Actual cups of juice or wine were brought to the members, and the
“
loaf
”
was about the size of a small piece of bread. You had time to chew and reflect on Christ
’
s sacrifice as you feasted. The supper wasn
’
t rushed, nor did it drag. As she added her cup to the tray at the end of the memorial meal, Aggie realized that she had really missed this last Sunday.

“
I
’
m reading from Galatians chapter six in the NASB this morning. Turn with me; let us reason together and see what great things the Lord will encourage us with this morning.
”

Aggie listened attentively to the lesson. When the words
“
let us not lose heart in doing good
”
were read, Aggie
’
s mind strayed. Those words were powerful words. She was doing
“
good,
”
and she had lost heart for a time. Those times would come again and Aggie knew that she had to not
“
grow weary.
”
This new direction that the Lord had taken her life into was exciting as well as exhausting. Many women her age were starting a career, or at the
most
they were
starting
a family. Aggie
’
s family was handed to her ready-made, and when she hadn
’
t known what to do, she
’
d grown weary.

The closing hymn was
“
My Faith Looks up to Thee
.
”
Aggie thought the words were fitting, and they encouraged her more than she ever could have imagined. Throughout the day, she found herself humming the tune, and her spirit was refreshed. As she went to sleep that evening, back upstairs in her own bed, Aggie prayed a simple heartfelt prayer.
“
Lord, remind me Who is the Potter and who is the clay. I tend to try to model myself and hope that You
’
ll just kind of keep me from cracking in the fire of life. Please, Lord, teach me to simply be a lump of clay.
”
Aggie slept better that night than she had in weeks. Perhaps it was her prayer already being answered, or perhaps it was simply that her bed was much more comfortable than the couch.

Friday, May 31
^st

The children were hyper, and the house was a perfect set for a disaster movie. Aggie tore up and down the stairs in search of socks, barrettes, and baby Ian
’
s shoes. Between groans of frustration, gasps for air, and wiping beads of perspiration from her upper lip and forehead, Aggie realized that people who said mothers at home didn
’
t get enough exercise were more than ignorant; they were foolish!

“
If women need more exercise at home, they should have another child or two. Twins would help,
”
Aggie muttered to herself.

“
What did you say, Aunt Aggie?
”
Laird eyed his aunt warily. He thought he had heard her correctly, but she sounded a little insane to him.

“
I was just muttering to myself over the idiotic comments that people make about mothers. Ignore me.
”

Aggie dashed back upstairs one last time and finally found a brush under her dresser. Frustrated with the amount of time it took to find simple household staples like pens, pencils, scissors, a hairbrush, and similarly unexciting items, she decided to make a kit for emergencies. She would buy a lockable tool box and fill it with things like, barrettes, hair brushes, socks for everyone, spare keys (note to self: don
’
t use a keyed lock) pencils, pens, checkbook, cash
--
anything that she might need and can
’
t find in an emergency
--
or at least a hurry.

“
Aunt Aggie, we have to hurry! I
’
ll be late to my gradgigation!
”
Kenzie was near tears as she stood in the entryway wearing her nautical dress, her hair in a ribbon, holding her little purse and a present for her teacher.

“
We
’
re about ready, sweetie. I just have to brush Cari
’
s hair, and we
’
ll be out the door. Everybody load up!
”

The Stuart children and Aggie almost filled the front row. Ian bounced, giggled, and squirmed, Cari and Lorna sat in rapt attention, mesmerized by exciting things like water fountains, microphone testing, and the elementary school band warming up with its discordant squeaks and ill-timed twangs. When the little kindergarteners filed out on stage in their little white caps and gowns, the baby clapped and clapped. Aggie had to stifle a laugh when Kenzie clapped with him. The children led the auditorium in the
Pledge of Allegiance
and in singing the national anthem. Aggie choked and sputtered when she heard one little boy nearest the edge of the stage singing,
“
What so proudly we
bailed
at the twilight
’
s last gleaming…
”