The Bluebird and the Sparrow (18 page)

And then Glenna was pregnant again. That, too, bothered Berta. Was Glenna trying to get a replacement for Jamie? Didn’t she know that Jamie could not be replaced? There would never be another child like Jamie. Never.

The pain and anger twisted and turned within Berta, making her more and more withdrawn. More and more angry with life. And even angrier with God.

———

The church was having trouble finding a man to replace Pastor Jenkins. Much to the appreciation of the little congregation, the kind man agreed to stay on until a replacement could be found.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” said Glenna with deep feeling. “We need a minister so much right now.”

Berta frowned.

“I don’t know how I would have ever made it through the—dark days—without Pastor Jenkins and his prayers,” Glenna explained.

Berta said nothing.

Tears gathered in Glenna’s eyes.

“Oh, Berta,” she said, dabbing at the tears. “Some days I miss him so, I just—ache all over.”

Berta still did not speak.

“Pastor said that we all—grieve in our own way. That we find healing at different speeds. The process has been a slow—and painful one for me. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever really feel whole again,” continued Glenna.

Berta swallowed her unkind words. She wished to say that Glenna, with her chortling toddler Rosie, and her new baby on the way, seemed to be doing just fine without Jamie.

“If it hadn’t been—there were so many times that I—I didn’t want to even go on. I just—just—longed to—to curl up and die,” Glenna continued.

If Berta had not suffered so deeply herself she could not have understood Glenna’s words. As it was, she felt her sister was expressing her own dark thoughts.

“So how did you—manage?” she finally muttered. She wished to say,
How could you appear so happy if you were so deeply sad?
but she feared that Glenna would not understand the words or the bitterness that edged them.

“God,” breathed Glenna. “I have never felt God so—real. So close to me. It is as though—as though He has been right there beside me—holding me up. Helping me through each day. He is so close. So close.”

That’s odd,
thought Berta.
I have always felt He was so far away. In fact, I’ve wondered if He was really there at all….

Thomas purchased an automobile, a no-nonsense dark Ford with a covered top.

“I didn’t think you would want to ride in the open,” he told Berta. She didn’t even think to wonder why her wishes would be considered.

“I thought you might like to call on your mother,” he went on. “It will take far less time by car than by buggy.”

Berta knew that was so. She had ridden with Parker and Glenna on one of their trips to the farm. She had been amazed at how quickly Parker’s automobile had covered the miles. Parker had purchased a car as soon as he could, since it would save him countless hours when calling on patients.

“It could mean the difference between life and death,” he had told Glenna in Berta’s hearing.

I don’t know,
thought Berta bitterly.
You were there with Jamie the total time, and it made no difference.
But Berta did not say the words.

Berta felt no interest nor attraction to cars. Not Parker’s neat gray Hudson or Thomas’s dark Ford, but she did agree that she should take a trip to check on her mother and it would be foolish to decline Thomas’s offer.

“I’ll get my things,” she said in answer to his invitation.

“Be sure to bring a scarf for your head,” he called after her. “It gets chilly.”

Berta nodded as she walked away.

Berta was concerned as soon as she walked into the farm home. Things did not seem to be as they should. Her mother looked wan and listless.

“Mama,” she coaxed. “You really shouldn’t be staying here alone. Please—come into town with me.”

But her mother shook her head stubbornly.

“I don’t wish to interfere in your life, dear,” she answered. “And really, I quite like it here. I’m familiar with every nook and cranny of this old house. I feel I belong here. I don’t think I’d like the city.”

“But you shouldn’t be alone,” argued Berta.

“And why not?”

“You’re—not strong enough—anymore. You’ve been through so much the last months. Come with me until—until you get back on your feet again.”

“I don’t think so,” the woman replied. “John will keep an eye on me. He’s close-by.”

“But John can’t watch over you every minute. You could fall—or … ”

“Or what? What’s the worst that could possibly happen to me? Death? We all have to die.”

“Mama, don’t talk that way,” cut in Berta sharply. “It’s not—at all—proper.”

Mrs. Berdette sighed. “You’re right,” she said. Berta saw tears in her eyes. “But I don’t fear death like I once did. I don’t even—dread it. Sometimes I think I might even welcome—”

“That’s foolish talk,” Berta interrupted again. It unnerved her to hear her mother saying such morbid things.

“Death is the only gate to heaven,” her mother said frankly. “Why should we who are on the right path make such a fuss about walking through the gate?”

Berta did not wish to hear any more. “Won’t you come?” she asked, trying to change the topic back to the present need.

“I don’t think so. At least not yet. I want to stay right here and watch spring come again. I always enjoy the springtime. So did Mama. I’m sorry she isn’t here to see it this year.”

She would soon be back to talking about death again. Berta did not want another little discourse on the topic.

“Well, we must get back to town before dark. If you won’t come, then I guess I can’t force you. But I do wish you would reconsider.”

Mrs. Berdette shook her head. “I feel closer to—family when I’m here,” she said simply.

Berta left, still agitated and anxious.

———

They did finally find a new pastor. When she heard about it, Berta did not feel particularly enthusiastic or even curious. In fact, it had been some time since she had felt excited about church or anything else in her life.

With no emotion whatsoever, she settled herself in her familiar pew on his first Sunday. As she had come to do on every Sunday morning, she kept her eyes straight ahead, as though allowing them to turn to the empty place beside her would be a painful reminder that Jamie was still—and always would be—missing.

The energetic Rosie had never asked to sit with Aunt Berty. Berta doubted that she ever would. Rosie was not Jamie. Rosie never responded so warmly to her stern Aunt Berty as Jamie had done. The little girl was much too busy keeping her father and mother on the run to think about sitting with anyone.

Berta smoothed her skirt, picked up the hymnal, and disinterestedly watched the new man take his place on the familiar platform.

The service proceeded as usual. Deacon Burns introduced the new pastor with a great deal of fervor, about how God had led and assisted in the search for the right man, and his own confidence that such a man had been found. At last he turned the pulpit over to the new minister.

Berta was not listening too closely. Ever since they had lost Jamie, she had developed a bad habit of letting her Sunday thoughts wander to other things.

Her attention was suddenly jerked back to the present when she heard the man ask with forceful candor, “Why am I here?”

Concentrating on what he was saying, she heard, “ … here because I believe in God.”

That isn’t really such a surprise,
she reasoned.

“I believe in
a
God,” the man went on, emphasizing the “a.”

“I think it is perfectly reasonable to believe in a God. Not—many gods. Many gods would result in chaos. Lesser gods—greater gods—warring gods—self-seeking gods. Can you imagine such a world? It wouldn’t work. If a god isn’t really God of all—then he is no god at all. Therefore I believe in one God—
the
God—the reason for all that is and all that ever will be.”

Berta shifted slightly and prepared to see where he was headed with these declarations.

“So—to me it has been settled. Forever. Clearly. I believe in one God—Creator and Sustainer of all things.”

He stopped for a breath and glanced down at his open Bible.

“Since this Creator God has given us His Word, then it follows that I must also believe that the Bible—which tells us of Him—is truth. It is His revelation to mankind. The oldest and most accurate of religious documents—revealing who He is and what He stands for.”

He held up the well-worn volume before him.

“So,” he paused a moment, “I believe in one God—Creator and Sustainer of all things, and I believe that the Bible is His revelation to mankind of who and what He is.

“If I believe the Bible is given by Him, and He is God—
the
God—then I must accept this Book as it is. All of it. To dissect it and choose this and throw out that would discredit it all. To pick my own passages to please my own theories or personal pet doctrines, or pattern my own philosophies or religion on what tickles my ears or pleases my fancy, and reject what else it says, would invalidate the whole. So I must believe and accept it
all
—for what it says throughout.

“Thus—I believe in one God—the God—One, though triune—Maker and Sustainer of all things.

“I believe the Bible is His revelation to mankind.

“I believe the Bible must be accepted and obeyed in its entirety. It is the written Word of God.”

He paused and studied his congregation.

“So all my sermons will come directly from these pages.” He held up his Bible again. “We will study together what the Word says. We will pray for understanding and His wisdom. We will pray for willingness to accept with open hearts and minds what that means for you—for me—in our everyday living.

“We face hard questions in our modern world—but the answers are here in this Book. To find the answers we must first know the Source—God. God the Father—who loves us. God the Son—who redeems us. God the Spirit—who leads us. One God, yet three in person—in workings, a mystery—beyond our human comprehension, but one God.

“Our purpose for meeting here from Sunday to Sunday is to get to know that God. To know Him better and better so that we can worship Him more fully.

“I am here to lead you in your search for God. That is all. That is my sole reason for being here. To strengthen our understanding of God. But more than our understanding—our relationship. We want to go far beyond knowing
about
Him—we want to know
Him.
Together we will embark on that journey. May our hearts and minds be united as one as we begin our search.

“Before we start the journey together in the first chapter of Genesis, let’s bow our heads and ask God to open our minds—and our hearts to the truth.”

Berta bowed her head.

Something was stirring within her. A strange uneasiness tinged with excitement made her shift restlessly. God had been so far away recently. She had begun to doubt her own faith. Was it true what she had been taught since childhood? And now this man was saying that they were going to learn who God really was. To not only discover Him but to get to know Him intimately.

Did she want that? Did she dare seek God in such a way? What might it reveal about Him? About herself? How might it affect who she was?

She wished to turn and study the faces around her. Were her fellow worshippers affected by the words as she had been? Were they willing to search through the pages of the Bible to find out who and what God was?

She shifted the Bible she held in her own hands. Somehow she had the feeling that something was changing. If others were having a similar experience, if the wheels were really put in motion, this church might never be the same again.

————

Over the months that followed, the new pastor was true to his word. Sunday by Sunday, they turned together to the Word of God to see what it told them about who God was and how He wished to interact with fallen, then redeemed, mankind.

In spite of her reluctance to begin the journey, Berta found herself drawn in. She was making some amazing discoveries. She was seeing some wonderful spiritual truths.
Surely, surely,
she reasoned within herself,
they must have been there all the time. I thought I knew my Bible—but I just knew some of the facts. The stories. I had never really taken the facts—the truths—and applied them to myself, my own life, before.

Berta began to wonder how she could have been brought up in the church and missed so much.
No wonder Glenna finds God close—and I felt He was so distant. Glenna knows God. I have been trying to muddle through life—just knowing about Him.

It was an amazing discovery—but only the beginning.

Chapter Eighteen

Joseph

Berta now looked forward to Sunday. It was a new experience for her to awaken on Sunday morning anticipating worship. For so many years she had simply met with others in the little church because it was the thing to do. With her new discoveries, she could hardly wait for another Sunday.

Sermon by sermon the new pastor was taking his congregation through the Bible in their search to know God. Week by week Berta’s eyes began to open. And as she understood more of God, she also understood more concerning herself.

“My, I’ve got a rebellious streak,” she surprised herself by admitting aloud as she combed her hair before her large gilt mirror.

Glenna had commented on her hair the week before, telling Berta what a lovely color it was and suggesting that it would be very becoming pinned in the new fashion.

Berta had answered quite sharply, telling Glenna that her hair was just fine as it was, and she had no intention of changing her style just because it was “the new fashion.”

Glenna had said no more, but Berta had seen the hurt in her eyes.

“Well, Lord,” she spoke again. “I guess that’s something else you and I will have to work on.”

She pinned her hat over her hair with a firm, steady hand, surveyed herself briefly to make sure there were no loose ends to her hair or the rest of her appearance, picked up her things from the hall table, and briskly set off for church.