The next weeks were the worst days of my life. I wandered in an empty world, void of feeling except for pain. The house was empty, the bed in the corner—which I had insisted remain where it was—was empty, but worst of all, my life was empty as well.
At times I tried to pray but God seemed far away. I knew it wasn’t God’s fault. He hadn’t moved. I had. I no longer felt close to Him. I couldn’t understand how He could have let this happen.
I didn’t even feel close to Wynn. He quietly went about his daily tasks. I tended to mine. He tried to communicate, to hold me, to get me to talk it out, but I resisted, putting him off with one flimsy excuse or another.
I lost weight, which was not surprising. I wasn’t eating. I still couldn’t sleep. I just lay in bed at night, wondering what was happening to Samuel.
Nimmie came to see me, and brought her children. Where before I would have enjoyed their play and their laughter, now it was only a cruel reminder; and when Nimmie invited me to her house, I found reasons to stay at home.
There was nothing to do at home. No sewing, little washing, no reason to make special food or plan special childish games. Jim Buck came to see me, wondering when we would be starting classes again; but I put him off with some evasive answer and told him that I would bang on the drum when I was ready for classes to resume.
I took in my garden and stored the vegetables—not because I found pleasure in it, but because it was something to do. Almost daily I went for long walks with Kip. I didn’t enjoy the walking, but it got me away from the village and I would not need to try to act civil to other people.
I knew Wynn was worried about me, but I really couldn’t make myself care.
When winter’s snow swept in, burying all the uncleanness of the village beneath a blanket of white, I watched without comment. It would be nice, I thought, to be able to bury one’s feelings as completely.
But God had not forgotten me. Day by day snatches of scripture verses began to chip away at the coldness of my heart. Little phrases and promises began to come to my mind. There were those who prayed, I know, and perhaps it was in response to them that the Lord kept working with me. It was also because I was His child and He loved me.
One day as I looked at the snow lying cold and clean on the village paths, I thought of the verse, “Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” For some reason I got a look at my heart as the words flashed before me. In the past I had been washed, I had been cleansed. I had then bowed before my Maker with a guilt-free conscience because of the washing, cleansing power of His blood. I didn’t feel clean now. I felt defiled. Dirty. Angry and bitter. I knew that if I bowed before Him now, it could be only with a head hung down in shame.
“But it’s your fault, God,” I condemned Him. “Look at the pain you caused me.”
“He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities,” whispered in my mind.
“I know, I know,” I admitted reluctantly. “You did send your Son to die for me. It did cause you pain. I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ve asked for forgiveness for my sin, but this is something different. As your child I thought you would shield me, care for me—but here I am. I’m all alone and I’m hurting, Lord—because you—”
“For the Lord your God is a merciful God; he will not forsake you or destroy you,” came the scripture verse.
“But I feel forsaken, Lord. I feel empty and—”
“Call on me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.”
“Could you, Lord? Could you really help me? Could you lift this burden from my heart and make life meaningful again?”
“For you shall go out with joy, and be led out with peace; the mountains and the hills shall break forth into singing before you, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.”
That was what I needed, what I longed for. Perhaps it wasn’t the absence of Samuel that was making my life so miserable, but the absence of the presence of God. I must find that joy again. I must. I took my Bible and went to my bedroom. I would spend as long on my knees as necessary to find and restore the peace with Him that I had known.
———
I had to go right back to the beginning and work my way through God’s plan for mankind. I knew that in order to have peace with God one must meet His conditions. The first thing I had to do was to confess my sin. In this case it was my bitterness and resentment. I was angry with God because I had not borne a child. I was angry with God for taking from me the children I had learned to love, first Susie and then baby Samuel. I had no right to blame God. He couldn’t be held accountable for Susie’s family’s decision to move, or for Joe Henry’s choice to come for his son. And how did I know but that those actions might not be for the best? What I did know was that God was in charge of my life. He was my sovereign God. He knew what was good for me, and I needed to understand that in His great love for me, He would comfort and sustain me through this devastating loss. He will give me what is best, I determined.
I cried out in repentance, and all of the bitterness began to melt from my soul. I then went on to tell God that I accepted His plan for my life, whatever it was, even if it meant I would be childless, and I would stop fighting against it and leave things in His hands. I no longer wanted to be miserable or to bring misery to others. I thought of Wynn and the pain I had caused him. I asked the Lord to forgive me, and vowed to ask Wynn to forgive me also.
I prayed for Samuel. I prayed also for Joe Henry Running Deer, that he would be a good and wise father. That somehow Joe might be given opportunity to know the Lord so that he could introduce Samuel, and any more sons and daughters that he might be blessed with, to the Savior.
I prayed for the young girl who was now Samuel’s mother. I prayed that God would help her in her motherhood. That she would be loving and kind, patient and caring, and that she would grow to love Samuel as I had loved him.
I talked to God about many things, keeping nothing back, and by the time I rose from my knees I felt clean and at peace again.
I knew there still would be days ahead when I might wish for a child. I would take those days as they came, asking God to help me through them, but I was sure that I would not chafe and be impatient and insistent. With God’s help I would look for the joy in life that He would choose to give me. It was foolish to go through life pouting and complaining and making myself miserable when I already had so much to be thankful for. I would make each day an experience with the Lord. I would find many things to thank Him for. I started out by thanking Him for Wynn.
———
Wynn knew as soon as he came in our door that something had happened. I shared my experience with him that night. We spent some time talking it over and praying together. It was good to feel whole and close again. “I shouldn’t have acted as I did,” I admitted. “I will treasure the memories of the days spent with Samuel. They will always be special to me.”
We removed the crib from the living quarters. We no longer needed those kinds of painful reminders. We had pleasant memories now, and we found that we could share them together. “Remember when?” one of us would say, and we would both laugh at the incident.
We cherished the pictures Wawasee had made. Many of them I mounted and hung in our bedroom. Each day as I looked at them, I thanked God again for giving us those precious months of parenting Samuel.
———
Wynn entered the cabin with a strange-looking document in his hands.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A new posting,” was his reply.
“A new posting—how did you get that?”
“A special runner just brought it.”
“Can’t we just stay on here?” I asked, frowning as I thought of all of our friends in the village.
“The Force feels that it is not wise to leave a man for too long in one area.”
“Why?”
“There is the chance of becoming too attached to certain friends, or making enemies.”
“So where is it? Still in the North?” I asked, coming closer to get a look at the paper.
“It is, but it really doesn’t matter,” Wynn said rather absently. “I’m not going to take it.”
“You’re not?” I was surprised. Wynn usually did not question his orders. “How do you get out of it?”
“Request it. Under the circumstances, I think they will be reasonable.”
Wynn took the paper to his office and then came back out. He kissed me and turned to go. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said.
I did a lot of thinking after he had gone. Somehow I knew it was because of me that Wynn was thinking of questioning the order. I looked down at myself. I was still skinny, but I was eating better now. I was sure that in no time I would be up to the proper weight again. I was sleeping fine now, too, and I had resumed classes and was having ladies in for tea and getting out to the village. I was enjoying life again, and I was wise enough to know that when we left this village, I would be lonesome for the friends we had made. And the thought of leaving dear Nimmie brought a special pang of sorrow.
But I was no longer afraid, nor was I bitter. I was now willing to walk in God’s path for my life. With Him it did not matter where one lived or the circumstances of the living. Wherever one was located, there could still be peace and joy.
I did not bring up the matter of the letter. We had settled before our fire that evening when Wynn spoke.
“You wondered about that new posting,” he said, lowering the book he was reading. “It was to Smoke Lake.”
“Where’s Smoke Lake?”
“North and west of us.”
“Bigger or smaller?” I asked.
“A little bigger, I guess.”
“What’s it like?”
“It’s even more primitive than it is here.”
There was silence for several minutes.
“You’ve decided not to take it because of me, right?”
Wynn hedged. “Well, not because I think you couldn’t handle it, only because I don’t think it would be fair to you.”
“Why?”
“As I said, it’s even more difficult and secluded than it is here.”
“What will you do then?”
Wynn had laid aside his book and was giving me his complete attention. “I will ask for a post back in civilization. If not Calgary or Edmonton, at least a fair-sized town where you can live similar to the way you are used to living, Elizabeth. The North has been hard on you. You’ve been asked to give so much, and you’ve always been willing, but it’s time now—”
I did not let Wynn finish. “You know,” I said, “it was good for me to make that trip to Calgary. I found out that stores and sidewalks and even bathrooms aren’t necessary for life after all.”
“You’re saying that you don’t want to go back?” Wynn asked incredulously.
“No, I’m not saying that. I could enjoy living back there, too. But I don’t need it to be happy. I can be happy here just as well. Don’t you see, Wynn, the important thing is being with you.”
“But I’d be with you.”
“In body maybe, but your heart would still be in the North. I wouldn’t want that, Wynn, and I don’t think either of us would be happy under those circumstances.”
There was silence again.
“So just what are you saying?” Wynn finally asked.
I stood up and walked to the fire. I threw on another log and watched the sparks fly upward, reminding me of the multitude of stars in the clear northern sky over our cabin.
“I’m saying, let’s take that posting, now, while we are young and healthy and want to do it. There will be plenty of time for city living in the years ahead. The people need us, Wynn. There are lots of men and their wives who are willing to take the city postings. We’re needed here.” I hesitated for a moment. “Who knows what exciting things might be just over the next hill?”
Wynn stood to his feet and took me in his arms. He looked deeply into my eyes. “You’re sure?” he asked me.
“Perfectly sure.”
And I was. With Wynn’s arms about me and God’s peace in my heart, I had no reason to doubt or fear anything the future might hold.