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BECAUSE OF THE WEATHER, it took Joy and Arnie a day and a half to reach RiverBend. Kjell and his son Nathan were at the station waiting for them. They had been there in the morning when the early train came in and had returned for the afternoon train, in hopes that Arnie had reached Joy and had brought her home.
“He is hanging on, Joy. We knew he would not let go until he had seen you.” Kjell had tears in his eyes. Joy knew that Arnie, Kjell, and their siblings would feel her papa’s passing as deeply as she and Søren would.
When they pulled up outside Jan and Rose’s little house, Joy saw numerous wagons and buggies in the yard. Relatives and close friends congregated in tight knots on the porch around the outside of the house. Several hands lifted to greet her.
They would not all be there unless . . . Joy grew frantic. The tiny hope that it was all a mistake began to flicker.
Rose opened the front door and flew down the steps to her daughter. They embraced and Joy begged Rose, “Please tell me he is still here, Mama! Please say he will be all right soon!”
Rose just gripped Joy tighter, willing herself not to break down. “Come inside, Joy. Papa needs you,” was all she could manage.
The first people Joy saw in the living room were Pastor and Mrs. Medford. Behind them were Søren and Meg and several of their children. Meg, red-eyed, nodded at Joy.
Søren pulled Joy into his arms. “I am so glad Arnie brought you, Joy. Papa has been holding on, believing you would come.” He then murmured in her ear. “Be strong, little sister. He is not as you remember him. He is very weak. Just let him know you are here.”
With those words, he led her into her parents’ room.
The room was bathed in the soft glow of lamp light. Joy could see her papa’s figure under the covers but . . . he was so still and so strangely small! She crept to the edge of the bed and sat down on a chair beside the bed. She sought and found his rough hand and held it in her own. It was cooler to the touch than it should have been and she could not stem the tears that began to course down her face.
“Papa? Papa, it is Joy. I am here, Papa!” She slid to her knees on the floor, her forehead on their joined hands, her tears bathing them.
She felt a gentle pressure and lifted her face, saw his eyes blinking, looking straight ahead, searching for her. Standing, she leaned over him so he could see her.
“Here I am, Papa.”
“M-my Joy Again . . .”
“Yes, Papa!”
“Joy, my Joy . . . I . . . I . . .” He took a ragged breath and tried again. “I b-bless . . . I bless you and . . . your chil . . .dren . . . my daugh . . . ter.” He struggled to take another breath. “Your chil . . . dren da Lord vill . . . gif you . . .”
The door opened and Rose and Søren entered the room. As Rose crossed to the other side of the bed, Jan’s eyes tried to follow her. She climbed on the mattress, knelt near him so he could see her, and took his other hand.
She smiled for him and his faded blue eyes brightened with love. His lips moved, and she leaned toward them to catch his words.
“My little Rose.”
“Yes, Jan!”
A slow blink. Then he closed his eyes . . . and sighed.
—
THE MORNING DAWNED cold but still. As the sun rose, it revealed a fresh jacket of frost that coated the fields as far as the eye could see. Sunlight reflected off the frost, and Joy closed her eyes against the brilliance of a million glittering, shimmering diamonds.
The line of mourners stretched down the road, beginning at the Thoresen family cemetery, past the Thoresen houses, barns, and cornfields, over the creek, and beyond Jan and Rose’s farm. They arrived in wagons, buggies, and motor cars and stood silent beside their vehicles.
Six young men carried Jan from his home that morning. The bearers were some of the men of the community whom Jan had taught and mentored from their teen years into godly manhood. They bore Jan’s simple coffin from the house in which he and Rose had lived and loved to the bridge that stretched over the creek.
At the bridge they surrendered their precious burden to Jan’s six oldest grandsons and great-nephews. Down the road, past the lined mourners they marched, holding themselves erect, most with tears dropping off their grave, trembling young chins.
When Jan’s grandsons and great-nephews reached the gate to the Thoresen homestead, they yielded this honor to the men with whom Jan had shared the closest bonds: Søren, Karl, Kjell, Arnie, Jacob Medford, and Brian McKennie.
Rose and Joy followed behind the procession, accompanied by Sigrün, Uli, Meg, Anna, Kjell and Karl’s wives, Fiona McKennie, Vera Medford, and dozens of grandchildren, grand-nieces and -nephews, and their families. As the family passed by, the mourners lining the road fell in behind them. Joy cast a look back. She realized that every family for miles around was probably present or represented. Her heart swelled with pride and gratitude.
At the entrance of the Thoresen cemetery they paused. The bearers entered and the family followed. The rest of the swelling crowd gathered around the wrought iron fence that bounded the Thoresen plot.
Joy swallowed when she saw the mound of earth heaped at the head of an empty grave. She and Rose drew near and sank onto the chairs someone provided for them. While they waited for everyone to settle, Joy held her mama’s hand and stared at the headstones nearest what would be her father’s grave.
To the left: Elli Katrin Thoresen.
Papa’s first wife.
To the right: Kristen Maria Thoresen.
Papa’s first daughter.
Her papa’s body would rest there until Jesus called him at the last trumpet. Late last evening, Rose, Søren, and Joy had read the passage from 1 Corinthians 15 together and had taken comfort from it.
Behold,
I shew you a mystery;
We shall not all sleep,
but we shall all be changed,
In a moment,
in the twinkling of an eye,
at the last trump:
for the trumpet shall sound,
and the dead
shall be raised incorruptible,
and we shall be changed.
For this corruptible
must put on incorruption,
and this mortal
must put on immortality.
Joy pondered the verses. We shall be changed, and this mortal must put on immortality.
With a start, Joy realized, Why, there is no place for Mama to be buried near Papa! Where will she be buried?
Stung by the unwelcome thought of someday also losing her mother, Joy turned her thoughts aside.
She sought out other headstones nearby: Aunt Amalie, beside her husband, Karl. Several tiny graves: a daughter Søren and Meg had lost in her first year and the two infants Karl and his wife had lost in childbirth. Papa and Elli’s stillborn son.
What had Papa meant when he said, “I bless your children the Lord will give you?” Joy did not understand. She wiped a tear from her cheek. Rose turned to her and squeezed her hand.
“I love you, dear daughter,” was all she said.
“I love you, Mama,” she returned.
Jacob Medford began to read from the Bible.
Jesus said unto her,
I am the resurrection,
and the life:
he that believeth in me,
though he were dead,
yet shall he live:
And whosoever liveth
and believeth in me
shall never die.
Believest thou this?
She saith unto him,
Yea, Lord: I believe that
thou art the Christ,
the Son of God,
which should come
into the world.
The Christ! The Son of God! Thank you, Lord, for the hope of the resurrection, Joy prayed, rejoicing even in her sorrow.
Joy had a thought. I wonder if Papa and Grant can see each other? A sudden realization struck her. Why, they are both waiting for us . . . safe in Jesus. Oh, I am so glad!
Pastor Medford finished his message and prayed, his voice cracking a little, “Now Lord, we ask you to receive your servant, Jan.”
He looked around at the family and the mourners and, with tears streaming down his face, declared in a strong, loud voice, “Jan Thoresen, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!”
—
HOURS LATER, THE CROWD of mourners departed, leaving Joy and Rose by themselves. Joy thought the house felt bare and soulless without her papa. She wondered how her mama would ever be able to sleep in their bed again without him. Joy could not help but remember the long nights without Grant.
Mother and daughter sat together before the fire, and Rose began to ask Joy about Corinth, the lodge, and the girls they had helped escape. She asked about Joy and Uli’s hopes to establish something larger and more effective in Denver. She listened with close attention as Joy described the various ideas she and Uli had discussed.
“We will need a home, perhaps two, with enough bedrooms to accommodate the girls as they leave their old lives. It will be difficult for them to envision hopeful futures—not just to escape those who kept them in bondage, but to also escape the memories and the shame.
“I will seek some mature women who know God’s Word and who can mother these girls, lead them in Bible study, and help them to see themselves the way God sees them when Jesus covers not just our sin but our shame also.
“And businesses. The girls will need new skills and honest employment if they are to truly leave their old lives. We will certainly open my fine furnishings shop first. Then perhaps a small café, a sewing school, and dress and millinery shops—places of training and then gainful employment. Uli has suggested that we could solicit scholarships to send those with aptitude and desire to business school, nursing programs, even teaching . . .
“In the most basic of decisions, these women may require gentle encouragement and support. After all, choice is something that was taken from them entirely. It is a freedom they have not exercised in some time.”
She stopped and looked at Rose. “So much to do, Mama. I know how to run a business, and I believe we can turn profits on every one of our ventures, but even with a profit, we will need to raise more money than I have. The need is very great. Mrs. Van der Pol and her friends, like Grace Minton, have asked how to assist us, but it will be a large work, so much more than I can afford and manage on my own. And . . . it is certain that we will face terrible opposition from some corners.
“Come spring in Corinth I hope to find a way to communicate with the girls in the houses. That may be the most dangerous part. We know this ‘Dean Morgan’ and his hired thugs may retaliate if they find us out.” Her expression darkened. “If God would grant me this, I would hope to see those houses where such evil is practiced closed down forever.”
Rose searched her daughter’s face. “So, you anticipate significant risks, and not merely to the money you have invested.”
Joy leaned forward and whispered, “Yes, so we must be careful but also prepared. Not to strike back, for that is not God’s way. But as Jesus said, we must be ‘wise as serpents and harmless as doves.’”
She took a deep breath and decided to confide in her mother. Trembling, she revealed the dream she’d had and the intricate plan she felt the Lord had led her to formulate.
“Are you sure, Joy?” Rose stared at her daughter with sober eyes. “All those details. Things I do not readily follow—and the expense of it. Money you surely need elsewhere?”
Joy bowed her head for a moment. “No, Mama, I cannot be sure, so I have prepared in the manner I have described to you. But I believe the Lord led me to do so. Standing for those defenseless women in Corinth poses great risk and our only defense is the Lord . . . so is the cost of obedience too much? Mustn’t I obey him if I feel he has given me guidance?”
Rose took Joy’s hand and squeezed it. “Yes, yes you must! I know what it is to hear the Lord tell me to do something daring and dangerous. I am proud—and I know that Papa is proud—that you are careful to obey the Lord, Joy.”
Joy looked into the fire. “I can think of no greater honor than to help these girls reclaim their lives and their futures.”
She paused. “Mama, you and Papa raised me to love God—a heritage I am proud to own. The two of you passed this legacy to me as your daughter and to Søren as your son. I have no children of my own . . . yet I am now the keeper and holder of that legacy. My faith in the Lord stirs me to pass on that great gift, to give that heritage to spiritual daughters since I have none of my own. I feel that I must, that I must give to these girls the hope I have found.
“I almost feel . . .” Her voice tapered off.
Rose leaned toward her. “Yes? What is it, Joy?”
Self-conscious and reticent, Joy laughed. “You may think I am over-spiritualizing this.”
“Try me,” Rose smiled back.
“Well.” Joy was silent a long moment. “I have this deep impression, Mama, this strong sense that everything I have gone through, what I have lost, and the things I have had to endure and overcome—that together they have prepared me to undertake a great work for God. A work to which I can give my all.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I have lived through a fiery trial and, by God’s grace, have survived. Through that fire, I have tested God and found him faithful, but he has tested me, too—tested my trust in him. I have come full circle, into something that is no longer only yours and Papa’s, but my very own.
“What I mean is that I knew Jesus before, but now I have found him anew, in a more complete and ‘adult’ way, perhaps. Now I have my own confidence in him. And in knowing him in such a dear and intimate manner, I feel confident that I have received a call on my life. One that I would never have heard, let alone answered . . . before.”
She looked at her mother, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I am called to give my life to this work, Mama. No matter what it costs, I must follow this through.”
Rose nodded. “I bear witness to that call on you, Joy. And, if you will have me, I will join you. I will come and help mother these young women.”
Joy sat back in shock. “But Mama! How can you? This is your home! You could never leave this place where you and Papa lived together—where he is buried!”
Shaking her head, Rose declared, “Your papa is not here anymore, Joy, and I do not want to live alone in this house with only my memories of him. I have fulfilled my purpose here. Now I must follow where my Lord leads me, just as you must.”
She managed a wry smile. “Joy, you perhaps do not know . . . that I have a little money. My first husband left me well off. Your papa and I have lived a simple life all these years, and the money I have has only grown. That money will be yours one day—should we not invest it where it will produce eternal dividends?”
“But Mama, you must think ahead. Now that Papa is gone . . . you must not risk so much!”
Rose looked back from her own tears. “Ah, Joy. I suppose it is possible that I could lose some or all of my substance, but what is that, in comparison with the legacy we can both hand down to these young women?
“No, I knew when I married your papa that I would outlive him, and I have had quite a bit of time this last year to pray on where and how I would spend the time I have left after Papa went to heaven. I have only been waiting on the Lord for him to illuminate his will for me.”
She straightened. “I will help you buy the homes we need and start the businesses to employ our girls, Joy. What I have is not enough to do all, but God will provide what is lacking.”
They clasped hands and Rose vowed, “I am with you, Joy. I am with you heart and soul.”
~~**~~
