Chapter 3
The Dedication . . . Looking Forward

My friends of Miracle Springs . . .” Rev. Rutledge was saying, and I glanced up in surprise to see that Mr. Peters had finished and was just settling back into his seat. “My friends, this is indeed a great day for all of us! This is far more than the dedication of a new building. Of course, I would not downplay the importance of what a new church can mean to a community, nor what having a school building right here in our town will mean to the future of our young people. But this is more than the dedication of a building to these noble and worthy ends, for we stand embarking on a new era. . . .”

I know I was distracting Pa, and I hoped Rev. Rutledge didn’t see me, but I had brought paper and a pencil with me, and I was trying to write down some of what the minister said. I knew this was a big day for Miracle, and I wanted to be able to put as much in my journal about it as I could. Pa didn’t cotton to the idea of my writing so much, though by then he was starting to get used to it.

Rev. Rutledge was still talking. “. . . it’s a time, my friends and neighbors, when many communities around this expanding nation, communities like our own, are growing, a time when families are putting down roots. The pioneering days of uncertainty and lawlessness are drawing to a close. The statehood of our great California symbolizes the westward reach from shore to shore of a destiny that surely can be seen as in the Almighty’s plan to tame this land and make it fruitful and prosperous among the nations of the world.

“And part of that destiny is surely the establishment of churches throughout the land, and the education of our young people with schooling. Therefore, I count it a privilege and a blessing to stand here today, as one of God’s representatives, in this building erected with the toil and sweat and the hard-earned money of a good number of you men, and to take my share along with you in dedicating it to God’s purposes, and to the future generations of Miracle Springs. . . .”

As he spoke, I thought about how much Rev. Rutledge also had changed in the months since he came. That first day he spoke to the townsfolk in the saloon, he seemed none too sure of himself. After yelling out his first sermon, even us kids could tell he was more than just a little nervous when the men started to rile him. And afterward he left the building like a dog with his tail between his legs.

But he’d gradually improved since then, and tried to say things so folks could understand them better. He still sometimes talked with a lot of religious words, and Mrs. Parrish had a way of saying things I could grab onto better, but I was getting so I could follow him easier than before. As I watched him today, speaking out with confidence and all the folks listening to him, I realized that he’d become a part of the community too. Men like Pa might not have thought of him as a friend exactly, and everybody wasn’t in favor of a church building coming to town, but I guess they were used to the minister enough to tolerate his staying around. Most of the grumbling about “too much civilization” had nearly ended by the day of the picnic. Even the men who were set against it at first managed to have a happy time too.

I glanced up and realized I’d been daydreaming again.

“So I thank you personally for your support of this building project,” Rev. Rutledge was saying. “Men of stout heart and vigor have given a great deal to this school and church, and you can all be proud of them—men like Mr. Hollister there—” Pa squirmed a little as he said it—“And Mr. Shaw and Mr. Timmons, and so many others of you. And not just the men, but you women too, with food and drink and encouragement—and some of you even drove a few nails!

“But in addition to the construction of this church, I owe you thanks for the support you have given me as your minister. When I came to Miracle Springs last November there were a good many of you unsure whether you wanted a parson in your midst! And I must admit to being disheartened at times along the way. But owing to the encouragement of the faithful among you, I think we have managed to become accustomed to one another, and can now begin to move forward, growing together spiritually.”

I knew he meant Mrs. Parrish. She had been his only friend for the first several months, and even now was the only person in Miracle Springs who was with him very often. Some of the other folks would have him over to their place for a Sunday dinner, but you’d see Mrs. Parrish and him together during the week, and it seemed like every time I went to visit her, he was either coming or going or staying for supper. Folks more-or-less figured that someday they’d get married. I guess I figured that too, because Mrs. Parrish had wanted him to come to Miracle so bad and had seemed more than just a little partial to him since then.

And Rev. Rutledge was softer-spoken now on account of being around Mrs. Parrish so much. He didn’t preach about hell hardly ever anymore, and he seemed glad to have some of the rowdy men come to meetings on Sunday even if he knew they’d be drinking and fighting again later in the week. So it seemed Mrs. Parrish was taming Rev. Rutledge, and I suppose that’s part of what a woman’s supposed to do when she marries a man.

I could see why he’d admire her, for Mrs. Parrish was a fine lady. She was always thinking of others and trying to do what she could to help them. I knew how much she’d done for me in just a year. Even as I scribbled down what I could of what the minister was saying, my mind went back to that day a few months earlier when she’d come back from Sacramento. She rode all the way out to the cabin to see us, and when she got me alone for a moment she handed me a little package, wrapped up in pretty blue paper.

“Open it,” she’d said as I stared back at her, not exactly knowing what to think.

I untied the ribbon, then slipped my finger through the edge of the paper and unfolded it. Inside was a gorgeous little book with green and orange flowers designed on a cloth cover, bound together by a tan leather spine.

“What is it?” I asked. “It’s beautiful!”

“Open the pages,” she said, smiling so big she could hardly contain it. I opened the book right in the middle and found nothing but blank pages staring back at me. I flipped all through it and there wasn’t a single word anywhere.

I must have looked puzzled because she started laughing.

“It’s for your journal, Corrie,” she said. “I had it specially bound for you in Sacramento.”

“But it’s . . . it’s—it’s just like a book!” I exclaimed in disbelief.

“It is a book. Real book pages, bound in calf-leather. I had it made at a bindery.”

“Oh, Mrs. Parrish!” I said. “I don’t know what to say! How can I ever thank you?”

“I thought it was high time you graduated from that tablet I got for you last Christmas. But look inside the front cover!”

I did so. There, embossed in gold, just like it was the title of a book, were the words—The Journal of Corrie Belle Hollister.

I treasured that volume, carrying it with me wherever I went for the next two weeks, being extra careful over everything I wrote in it, trying to make it as neat as I could so the inside would look as good as the outside. Pa was probably right about me being a mite fanatical, and when Mrs. Parrish gave me the book, it only made me think about writing things down all the more.

So I could see easily enough why Rev. Rutledge would be taken with Mrs. Parrish, and would want to say his thanks to her, even though he didn’t do it in so many words. For the way I figured it, that church building was as much her doing as it was Pa’s or the minister’s or anybody else’s. If it hadn’t been for her, there wouldn’t have been a Rev. Rutledge in Miracle, and no church built either.

As I’d been thinking about him and Mrs. Parrish, the minister had gone right on talking.

“So let us be hopeful as we move into the future together—hopeful that blessings will come as a result of this building we have built. Let us now join our hearts together in prayer to the God who has given us strength to accomplish this task in His name.”

He paused, and throughout the small building everyone bowed their heads.

“Almighty God, we thank thee for blessings thou abundantly bestowest on us thy servants and children. And now, our Lord and our God, we dedicate this building to thy service and thy glory. May we be ever mindful of thee when we enter herein, and may this church be a light to the lost and weary of the world. We pray, too, that the school which will also utilize this building will be a beacon for the light of truth for every child who comes here to learn. Let those of this community support both this church and this school with our time and our resources and our energies for the ongoing work. May both the church and the school of Miracle Springs grow to influence this town and this community for good and for thy glory. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost we pray. Amen.”