Happiness is not the end of life, character is—Harriet Beecher Stowe
BLYTHE’S HAND tightened on Jeff’s small one as she made her way across the bustling wharf to board their ship for the Atlantic crossing. Noise and confusion surrounded them as they pushed their way through the crush of people—passengers accompanied by family and friends seeing them off, sailors hurrying past, porters trundling carts of baggage, dock hands shouting instructions—all made up the mix of humanity at the Norfolk Harbor waterfront.
Blythe, her face flushed and mouth tense, almost managed to reach the gangplank with Jeff in tow. However, now he lagged behind, fascinated by all the dockside activity.
“Come along, Jeffi” she urged him.
Above them on the ship’s deck a young officer leaned on the railing to observe the scene on the dock and saw the little tableau below. Watching the slender, attractive young woman in a stylish beige traveling suit coaxing the handsome little boy forward, he thought with anticipation that this routine trip from America that he made twice a year might be more interesting than usual.
But if Lieutenant Michael Walden had any hopes of striking up a pleasant companionship during the trip to England, they were soon dashed. In polite but coolly definite terms, Mrs. Dorman-Montrose made it perfectly clear that she desired to spend her time in her deck chair reading, or with her son.
The boy, however, was all over the ship, making friends with everyone from stewards to the captain himself. But a “Good morning,” “Nice day,” or “Good evening” were about as far as the hopeful lieutenant was able to get with the mother.
For Jeff’s sake she tried to be cheerful when they were together, but his sociable nature led him to seek out others, and she was alone during much of the time on ship. Blythe had much to occupy her mind. The depression that had gripped her in the wake of leaving Mayfield returned to plague her; all the haunting “might-have-beens” remained.
She felt terribly young and vulnerable, “storm-tossed’, as the composer of one of her favorite hymns described a troubled soul. Never had she felt more alone than on this voyage.
She struggled against the self-pity of a parent left alone to bring up a boy. Since she had lost Malcolm and now Rod, the only man she had truly loved, she must be both father and mother to Jeff. With that thought came the realization that she might have to face the rest of her life alone.
Filled with self-reproach, she remembered her failure to reach out for what Rod Cameron was offering. What a wonderful father he would have been to Jeff! She had no doubt that Rod would have accepted Malcolm’s son as his own and brought Jeff up in the long tradition of honor and loyalty that was his own.
Whenever she had found herself lacking clear direction, Blythe turned to the one Source which had been her strength and mainstay through all the lonely years. At night in her cabin, with Jeff sound asleep in the next bunk, she opened her Bible and searched diligently for words of encouragement.
It comforted her to read the stirring assurance from the book of Joshua that had bolstered her sinking spirits at other times: “Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”
Blythe knew it was useless to look back, too late to imagine what she should have done all those years ago. What was important now, as Paul admonished in Philippians 3:13, was to “forget those things which are behind and reach forward to those things which are ahead—”
As the ocean voyage drew to its close, Blythe realized that the days on shipboard had not been wasted. The time she had spent studying the Scriptures had given her new insight and renewed resolve to go on and, with God’s help, to build a life for herself and Jeff that would enrich them both.
The night before the first faint green rim of the Irish coast was sighted, Blythe stayed up late, reading and praying for some word of guidance she could cling to in the days ahead. Just before she closed her Bible, she felt led to turn back to the well-worn pages of Isaiah. There she found what she had been looking for.
“Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.”
Suddenly, Blythe felt new energy surging through her. God had never failed her when she had called upon Him. He would not forsake her now. No matter that there would be times of regret, times of self-recrimination, as there would surely be, she would memorize this verse, hold fast to it, believe that in her “wilderness,” in her “desert,” God would make a way for her.