that going to Chicago was the best thing for her. And then Vernon Baxter died. Would more training on her part have kept that from happening? Or did God just decide not to help out?
5
I ngeborg stopped in surprise. “I thought you were still sleeping.”
Astrid looked up from her perch on the wide board that topped the low wall of the back porch. “Thought I’d watch the sunrise.” She shook her head slowly. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” Her thick night braid of wheat gold hair hung over her shoulder. While she had dressed in a loose summer shift, she’d added a faded to near white apron over it.
“I’ll have the coffee ready by the time the sun breaks the horizon.”
“I started the stove.”
“Oh, I thought it was Haakan.”
“No, I was adding wood to the first flames when he headed for the barn, Jonathan right behind him.” Astrid leaned her head against the porch post. “Can you sit here with me a moment? Look at those colors.” She pointed toward the eastern horizon.
Ingeborg joined her daughter but remained standing. She stroked Astrid’s hair. “Even those few clouds make the sunrise more beautiful, just like they do the sunset.” She inhaled the sweetness of the honeysuckle vine that was sending pea green tendrils up the strings to the hooks so as to provide shade for those retreating to the porch in the heat of the summer. The summer room, Ingeborg preferred to call it, since they shelled peas, snapped beans, hulled strawberries, hand-sewed garments, and shared lemonade or coffee there. The rocking chairs and the steps were favorite places to work and catch any breeze that deigned to pass through.
The yellow climbing rose that matched the one by the front porch was already covered with buds, the bees hovering, seeking the first sip of nectar.
“Would you like to talk about whatever is keeping you awake?”
Astrid tipped her head back to look into her mother’s face. “What if I don’t want to do surgery? Ever again?”
“Not go to Chicago?” Ingeborg studied her daughter; the decision to go had been so difficult for her.
Astrid nodded. “Why go? After all we did, Vernon died anyway.”
“And that woman who you fought so hard for, she died too. And yet you say you love helping babies into this world.”
Crossing her arms over her bent knees, Astrid rested her chin on them. “I didn’t think of that.”
“As you’ve heard both Elizabeth and me say, we do our best and leave the rest in God’s hands.”
“But God didn’t save Vernon.”
“No, He took Vernon home.” Ingeborg gently pressed her daughter’s cheek into her side. “Life and death are His provenance, not ours.”
“Then why do we try to save lives?”
“Ah, my dear, the questions you ask. There are no easy answers.” Ingeborg stared at the gold rim just breaking the horizon. A rooster crowed, a cow bellowed, as if both of them thought that waking the sun was their personal assignment. Birds twittered in the cottonwood tree, whose arms now shaded the house.
“God’s Word says that we are all given different gifts, all of them for blessing the body of Christ. By helping someone feel better, I feel as if I am walking in His shoes. Jesus went around healing the sick, restoring sight to the blind, and making the lame walk again. He showed His love through those events.”
Astrid waited while a tear meandered down her cheek.
Ingeborg realized she had never spoken like this with Astrid before. “He calls us to be like Him. The greatest gift of all is love. Even though sometimes it is not easy. And He calls us to be close to Him. I feel the closest when I help that baby take its first breath, and when I close the eyes of someone who has passed on to glory. Life and death—all part of who we are—along with everything in between. I believe He calls you to use those same gifts, and now it is your job to learn to use them to the best of your ability.”
“You want me to go to Chicago?”
“If that
5
I ngeborg stopped in surprise. “I thought you were still sleeping.”
Astrid looked up from her perch on the wide board that topped the low wall of the back porch. “Thought I’d watch the sunrise.” She shook her head slowly. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” Her thick night braid of wheat gold hair hung over her shoulder. While she had dressed in a loose summer shift, she’d added a faded to near white apron over it.
“I’ll have the coffee ready by the time the sun breaks the horizon.”
“I started the stove.”
“Oh, I thought it was Haakan.”
“No, I was adding wood to the first flames when he headed for the barn, Jonathan right behind him.” Astrid leaned her head against the porch post. “Can you sit here with me a moment? Look at those colors.” She pointed toward the eastern horizon.
Ingeborg joined her daughter but remained standing. She stroked Astrid’s hair. “Even those few clouds make the sunrise more beautiful, just like they do the sunset.” She inhaled the sweetness of the honeysuckle vine that was sending pea green tendrils up the strings to the hooks so as to provide shade for those retreating to the porch in the heat of the summer. The summer room, Ingeborg preferred to call it, since they shelled peas, snapped beans, hulled strawberries, hand-sewed garments, and shared lemonade or coffee there. The rocking chairs and the steps were favorite places to work and catch any breeze that deigned to pass through.
The yellow climbing rose that matched the one by the front porch was already covered with buds, the bees hovering, seeking the first sip of nectar.
“Would you like to talk about whatever is keeping you awake?”
Astrid tipped her head back to look into her mother’s face. “What if I don’t want to do surgery? Ever again?”
“Not go to Chicago?” Ingeborg studied her daughter; the decision to go had been so difficult for her.
Astrid nodded. “Why go? After all we did, Vernon died anyway.”
“And that woman who you fought so hard for, she died too. And yet you say you love helping babies into this world.”
Crossing her arms over her bent knees, Astrid rested her chin on them. “I didn’t think of that.”
“As you’ve heard both Elizabeth and me say, we do our best and leave the rest in God’s hands.”
“But God didn’t save Vernon.”
“No, He took Vernon home.” Ingeborg gently pressed her daughter’s cheek into her side. “Life and death are His provenance, not ours.”
“Then why do we try to save lives?”
“Ah, my dear, the questions you ask. There are no easy answers.” Ingeborg stared at the gold rim just breaking the horizon. A rooster crowed, a cow bellowed, as if both of them thought that waking the sun was their personal assignment. Birds twittered in the cottonwood tree, whose arms now shaded the house.
“God’s Word says that we are all given different gifts, all of them for blessing the body of Christ. By helping someone feel better, I feel as if I am walking in His shoes. Jesus went around healing the sick, restoring sight to the blind, and making the lame walk again. He showed His love through those events.”
Astrid waited while a tear meandered down her cheek.
Ingeborg realized she had never spoken like this with Astrid before. “He calls us to be like Him. The greatest gift of all is love. Even though sometimes it is not easy. And He calls us to be close to Him. I feel the closest when I help that baby take its first breath, and when I close the eyes of someone who has passed on to glory. Life and death—all part of who we are—along with everything in between. I believe He calls you to use those same gifts, and now it is your job to learn to use them to the best of your ability.”
“You want me to go to Chicago?”
“If that
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