Good Heavens by Margaret A. Graham

financial situation is best handled by the director and the board, not by you, the resident manager. Miss Ursula told you I authorized a bank loan to cover all the bills and enough to tide you over until there’s a response to the prayer letter. Out of the goodness of her heart she went along with your asking our creditors for extensions; however, the board has always handled our shortfall professionally, by a bank loan.”
    As if that wasn’t enough, he was not through. “Now this other thing, this business of your spending your own money to buy groceries disturbs me more than anything. Esmeralda, the board did not hire you to play God up there.”
    My blood pressure shot straight through the roof. “Roger Elmwood, I was led to believe that this is a faith ministry, and in my book, faith means trusting the Lord to provide. As for my spending my own money, let me remind you that before Jesus fed the multitudes he had the disciples bring him what they had. That’s all I was doing—just giving the Lord my loaves and fishes.”
    Before he could say one word, I set him straight aboutUrsula. “And as for me getting on Ursula’s nerves, I’d like to go on record as saying that she gets on my nerves, too!”
    He cleared his throat. “You listen to me, Esmeralda, it’s up to you to make this thing work. If you two can’t get along, one of you will have to go. I must warn you that the board is not only satisfied with Miss Ursula, we feel fortunate to have a director with a master’s degree.”
    I felt like spitting in his eye! “Mr. Elmwood, the Lord brought me here, and it’s here I’ll be until the Lord tells me it’s time to go!”
    â€œI see,” he said. “Oh yes, Mabel says to tell you hello.”
    â€œHave you finished?”
    â€œYes, I’ve finished.”
    â€œThen I’m hanging up,” I said and slammed down the receiver. The nerve of that big bag of wind! I was so mad I could have spit gumdrops.
    There was no use trying to sleep, so I sat in my chair and fumed. I was so hurt and so mad I couldn’t help it; tears just spilled over. Splurgeon said, “Words often wound more than swords,” and that’s the truth if ever I heard it. You wouldn’t believe the thoughts that went through my mind. I felt like packing up and leaving—getting out of the house before anybody else got up. Ursula was nothing but a snake in the grass—there was no way I could put up with that high-handed, know-it-all, walking dictionary! She couldn’t speak a sentence but what she used them jawbreakers nobody could understand. She called herself a Christian, but there wasn’t a woman inthe house who would want to be a Christian if Ursula was the only example they ever saw.
    Dr. Elsie has been on the board longer than Roger Elmwood, and she’d not stand for him dressing me down the way he did. I would have called her right then and there if she was not way up yonder in Vermont taking care of her sick sister.

    It was about 3:00 in the morning before I wore myself out and figured I better get a grip before I had to face Ursula and the women at breakfast. I got out my old King James and opened it. If ever I needed a word from the Lord it was then and there.
    My Bible was so full of stuff, and it was so marked up and falling apart, I had to handle it carefully. The way I found things in it was funny. I had a hard time remembering chapters and verses—references, you know—but I could remember what side of the page it was on and even where it was at, top or bottom. Most of the time I remembered the book a verse was in but not always. Still, I could usually find what I was looking for, and if I couldn’t I had a concordance in back.
    Like I said, I needed some word to help me get through the coming day, but I couldn’t think of anything right off the bat, so I opened to the Psalms, which always