Edge of the Wilderness - By Stephanie Grace Whitson Page 0,9
and put up while you’re outside.”
But Gen paused at the doorway. Turning around, she asked abruptly, “Does God—does He ever ask His children to do things they really don’t want to do?”
“Constantly,” came the abrupt reply. Miss Jane looked over her glasses again. “Does that surprise you?”
Gen shook her head. “Not really. At the mission school we memorized all kinds of verses about giving one’s life to save it, and sacrificing yourself.” She sighed. “But I’m new at really wanting to live what the Scriptures teach. Sometimes I think I’ll never learn it all.” She bit her lower lip.
“What is it, dear?” Miss Jane prodded. “You know you can ask me anything.”
“What about the promise that He will give us the desires of our heart? Doesn’t He ever give us what we want?”
Miss Jane dried her hands and leaned against the sink while she talked. “I don’t think that promise means God gives us what we want. At least not in the way you mean. I think it means He shapes our desires. And He does give us everything we need. We need to be loved. God gives us His perfect love. We need someone to share our lives with. God promises to never leave us. We need to know who we are, why we are here, where we are going. God tells us.”
“I know all that,” Gen said impatiently. “I was talking about more practical things. Everyday things.”
Miss Jane bent down and picked Hope up. “When God says no to something His children want, it is because He has something better for them. It’s not just a cliché, Gen. He does what is best. Always.”
“Did you feel God was doing what was best for you when your fiancé died?” Gen asked abruptly.
Miss Jane shook her head. “No. I didn’t.”
“But you feel that way, now?”
Miss Jane didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Absolutely.” She kissed Hope on the cheeks, gave the baby a cracker, and set her back on the floor. “If I had married Andrew, I would never have become a teacher.” She looked at Gen with a mischievous smile. “And I am a much better teacher than I would ever have been a wife.” She sighed, picking up a fresh dish towel. “Don’t misunderstand me. It took a while before I stopped longing for the leeks of Egypt. Even after twenty years, there are still times when I don’t especially like being a spinster. But this I know: in a hundred million years, it will not matter if I was Mrs. Andrew Ganesborough. It will matter if I stepped through the open doors God gave me after He called Andrew home to heaven.” She smiled at Gen. “God was patient and He brought me through. He will do the same for you.”
Gen leaned against the screen door, her hands behind her back. “Simon wants me to marry him.”
“Of course he does,” Miss Jane answered matter-of-factly. Her blue-gray eyes sparkled with amusement.
Gen looked at her, startled. “You aren’t surprised.”
“Not in the least,” Miss Jane said. “Everyone has expected it.”
Gen sighed. “He asked me weeks ago.” She walked back to the kitchen table and sat down. “Nina Whitney once told me a marriage doesn’t have to be based on romance to be right.”
Miss Jane nodded. “I’ve seen many good marriages that began as friendships. So have you.”
Reaching up to touch the frill of lace at her throat, Gen said quietly, “Last week, after we went down and saw the prisoners from Fort Snelling leave for the new reservation, I came back here and took that beaded necklace—the one Two Stars gave me—I took it off. Hearing the Dakota singing after all they’d been through—I told you how it affected me. I felt a new determination to have my life count for something. I even pictured myself putting my future in my hands and tossing it up to God—the way Mrs. Riggs said she used to do with her burden for her Indian students at the mission.” Gen continued to fumble with the lace on her collar. “I thought the thing I could do to count for God was to marry Simon and be a mother for the children. I even waited up for him to come home from a meeting one night. I was going to tell him. To say yes.” Gen’s voice quavered. “But when I heard his steps come up the walk, I . . . I just couldn’t go through with it.” She looked at Miss Jane and drew her