Waves of Mercy

by Lynn Austin

  My eyes fill with tears at the memory of Christina standing beside me in church, singing from the Psalter in her clear, pure soprano. “Yes, you’re right . . . she did have a beautiful voice.”

  “When the ship starts to sink and they make us get into the lifeboats, everyone is terrified! Suddenly a huge wave washes us right out of the boat, and we sink beneath the water. I feel Mama fighting with all her strength to get to the surface, but I think her skirts are making it hard for her to kick, and they pull her down. Father is also trying to stay afloat a few feet away from us. He had been in the lifeboat with us. Mama handed me to him saying, ‘Save my daughter! Save her, please!’ Then, as soon as I was safe in his arms, she sank beneath the waves.”

  Anneke pauses again, and I want to weep at the horror of Christina’s final moments of life. I hope she is looking down from heaven, and that she knows that the daughter she loved until her very last breath has survived. How proud Christina would be of this lovely, poised young woman. I want to meet her adoptive father and thank him for saving my granddaughter. He could have thought only of saving himself.

  “Father had to struggle to keep our heads above the waves,” Anneke continues. “He was growing tired, breathing so hard. Then I saw a man reaching his hand out to us. He was the last man in a long chain of men, all holding hands. He grabbed Father by his lapels saying, ‘I’ve got you . . . I’ve got you now. . . . Hang on, and you’ll both be safe.’”

  “Your grandfather was one of those men. And your Uncle Arie. They helped pull you and the other survivors to shore.” I wait while Anneke gathers herself. This must be so hard for her, but I long to hear more.

  “That’s all I remember about my mama,” Anneke says with a shrug. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have no reason to be sorry. Thank you for sharing those memories with me. I know it must be difficult to relive that day.”

  “Mama loved me with all her heart,” she says, wiping her tears. “I know she did. I was always certain of that. I felt safe and happy when I was with her. . . . And lost and alone after she was gone. Even now as an adult, I still feel alone at times, as if I don’t really belong with all the other people in our social circle. I guess now I know why.” She looks up at me and says, “I’m looking forward to learning more about my mama.”

  A smile spreads across my face. I always smile when I remember how much joy Christina brought to our family. “She was beautiful and independent and strong-willed from the day she was born—always happy and carefree and full of life. She had three older brothers, and she wanted to be just like them and do everything they did. But as she grew older, she became impatient with our quiet life here in Holland. She wanted to explore the world outside our city limits. She was raised in the church, as all of our children were. We taught her right from wrong and what the Bible says about how to live. Then when she was seventeen she met Jack Newell, and he planted doubts in her mind and heart about her Christian faith. Christina knew it was a sin to run away with him if they weren’t married, and so she left without even saying good-bye. She broke our hearts when she did, but our grief was even greater because we knew she was walking away from God. I was overjoyed when she wrote and said she was coming home to us. I wish I knew if she was coming home to God, too.”

  Anneke looks up, staring at me as if she has suddenly remembered something. “She did come back to Him—she came back to God!”

  My heart seems to stop beating. “What? How do you know?”

  “Last winter I stumbled upon a church on LaSalle Street in Chicago. They were having some sort of special event there, and the building looked so familiar to me that I got out of the carriage and went inside. I knew as soon as I stepped through the door that I had been there before. The music, the lights, the way the pews were arranged—everything was so familiar. I listened to the preacher for a few minutes, and his sermon fascinated me. He said God loved me and wanted me for His child. After that first day, I kept going back again and again. It was as if I was being drawn there by pulleys and ropes. When William found out, he got very angry with me and forbid me to go back, but I went anyway. I couldn’t help it. Then I started having dreams about the church, and now I know why. It’s because I went there with Mama. I dreamed that I was sitting beside her in the pew. She gave me peppermints, just like the ones you have on your sitting room table, while she listened to the sermon. The preacher’s words must have touched her heart because she wiped her tears on a plain cotton handkerchief with tiny blue flowers on it.”

  I inhale sharply. “Christina had one like that. I embroidered it for her myself.”

  “In my dream I asked Mama if she was sad, but she said, no, her tears were tears of joy. When I visited the church last winter, the minister always invited people who wanted to repent of their past mistakes to come to Jesus and find forgiveness. He asked them to come forward so he could pray with them. In one of my dreams Mama takes my hand, and we walk down that long aisle together. She knelt at the front and prayed, I’m sure of it.”

  I lower my face in my hands as I begin to sob, remembering how Maarten used to remind me of Jesus’ promise: “‘My sheep hear my voice . . . I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.’” After twenty years of waiting and wondering, God has finally answered my prayer. Now I know for certain that when I join Maarten and Gerrit in heaven someday, Christina will be there with us, too.

  Chapter 39

  Anna

  Holland, Michigan

  1897

  I’ve been staying here with Oma Geesje for nearly a week, and the longer I stay, the more I dread returning to Chicago. I hate my wasteful life in our mansion, which has more bedrooms than we ever use, closetsful of dresses that I wear only once or twice, and tables overflowing with more food than we can possibly eat. Oma’s simpler way of life suits me. I do everything for myself here without servants, even making my own bed. I feel lighter and freer without my petticoats and corsets and gloves and stockings weighing me down. Instead of attending boring teas, I go with Oma to bring meals to people who are sick and deliver warm socks that she has knit herself to needy families. “These are for the cold winter that’s surely coming,” she tells them as she smiles and pats the children’s heads.

  I’ve learned how to dry dishes and to bake cookies, and for the first time in my life I picked a fresh tomato from the vine. I met my wonderful Uncle Arie who lost his leg during the war and who loved my mama dearly. He told me how Mama traveled to the military hospital with Oma and saved his life when he was wounded and in pain and wanting to die. He now runs a print shop like his father and grandfather before him. I also met my Uncle Jakob and Aunt Joanna and their family, including Elizabeth, who could easily be my sister instead of my cousin. And I’ve spent time with my dear friend Derk, who comes over in the evenings after work to chat with Oma and me and eat the cookies we’ve baked.

  We are in Oma’s kitchen, washing the lunch dishes, when a delivery boy comes to the door with a telegram for me. It’s from my father. I tear open the envelope and quickly scan it then let out a groan. “I can’t believe it! My father has made arrangements for me to return to Chicago by train.”

  “When?” Oma asks.

  “Tomorrow.” It’s too soon—much too soon. But whether I’m ready or not, the reservations have been made. I’m going home tomorrow.

  Oma eases onto a kitchen chair, drying her hands on her apron. I can see from her expression that she is sad and disappointed. But then she smiles and says, “Well, we both knew this day was coming, didn’t we?”

  “But it’s too soon! I feel like there’s so much more we need to talk about. I have so many questions I want to ask you about love and marriage and the Bible and our family and—”

  “I know,” she says. “I know.” She studies me for a moment, and I can tell that she’s thinking about something. Then she rises to her feet and walks into the sitting room, beckoning for me to follow her. She pulls a n
otebook from a drawer in her desk and hands it to me.

  “Here, I want you to read this. It’s the story of my life, Anneke, and a little of your mother’s story, too. The city officials asked me to write down my memories to help celebrate Holland’s fiftieth anniversary, but I think it might help you answer some of your questions about marriage and life and faith. You can sit out on the front porch and read it, if you’d like. I’ll finish tidying up.”

  I leaf through the lined pages as I carry it out to a chair on the shady porch. The notebook contains page after page of writing, all in pencil. I’m drawn into Oma Geesje’s story from the very first page, which begins with the words, On the night of my fifteenth birthday, a huge brick shattered the window of Papa’s print shop and ended my childhood. . . .

  I have no idea how much time has passed, but by the time I finish reading, I’m overwhelmed by how much my grandmother has endured during her lifetime. I now see the town of Holland and the people who moved here and built its homes and churches and schools in a new light. Most of all, I marvel at Oma Geesje’s abiding faith in God through it all. I tell her so when she comes outside to sit with me on the porch.

  “It has more to do with God’s faithfulness to me than the other way around,” she replies.

  “But you’ve done so much during your lifetime,” I tell her. “I know God probably has a purpose for my life, too, but I don’t know what it is.”

  She smiles and says in her gentle way, “Often, it’s not one great, dramatic thing that God asks us to do but hundreds of little everyday things. If we want to be used by Him, if we’re ready to be used and aren’t all tangled up with our own plans and projects, then He’ll show us the work He has for us. He sees your heart, Anneke. You can trust Him to direct your path.”

  I think about the train tickets that are waiting for me, and I feel a great heaviness in my chest. “I’m not sure I want to go back to Chicago, Oma. Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong there. It scares me to think that I’ll get all caught up in parties and teas and that superficial life again. I want to stay here. Mama was bringing me back to Holland because she wanted me to live here. With you.”

  Oma is quiet for a long time, and I can see that she is struggling with what she’s about to say. When she’s finally ready, she reaches for my hand. “That may be what your mother wanted, Anneke, but I believe God wanted you to live in Chicago. Otherwise, if He had wanted you to grow up here, then things wouldn’t have happened the way they did. Maarten and I would have learned that you were Christina’s daughter, and we would have brought you home with us. Instead, God placed you in the arms of the father He wanted you to have. As much as I would love for you to stay here with me, I believe your place is in Chicago, in the home where God put you.”

  “But I—” I start to protest, then stop, remembering that my father’s financial problems were the reason I had agreed to reconcile with William. Father saved my life at the risk of his own—maybe now I can repay him. And when William and I talked on the night of the fire, he had seemed willing to change. But there is another reason why I want to stay here, one that I’m reluctant to share with Oma Geesje.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there,” she says as if reading my mind. “Is it because you have feelings for Derk? It’s plain to see that you two care for each other.”

  I nod, staring down at my lap. “We’ve become friends, and I needed a good friend, Oma, someone I could confide in. Derk is the first good friend I’ve had in a long, long time. I wanted to know more about the Bible, and he answered so many of my questions this summer and now . . .” Now my feelings for him have grown stronger each day as we’ve spent time together.

  “I’m glad that Derk could be a friend to you. I can tell that he is very fond of you, too.” Oma sighs before saying, “I’ll admit that I’ve thought about how miraculous it would be if my granddaughter married Hendrik’s grandson. But can you picture Derk living in Chicago and working for your father every day? Can you imagine him fitting into your social world and learning proper manners and all the rules of etiquette and so on?”

  “He would probably feel even more miserable than I do, at times.”

  “I have no doubt that Derk is intelligent enough to do the work that your father does—but that’s not what God has called him to do.”

  “I could stay here—”

  “You, my dear, sweet girl, would be like a fish on land as Derk’s wife. Your Aunt Joanna can tell you that life as a dominie’s wife is a very special calling for a woman. Derk won’t earn very much money, so his wife will have to cook all his meals and clean his house and raise his children—while taking care of all the extra duties her position as a dominie’s wife requires. No, I believe God has prepared you and suited you for a much different future.”

  “I suppose . . . and I did give William my word that I would marry him.”

  “But there’s no hurry to marry, is there? Can you give yourself more time, first? Get to know him better? I advise you to ask God if this is His will for you before you say your vows.”

  I nod, remembering how Oma rushed into marriage with Maarten without taking time to pray. “Right now I feel so much closer to Derk than I do to William even though we’ve only known each other for a short time. I’m able to talk to him like a friend and tell him how I really feel. And he listens to me. Though William and I did have a good talk on the night of the fire, and he promised he would try to be more understanding of my spiritual pursuits. I’m very fond of William, but I don’t love him the way you loved Hendrik.” I pause before asking, “Do you think I could ever learn to love him the way you loved Maarten?”

  “That’s up to you. It means making a decision to love him day after day, one loving act at a time. Love is a very powerful emotion, Anneke, but it’s also a decision—one you can choose to make. I had an advantage because Maarten was such a wonderful man of faith who loved God—and I’m assuming from everything you’ve told me that William isn’t nearly as committed to his faith as Maarten was. Or as Derk is.”

  “No. He isn’t.”

  “Then perhaps you should test the waters a bit before you get married. Talk to him about your faith and see how he responds. In time, you could have the same godly influence on William that Maarten had on me. Imagine all the good that a wealthy man like William could do if his heart was surrendered to God. I can already imagine the good that a woman in your position could do. Think of all the young women like Christina who are trapped in Chicago, poor and alone in a huge city with no family to help them, living in a room like the one you remember, and being taken advantage of by unscrupulous men.”

  “I see what you mean.” And for the first time I feel a glimmer of excitement about returning home.

  “God will lead you every step of the way, Anneke. He knows the plans He has for you, plans for you to prosper and have hope and a future. That’s why He saved you from the shipwreck twenty years ago and gave you to such wonderful parents to raise.” Oma reaches to give me a hug—how I’ve grown to love her hugs! Then she smiles and says, “I need to start making dinner.”

  “Is it that late?”

  “Derk will be coming home from work soon, and I thought we would invite him to eat with us tonight.” Oma returns her notebook to her desk, and we go into the kitchen to make supper together.

  I’m putting plates and cutlery on the table an hour later when Derk arrives. My heart can’t help speeding up when I see him duck through the door, his face and arms bronzed from the summer sun. “How was work, dear?” Oma Geesje asks him.

  “On days like today it hardly seems like work,” he says, running his fingers through his fair hair. “I took guests out sailing on Black Lake twice today, once this morning and again this afternoon. The water was beautiful, the breeze just right. It was great!”

  “Will you stay and have dinner with us?” Oma asks.

  He looks at me and his smile broadens. “I would love to. Let me run home and wash up, then I’ll come back.�
��

  Derk is his usual, cheerful self as we sit down to eat later, but I feel a lingering sadness from reading Oma’s story and from the disappointing news I will have to share with him. “I’m taking the train home to Chicago tomorrow,” I say. “Father sent me a telegram today with all the arrangements.”

  “Oh. I see. I thought you two ladies seemed somber tonight.” And now Derk is somber, too, his broad, handsome smile gone. “Your father didn’t give you very much notice, did he?”

  “No . . . but I suppose I did agree that I would only stay for a week.” We all do our best to keep up a cheerful conversation while we eat, but with little success. None of us seems to have much of an appetite.

  Oma asks Derk to read today’s Bible portion aloud when we finish eating, a ritual she follows every day. Then she says, “Why don’t you two go out on the front porch. I’ll clear up these dishes and join you in a little bit.”

  Derk and I sit side by side on the front steps, staring straight ahead. The evening sky stays light here during the summer months, the sun never setting until after nine o’clock at night. I can tell that neither of us knows what to say or where to begin.

  “Well!” Derk finally says, heaving an enormous sigh. “I can’t believe we have to say good-bye.”

  “We’ll see each other again, I know we will. I’ll be back to visit Oma Geesje and . . .” My voice trails off as I run out of words.

  “I guess I was hoping that there might be a future for us . . . together . . .” We look at each other, and I have an overwhelming urge to kiss him. I quickly turn my face away, sensing that he longs to kiss me, too. “Anna, I know I could never give you all of the things you’re accustomed to . . . and that your way of life is—”

  “That isn’t it at all!” I say, facing him again. “I would love to have a future with you, Derk. You’re the most wonderful, amazing man I’ve ever met!”