“Coming,” he replied, and the pastor gave a nod before turning and heading down the stairs. Richard grabbed his coat and hat and followed, hoping that he would find the inspiration he needed to finish his sermon while out visiting the needier members of the congregation. The Lord could speak to his mind and heart while he was on the move just as easily as when he was sitting still, glaring at a blank piece of paper.
Tom White from the hotel was out front of the parsonage, helping some of the waitresses climb down from the back of his wagon. “I hope we’ve brought enough food,” he said to Pastor Osbourne. “I know how hard this time of year can be for folks.”
“Thank you, Tom. It’s true that many are struggling, but what a great opportunity the town has to rally together and show their support.” Pastor Osbourne turned and grinned at Richard. “Have you ever seen so many meat pies in your life?”
“No, I haven’t. What a generous gift.” Richard nodded appreciatively. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Well, I hoped we could convince these young ladies to help with our deliveries,” Pastor Osbourne said, nodding toward the waitresses.
“We have a few hours before our next shift,” Miranda said, and the others nodded.
“Excellent.” The pastor turned back to Richard. “We’ll put the pies in the baskets and then begin our rounds. Reverend Bing will be here shortly to collect the items for his parishioners. I assume you don’t mind if I give you a list and send you around with a few helpers, do you? We’ll get it done faster if we split up.”
“Of course not,” Richard said. If he couldn’t find an address, he trusted that one of his helpers would be able to direct him, and this was good practice for him to learn his way around town.
Everyone entered the church and worked together to put the final touches on the Christmas baskets. Richard caught a few glimpses of Miranda as she bustled here and there in the midst of the other girls. She didn’t seem to be paying him much attention, but he supposed that was all right. He was supposed to be mulling over his sermon, not allowing himself to be distracted by his own worries and cares.
With the baskets finished, Pastor Osbourne handed out a few separate lists. “Olivia and I will take Nora with us, if that’s all right with you, Nora.” She nodded, and he continued. “Reverend Bing and Millie will need a few helping hands, so Emma and Regina, could you go along with them? That puts Miranda and Carrie helping Pastor Norton.”
Richard didn’t dare glance over at Miranda. No doubt Pastor Osbourne had gotten himself into the matchmaking business.
“Now, we’ve borrowed some sleds from the local children to make it easier to carry the baskets,” Mrs. Osbourne said. “Six baskets can fit on every sled, so if we each pull one sled, we should be able to do this fairly easily.”
“As we go, please remember that we’re on the Lord’s errand,” Pastor Osbourne added. “We are sent to uplift and encourage. If you feel moved upon to leave a gospel message, please do so, and if you encounter any situations of illness or other hardship, please relay that information to me so I can pay a follow-up visit. Thank you for your help, everyone, and let’s go spread some Christmas cheer.”
Each group loaded up their sleds, and they were off. Richard was relieved to see that they would be able to take all the baskets for their full list—he disliked having to backtrack and much preferred to do things in one go.
“I hope you ladies know your way around town,” he said, reading the first name.
“We’ll make sure you don’t get lost,” Carrie teased. “The closest house is actually the third down the list—turn right.”
Richard watched to make sure the two girls were able to pull the weight of their sleds. Once satisfied that they were handling the task without strain, he followed them down the street, Carrie taking the lead.
The first few houses they visited were tiny places with a few children in each. Richard couldn’t help but grin whenever he saw a little face peering out from behind a mother’s skirts as she accepted their basket. He noticed that the fourth house didn’t have a fire in the hearth, and he offered to chop some wood. The elderly woman was grateful for his help, and Miranda and Carrie didn’t seem to mind the pause in their deliveries, visiting with the homeowner while Richard worked up a sweat with the ax.
They met people who were struggling with illness or to find work, women whose husbands had passed away, elderly with no family nearby to care for them. In each case, Richard sought to find the right words for their situation, hoping that he was bringing them not only a basket, but a bit of cheer. As he did so, though, he couldn’t help but think back on his conversation with Miranda, and hoped that his words were useful rather than condescending. When would he learn the difference? All he could do was rely on Pastor Osbourne’s advice and believe that it was all for the eventual good.
At last, all the baskets were delivered, and they headed back toward the parsonage with their empty sleds. Richard was in the lead as they trudged along, his head down, studying his feet as he pondered everything that had happened that day. As much as he’d tried to concentrate on the people they were visiting, his eyes had kept drifting to Miranda, and he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d get along as a pastor’s wife. Would she be willing to make visits like this on a regular basis? Would she be patient with him as he blundered along through the dozens of mistakes he was sure to make? He could see her handling those things quite well, but if they didn’t share the same beliefs, what possible difference would that make?
He’d just turned onto Main Street when he felt something hit the small of his back, and he craned to see over his shoulder. The remnants of a snowball were stuck to his coat, and the two waitresses walking some distance behind him looked altogether too innocent.
“Snowballs, eh?” He glanced from one to the other. “I’m very surprised. Aren’t we a bit too old for throwing snowballs?”
“Sorry, Pastor Norton,” Carrie said, seeming embarrassed.
“I should hope so. You young ladies should demonstrate more decorum.” As he spoke, he bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. “There’s a certain level of dignity that’s expected when you’re on church business, you know.” He pressed the snow together between his hands and lobbed it, bouncing it off Miranda’s shoulder.
“Yes, Pastor Norton. That’s exactly what I was just telling Carrie. Dignity.” Miranda scooped up some snow of her own, and within seconds, all three of them were in the fray, forming snowballs as quickly as they could and flinging them through the air. Things were decidedly unfair, though—the girls had teamed up against him, and no matter how quickly he moved, they were landing far more shots than he was.
Miranda’s cheeks had pinked up in the cold, and her laughter was contagious. Several of her dark curls had tumbled down from beneath her hat to frame her face, and the entire effect was breathtaking. Richard paused for a moment, drinking in the sight, knowing he was giving the girls even more of an advantage, but he couldn’t help it. In the light snow that had begun to fall, Miranda looked like a Christmas angel come to life, and he couldn’t collect his thoughts. There was only her—no other sounds, no other people. Just her.
“We’d better get back to the hotel,” Carrie said, her voice cutting through his distracted state. “It’s time for us to get ready for our meal shift.”
Richard blinked. “Of course. Let me take your sleds—you two go ahead.”
Carrie handed him the rope handle of her sled and hurried away. Miranda, though, didn’t seem to be in as much of a rush. When she gave him the handle to her sled, their hands brushed against each other, and he saw her take a quick breath.
“Today’s been a lot of fun,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze.
“It has been. I’d forgotten how well you make snowballs.”
She looked at him now and grinned. “That’s something you should never forget.”
“Oh, believe me. Lesson learned.” He wanted to say something else, something meaningful, but the words just wou
ldn’t come. He didn’t even know what they should be. Instead, he reached out and took her hand. “I know we’re both busy over the next few days, but can you spare a moment for me? Find time for a short walk . . .”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She studied his eyes. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”
Her comment seemed rather out of the blue, but he knew exactly what she meant. “No, it’s not. But . . . we’ll figure it out. Somehow.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but then simply nodded and turned to follow Carrie. Richard watched her go, then pulled the sleds back to the parsonage. All the joy he’d felt in delivering the baskets seemed swallowed up in the hole left when she walked away, and he didn’t know how to correct that problem. Not to mention the blank sheets of paper that were still waiting for him on his desk.
Chapter Six
This was no good. It was no good at all. Miranda had made the decision to stop daydreaming about Richard Norton, but ever since the snowball fight, he was all she could think about. She wasn’t even doing her job properly—the other girls had to keep reminding her of her tasks.
The food for the Christmas Eve dinner they’d be serving that night smelled wonderful. The pot of wassail had been started even though it was just nine in the morning, and the combined fragrances of cinnamon and orange tickled her senses.
“Now this is what I call a Christmas celebration,” Mrs. Dupree said, entering the dining room and looking around with appreciation. “You’ve all done a beautiful job getting ready for the holidays, Miranda.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dupree. Your praise is worth a great deal to us—we hope we’ve made you proud.”
Mrs. Dupree seemed a little misty-eyed as she nodded. “I admit, it was hard for me to leave the hotel after everything I’d done to get it up and going in the first place, but I’ve never worried about it for a second. It’s been in the best of hands since I left.”
Elizabeth entered the dining room a moment later, little Rose on her hip. “It’s time for church,” she announced. “Tom has the buggy ready for anyone who’s coming.”
Miranda swallowed. “I’m coming,” she said, her voice sounding a little strained. She’d been wrestling with that decision for most of the night, trying to decide what to do. She didn’t want to give anyone the false impression that she’d somehow managed to put aside her feelings of doubt and was now a faithful convert, but she also didn’t want to miss Richard’s first sermon. Friendship finally won out over pride, and she had dressed in blue muslin rather than her usual work clothes when she climbed out of bed.
Elizabeth smiled, most likely unaware of how difficult it had been for Miranda to make that choice. “All right. I’ll meet you out there.”
Josie, Kate, and Nora were the only other waitresses who elected to come—the others were either preparing for the first Sunday train or weren’t interested in the sermon. Mr. Brody drove them, as he did every Sunday—he wasn’t the sort to run around quoting scripture at every opportunity, but he was a religious man, and it showed in the way he treated people.
As Miranda took her seat, she looked around nervously to see who else was there. Was Richard used to standing up in front of so many people, or would he be surprised to enter the chapel and see the crowd that had gathered?
“I can’t imagine why Pastor Osbourne would turn over the pulpit to someone so untested,” whispered a woman sitting directly behind Miranda. “This is his first assignment—he’s sure to make an utter mess of it. And on Christmas Eve!”
“I met him the other day, and I think he’s a perfectly nice young man,” a second woman replied.
“Being nice isn’t the only qualification,” the first woman insisted. “Can he deliver the word of God, or can’t he? I find it hard to believe that someone so young could possibly have the life experience needed for this sort of position.”
“Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt,” her friend said. “It would be a shame if we disqualified him before we even knew his capabilities for certain.”
Miranda was aching to turn around and see who’d been having this most interesting conversation—mostly so she could glare at the first woman—but knew that wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she kept her face turned to the front, determined that Richard would see at least one friendly smile when he looked that direction.
***
“Are you ready?” Pastor Osbourne asked, sticking his head into the small office to the side of the chapel.
“If it’s time, then yes, I’m ready.” Richard had done all he could to prepare, and now it was up to the holy spirit to carry the message to the hearts of his listeners. He just hoped that he’d done his part in a way that would be pleasing to the Lord.
After he’d returned from delivering the Christmas baskets, he’d hunkered down in his room with a stack of fresh papers and with any luck, a fresh perspective. He’d told Pastor Osbourne that he’d be able to handle the assignment, but with every passing moment, his doubt grew until he was tempted to find the pastor and turn him down after all. It wasn’t until sometime after midnight that he’d finally hit upon the real heart of the message he wanted to give, and now he hoped he could deliver it appropriately, given how little sleep he’d had.
He exited the office and took his place at the head of the chapel, pulling in a deep breath when he saw how many people had gathered that morning. Was this typical of the attendance on a holiday? He couldn’t see a single empty seat in the entire building.
The choir—those members who hadn’t lost their voices due to illness—would be performing a medley of carols before his sermon began. Mrs. Osbourne passed him as she took her place as the conductor, and she whispered, “You’ll do an excellent job, Richard. I know you will.” Her belief in him was touching, and he sat a little straighter as the music began to play.
As he listened, he continued to glance out into the congregation until he found the one face he’d been searching for, and he smiled. Miranda had come. He didn’t think she’d let him take this leap alone, but he’d been worried that her dissonance with God would keep her away. Whatever she was going through, she’d put it to the side and had come to support him. That meant more to him than he could even express, and he was reminded again of Pastor Osbourne’s comments about having a good woman in his corner. With her in his life, he felt he could do anything, accomplish any task that was put before him. Amazing how quickly she’d come to mean so much to him.
With the choir’s performance complete, it was now time for Richard to take the pulpit, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment to steady himself. He’d sought the will of the Lord countless times through the night, and now he renewed his petition for guidance. If he could lighten someone’s burden, if he could bring a glimmer of hope into just one heart, he’d know he’d filled his role well.
“Good morning,” he said as he gripped the sides of the pulpit. “My name is Richard Norton. I’m a recent seminary graduate, and this is my first assignment. I’m honored to serve among you, and I hope that in time, I’ll know each of your names and your faces and your hearts as well as my own.”
He swallowed, and Miranda smiled at him encouragingly. If only the choir performance had lasted just a few minutes longer . . .
“As I prepared for this morning’s sermon, I’ll confess that it weighed heavily on my mind. I wanted to bring you a message of comfort and hope, to share the good news of the gospel and to usher in the true spirit of Christmas as we celebrate the greatest gift the world has ever known. No matter how I approached this topic, however, I felt insufficient to the task. It seemed that no number of shepherds or wise men could convey the deepest feelings of my heart, and so instead of concentrating on the birth of Christ, I decided to concentrate on the end of His life—yes, even His death.”
He noticed a few members of the congregation glancing at each other with confusion on their faces, and he hurried on to explain.
“Yes, it’s rather odd to be discussing t
he death of Jesus Christ on the holiday that celebrates His birth, and yet there was no other way that I could convey the majesty of the message I want to bring you today, and that is this—Jesus Christ is in very word and deed our Savior, our King, our Redeemer, and His love for each and every one of us is infinite and eternal.”
Miranda was now looking down at her lap, and Richard felt his heart reaching toward her. How could he help her understand the truthfulness of the things he was about to say? It was not the will of God to force anyone to worship Him, and that’s not what Richard wanted either. He hoped she’d come to a testimony of her own, and if she didn’t . . . well, if she didn’t, that was her choice. It would be disappointing because he’d always feel like she was missing out on the greatest treasures of life, but if she didn’t view them as treasures herself . . .
He swallowed again and forged on.
“When we think about Jesus Christ, our minds automatically go to His greatness and glory. We are taught that He resides on high, and surely He does. But let’s pause for a moment and consider all that He gave up to be born on the earth as a mortal man. He was not raised in a mansion or a palace, which would be much more fitting the Son of God. Instead, he was raised in a humble home as the son of a tradesman, a carpenter. His clothes were not the finest linen—His food was not the choicest meat.
“From the time He began His ministry, He experienced every sort of scourging, mocking, and opposition imaginable. He was doubted and questioned at each turn. He faced ridicule no matter where He went. He gained followers, yes, but those who opposed Him greatly outnumbered those who believed Him. And at the end, He suffered absolute agony of both heart and mind, then of the body as He fulfilled prophesy and laid down His life on the cross. Why? Why did He endure this? Why did He subject Himself to this treatment and then to this torture?”
Richard looked out across the congregation, almost unable to see them through the sheen of tears that glistened in his eyes. “Because of His great love for us,” he said after a long moment, his throat constricted with emotion. “He knew that through His stripes, we would be healed, and that was the deepest desire of His heart—to give us the chance for ultimate healing.”
A Christmas Promise (Kansas Crossroads Book 16) Page 6
