The Song Weaver
Page 23
For a long moment he stood there, his eyes locked with Jonathan’s. Then, as if he’d found what he was searching for, he nodded. “If you mean everything you’ve said, I’d be a fool to turn you down.”
“If there’s one thing you’re not, Matthew, it’s a fool,” Jonathan said mildly. “So that’s a yes?”
Jonathan extended his hand. After a slight hesitation, Matthew grasped it and said, “Yes.”
“Done!” said Jonathan.
He turned to Ray, whose reply was an enormous grin and another “Wow!”
“God is good,” Maggie’s mother choked out.
And from the back bedroom came the sound of a baby’s happy, high-piched squeal.
A Gift for Skingle Creek
Give my heart a voice to tell the world
About my Savior—
Give my soul a song
That will ring out across the years,
A song that sings Your boundless love
In sunshine or in shadow,
A psalm of praise for all my days,
Through happiness or tears.
B.J. Hoff
It was a tradition in Skingle Creek to celebrate Easter at sunrise on Dredd’s Mountain. No one but those new to town thought it peculiar to celebrate the Risen Savior at the top of a hill with such a name. The townsfolk had begun the custom as a way of defying the ash and dusty gloom hovering over the coal community by setting their annual celebration of the Lord above the mine itself.
By the time Pastor Ben wrapped up his Easter message, the sun, bright and warm and welcome, was on the rise. After a short prayer, the pastor announced a special tribute. As the sun struck its gold on top of the hill, Jonathan’s singing miners stepped out from the back of the crowd and began to make their way to the front.
“O for a thousand tongues to sing…”
They came singing, fifty men strong, with voices deep and rich and powerful enough to echo across the mountain and into the valley.
Maggie, holding the sleeping Gracie in her arms, caught her breath at the sight and sound of them. She had heard them only once before, at a rehearsal that had been a bit rough-edged. Watching the procession now, her heart began to sing with them.
She was keenly aware of her parents on one side of her, her brother on the other, and her sister, the lively Nell Frances, her husband, and their little girls who had come to spend the week. Maggie glanced around at the other familiar faces in the crowd. It was probably no exaggeration to say the entire town had come to worship this Easter Sunday.
It was a blessing to look around and see these folks she’d known most of her life, the people with whom she’d grown up and gone to school. People whose weddings and baptisms she’d attended. Many were more than friends and neighbors; they were as dear as family.
Jonathan was speaking, and his voice snapped her attention back to him and the men standing directly behind him.
“…while not a one of us claims to be a musician, and that includes me, we thought we might have something to present as an offering to God and as a gift to you, His people. This town has seen more than its share of hard times and tragedy. On more than one occasion it seemed we might never rise above the worst of the oppressive winters, the devastating mine injuries and sickness and death. At times even the basic necessities have been hard-won. Too often we’ve watched a neighbor give up in utter desperation.
“Yet through it all I’ve seen the spirit of Skingle Creek—your spirit—triumph over the despair and help others do likewise by giving yourselves. In some cases, you gave everything you had to help a neighbor.”
He paused for a moment, his gaze going to Maggie and the rest of the family. “I love this town. I have loved it almost from the beginning. For years I’ve tried to think of a way to show you…all of you…how grateful I am to God and to you for taking me in, giving me a home here, and making me one of you.
“These men—” He turned and lifted an arm to include the miners. “These men are here today for the same reason I am: to express their gratitude to God and to offer you a gift—an enduring gift you can carry in your hearts long after today. We hope that even on the darkest days and in the most difficult times, you’ll remember our gift and remember that there is always a reason to hope. The God who made us, the God who loves us and bids us love one another, is the reason for our hope.”
Jonathan turned to the men and signaled them to begin again.
They took his breath away. From the mournful strains of “O Sacred Head” to the robust “Crown Him with Many Crowns” and on to the majestic power of “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name” and the jubilant “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today,” these men, this body of brothers, filled the mountain…and Jonathan’s spirit. Finally, unable to remain silent any longer, he lifted up his voice and sang with them.
It was as if fifty voices became five hundred. The ground itself seemed to pulse until at last every person in attendance was singing.
At last they reached the final number, a personal favorite of Jonathan’s. Though not an Easter hymn, it seemed the perfect choice for this day and for the town. A calm fell over the entire mountain as the achingly sweet tenor voice of Pip Pippino soared over and encompassed the men who now sang with him, ever so softly…
When peace, like a river attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll,
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul…
A Note from the Author
Dear Readers:
The Song Weaver concludes the MOUNTAIN SONG LEGACY story. I hope you’ve enjoyed sharing the lives of Jonathan and Maggie and all the other Skingle Creek residents as much as I have.
Coming to the end of a series is always a bittersweet experience for me. I live with the people in my stories a long time, and they become so special to me that it’s never easy to say goodbye.
Thank you for your interest in the trilogy and for the wonderful letters and e-mails you’ve sent me throughout its development and publication. You’ve been a huge encouragement to me. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate your kindness…and your prayers.
And now new projects await!
God’s blessing and peace and hope be with you all.
About B.J. Hoff
B.J. Hoff’s bestselling historical novels first appeared in the Christian market more than 20 years ago and include such popular series as An Emerald Ballad, The American Anthem, and The Mountain Song Legacy. B.J.’s critically acclaimed novels reflect her efforts to make stories set in the past relevant to the present. She continues to cross the boundaries of religion, language, and culture to capture a worldwide reading audience.
A former church music director and music teacher, B.J. and her husband make their home in Ohio, where they share a love of music, books, and time spent with family.
Be sure to visit B.J.’s website:
www.bjhoff.com
HARVEST HOUSE
PUBLISHERS
THE MOUNTAIN SONG LEGACY
A Distant Music
In this first book of the Mountain Song Legacy series you’ll step into a small Kentucky coal mining town in the late 1800s. Hope is found in the hearts of two young girls—the vibrant, red-headed Maggie MacAuley and her fragile friend, Summer Rankin.
When Jonathan Stuart, the latest in a succession of educators, wants to continue teaching in the one-room schoolhouse, Maggie and Summer know he is special. So when Jonathan’s cherished flute is stolen, the girls try to find a way to restore music to his life.
Sorrow and joy follow in the days to come, and through it all Maggie, Jonathan, and a community rediscover the gifts of faith, friendship, and unwavering love.
The Wind Harp
B.J. Hoff’s unforgettable characters from A Distant Music reunite in a gripping, dramatic story. When Maggie returns to the small coal town of her childhood, she has no intention of staying. Her life is in Chicago now. There’s nothing to kee
p her in Skingle Creek…nothing but the discovery that a man who has lived most of his life for the children of Skingle Creek is no longer just the hero of Maggie’s childhood. He now seems destined to become the love of her life.
In Maggie’s quest for independence, she finds her greatest strength in sacrifice…and in her struggle to heal her family, she finds her heart renewed by love.
About the Publisher
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To learn more about books by B.J. Hoff and to read sample chapters, log on to our website:
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
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