by Janette Oke
Table of Contents
Books by Janette Oke
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One - Training
Chapter Two - School Days
Chapter Three - Classmates
Chapter Four - A Call
Chapter Five - Sharing the News
Chapter Six - Preparations
Chapter Seven - Starting Out
Chapter Eight - Dubious Aid
Chapter Nine - Beginnings
Chapter Ten - Cleaning House
Chapter Eleven - The Church
Chapter Twelve - A Busy Week
Chapter Thirteen - Sunday
Chapter Fourteen - Visiting
Chapter Fifteen - Another Week
Chapter Sixteen - Autumn
Chapter Seventeen - Celebrations
Chapter Eighteen - Troubles and Woes
Chapter Nineteen - Winter
Chapter Twenty - Mixed Blessings
Chapter Twenty-one - Conference
Chapter Twenty-two - Back to Work
Chapter Twenty-three - Autumn Blues
Chapter Twenty-four - Winter Wars
Chapter Twenty-five - The Answer
Chapter Twenty-six - The Letter
Chapter Twenty-seven - Partners in Service
Looking for More Good Books to Read?
Books by Janette Oke
Another Homecoming1
Tomorrow’s Dream1
CANADIAN WEST
When Calls the Heart
When Comes the Spring
When Breaks the Dawn
When Hope Springs New
Beyond the Gathering Storm
When Tomorrow Comes
LOVE COMES SOFTLY
Love Comes Softly
Love’s Enduring Promise
Love’s Long Journey
Love’s Abiding Joy
Love’s Unending Legacy
Love’s Unfolding Dream
Love Takes Wing
Love Finds a Home
A PRAIRIE LEGACY
The Tender Years
A Searching Heart
A Quiet Strength
Like Gold Refined
SEASONS OF THE HEART
Once Upon a Summer
The Winds of Autumn
Winter Is Not Forever
Spring’s Gentle Promise
SONG OF ACADIA1
The Meeting Place
The Sacred Shore
The Birthright
The Distant Beacon
The Beloved Land
WOMEN OF THE WEST
The Calling of Emily Evans
Julia’s Last Hope
Roses for Mama
A Woman Named Damaris
They Called Her Mrs. Doc
The Measure of a Heart
A Bride for Donnigan
Heart of the Wilderness
Too Long a Stranger
The Bluebird and the Sparrow
A Gown of Spanish Lace
Drums of Change
Janette Oke: A Heart for the Prairie
Biography of Janette Oke by Laurel Oke Logan
The Calling of Emily Evans
Copyright © 1990
Janette Oke
Cover design by Lookout Design, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0244-5
ISBN-10: 0-7642-0244-8
The Library of Congress has cataloged the original edition as follows:
Oke, Janette, 1935-
The calling of Emily Evans / Janette Oke.
p. cm.
ISBN 1-55661-118-8 (pbk.)
I. Title
PR9199.3.038 C35 1990
813’.54—dc20 89-78543
CIP
To those women
whose dedication and courage
opened many of the
community churches
for the Missionary Church
(formerly the Mennonite Brethren in Christ)
in the Canada West District.
JANETTE OKE was born in Champion, Alberta, to a Canadian prairie farmer and his wife, and she grew up in a large family full of laughter and love. She is a graduate of Mountain View Bible College in Alberta, where she met her husband, Edward, and they were married in May of 1957. After pastoring churches in Indiana and Canada, the Okes spent some years in Calgary, where Edward served in several positions on college faculties while Janette continued her writing. She has written over four dozen novels for adults and children, and her book sales total nearly thirty million copies.
The Okes have three sons and one daughter, all married, and are enjoying their dozen grandchildren. Edward and Janette are active in their local church and make their home near Didsbury, Alberta.
Prologue
Although Emily Evans is totally fictional, the story she tells may well have happened. The Missionary Church was not the only denomination that sent young women out to pioneer new works in the Canadian West. It was not an easy task. There were times when they did not even have horses to help with their traveling. Many lonely and difficult hours were spent walking the dirt roads and paths in order to make calls on all the homes in an area.
But even when a mission worker was blessed with a team and buggy, her lot was not always that much easier, for often the roads were little more than winding trails through the countryside. And sometimes heavy rains or drifting snow made them nearly impassable.
Her accommodations were not that fancy either. Wooden crates stacked one on top of the other could comprise a good share of a room’s furniture. Sometimes the girls boarded with an area family, but most often they were on their own.
The Sunday offerings were the workers’ source of income. Many area farmers were good to share their farm produce, but in those early days on the prairies there was little extra to pass on to another household. The young women suffered the pioneering hardships right along with the families in the community.
In researching material for Emily’s story, I scanned Conference Journals dating back to 1917, which for the Missionary Church was the twelfth annual conference. That would date the first conference as 1905, the year Alberta became a Canadian province. The efforts of the “Sister Workers” were reported along with those of the male ministers’. These reports included evangelistic meetings, tabernacle work, conducting the church services in local mission churches, working in a home established for unwed mothers, and “taking meetings over the needy prairies”—all done by “Approved Ministering Sisters,” as they later were called.
In reports by women in the Journal of 1919, I saw references to the flu epidemic and concern for the returning soldiers of World War I.
The 1920 Journal tells of the committee appointed to decide the “uniform” of the Sister Workers: “... and that they dress in plain attire becoming to their work and the dignity of their calling, the wearing of low-necked waists [known to us as blouses or shirts] not being allowed, and the skirt must be ample in length and width.” A simple dark bonnet was also a part of their dress.
Incidentally, the committee consisted of three women.
I found twenty-eight names of Sister Workers listed in the early Conference Journals. Perhaps that does not seem like many, but, remember, in the beginning years of their ministry the Missionary Church had only three or four established parishes on these “needy prairies.”
I recognized many of the names as those I had known as a child—missionaries, lady evangelists, college teachers, and wives of pastors.
I personally owe much to those dedicated young women, for one of them, Miss Pearl Reist, began the work in the community where I grew up. My home church, Lemont Memorial, is named in her honor. She married an area farmer, Nels Lemont, and continued as a supporter and ardent worker in the little church long after a minister was found for the congregation.
Another woman, Mrs. Beatrice Hedegaard, was the children’s camp evangelist when I at age ten made my personal decision to commit my life to the Lord Jesus Christ.
Mrs. Alma Hallman, though in her mid-nineties, is still able to care for her own apartment, attend our local church, and chat with good humor and a great deal of insight about the happenings of the church over the many years of her involvement. She showed me her “papers” and her “button” and shared tales about the hardships and dedication of the women who served the Lord and the church in the early years of this century.
Only God knows the full extent of the cost to those who gave totally of themselves. And He alone knows the number of lives their ministry affected through the chain reaction resulting from that service. We do know that from many of these small mission works have come pastors, missionaries, and lay workers.
Most of the Approved Ministering Sisters have now passed on to their heavenly reward, but the product of their selfless ministry remains.
Chapter One
Training
Emily Evans lifted a slender hand and pushed back a wisp of wayward brown hair. She arched her back slightly to try to remove a kink in her tired muscles, then reached up to gently rub the back of her neck. Her whole body was protesting the position she had held for what seemed to be hours. She slid the opened book back and pushed away from the small wooden table, which was her desk. She was tired. Tired of studying. Tired of bending over the printed pages. Tired of trying to fit all the historical facts into her weary brain.
She lifted herself from the straight-backed wooden chair and walked to the window. Her left hand reached out to the lace curtain and lifted it back, allowing her to see the silent scene before her. Had it not been for the moon smiling down from overhead, she would have seen nothing but blackness. As it was, all she could make out was the outline of another building, looming dark and plain in the silvery light.
Emily knew the scene by heart. She had looked out upon it many times since her arrival at Gethsemene Bible School nestled in the western Canadian town of Regis. Not a large school, it was not known for its greatness. Only those interested in its teachings seemed to be aware that it even existed. Except for the town folk, of course. To them it was another way of adding to their coffers in the sale of produce toiletries and winter boots.
There were only four buildings on the small campus. The main structure housed the two classrooms, the library, and the offices. The ladies’ residence was to the right and the men’s to the left. Behind the main building and centrally located between the dormitories was the small chapel. Emily wished she could see it from her window. It was the chapel that was dearest to her heart.
She turned silently from the dark window so she would not disturb the sleeping form in the bed across the small room.
“I’ve studied quite enough,” she murmured quietly. “What I don’t know will just have to be left unknown. I can’t think one moment longer.”
She looked at the sleeping form. How can she breeze through the exams so easily? was Emily’s exasperated thought. She never needs to study.
Emily’s dour assessment was not quite accurate. Ruth Raemore did study. But of course it was unnecessary for her to spend the time over her textbooks that Emily did. Though Emily was not brilliant, neither was she a poor student. Her high grades throughout her school days had resulted from disciplined hours of study. In Bible school, anxious to make the most of her years in training, she quickly found that diligent studying was the only way to make good grades.
The silence was broken by the unmistakable squeak of the second step of the stairs. Emily’s head lifted, her breath catching in a little gasp. She did not hesitate to wonder who was making the silent ascent up those stairs and, then, down the hall. Each night the rooms were checked after “light’s out,” and Emily was tardy again.
As quietly as she could, she hurried across the distance between the window and the desk and quickly turned out her light. She could hear the quiet opening and closing of doors as the woman made her way down the line of bedrooms. With one swift movement Emily was out of her shoes and under the covers beside the sleeping Ruth.
Ruth stirred, turned over on her other side, and resumed deep breathing. Emily held her breath and made sure the covers were tucked snugly under her chin. Then turning her back to the door, praying inwardly that all of her long skirt had followed her under the quilt, she closed her eyes and waited.
Her door soon opened softly and with the light that filtered in from the hall, Emily could imagine herself being counted. Two forms in the bed. Two young ladies properly retired for the night. The door closed just as softly and Emily could sense, more than hear, the silent figure move on down the hall to the last room on the left.
Emily breathed again. She was saved from a scolding or more kitchen duty—at least for this time.
She dared not stir until she heard the footsteps descend the stairs. At last all was silent, and Emily folded back the covers and rose from the bed.
Now in the dark, Emily felt her way across the floor and removed the combs from her hair. She shook out the long strands, her fingers running idly through its silkiness. Tonight she didn’t even stop to mourn the fact that her hair was plain—plain brown. Quite dark brown. How often she had looked at Ruth’s raven black tresses, or Olive Tyndale’s glowing blond crown, and longed for her hair to be such a color. But tonight she was too tired to care.
She stumbled over her kicked-off shoes as she felt her way to the clothes cupboard where her nightgown hung. She could not even see to properly hang up the clothes she had lifted over her head. She reached out and released them, hoping they were placed on the chair where she had been sitting. She wasn’t sure if she heard them slide to the floor or not, but she did not feel for them in the darkness. She slipped into the printed flannel gown and carefully made her way back across the floor. The cold boards gave way to the braided rug, and she knew she had headed in the right direction.
Carefully she eased herself again into bed beside Ruth and snuggled into the warm blankets. She hadn’t realized how chilly the room had become until she felt the warmth of the bed. Her sore muscles seemed to soak up the heat, and her head, now nestled on the pillow, began to ache in protest.
She chided herself. I must start getting to bed earlier or I’ll be sick again—just like Father warned.
But even before Emily closed her tired eyes, she argued back.
But how can I? If I don’t study, I’ll never make it. They might not even let me stay. But if I don’t go to bed on time ...
Emily let that thought go unfinished. She knew there were good reasons for getting sleep. Her health depended upon it. She had never been physically strong. She was also breaking school rules, and at this small Bible school, rules were made to be kept. Emily chafed under the guilt that hung over her. What would they do with her if they ever found out that she was pushing “lights out” all too often? Tha
t she had bounded into bed on more than one occasion as she heard the preceptress’s footfall on the stairway?
Emily shivered even in the warmth of the blankets. She did not welcome the thought of being sent home in humiliation. She wanted to be here. She had so much to learn. In a way that she couldn’t explain, she felt compelled to study God’s Word.
So why did she continue in her disobedience? Emily could only shake her head. “It’s their rules,” she mumbled, half asleep. “Nobody could live with such silly rules.”
Ruth stirred again and Emily realized she had been pressing a bit closer than she intended in order to draw from the warmth. She shifted her body away and allowed herself to drift off to sleep. The rising bell would sound all too early, and everyone was expected to be at the breakfast table, properly combed, washed and dressed for another day in the classroom.
When the bell rang the next morning, Emily stirred restlessly and would have rolled over and gone back to sleep had not Ruth called, “Emily. Emily! It’s time to get up. You’ll be late for breakfast again.”
Emily moaned and pulled the blankets a little higher.
“Emily! You told me not to let you sleep—remember?” Ruth scolded softly from in front of the room’s only mirror. “Come on. You’ve got to get up.”
When Emily still failed to respond, Ruth leaned over the bed and tugged the blankets from Emily’s possessive hands.
“Emily!” Ruth said sharply.
Emily’s eyes immediately flew wide open. Panic filled them as she looked up into the dark-brown eyes of her roommate.
“What is it?” she asked, raising from her bed.
The sternness left Ruth’s face and a smile turned up the corners of her lips.
