Robbie turned and ran up the steps into the residence and to Hsi-chen’s room.
In the doorway he stopped short. Though Wallace had tried to prepare him for what he might see, and, if his words were not sufficient, the last months of his wife’s pregnancy in which she had declined tremendously should have done so. Yet even with these warnings, the sight of Hsi-chen’s face stunned him. Her normal pallor had turned ashen, her sensitive eyes were sunken and ringed with dark circles.
Suddenly for the first time Robbie found himself facing the graphic appearance of approaching death. He was too shocked to move, or even speak, only thankful that Hsi-chen had not heard him approach and that her eyes were closed and she could not see his reaction. At length Shan-fei’s soft voice brought him again to himself.
“Come in, Robbie,” was all she said. But it was enough. He walked the rest of the way into the room, a broad smile of love cast upon his wife, who opened her eyes and turned her head toward him.
“I hear there is a new little Taggart screaming her lungs out,” he said as buoyantly as he could.
Hsi-chen held out a hand. Robbie took it in his, successfully hiding the inward wince that passed through him at how cold and clammy hers felt. His attention was immediately diverted to the small bundle nestled in the crook of Hsi-chen’s arm. He could not help thinking that she was not much to look at. The baby’s skin was splotched and ruddy, wrinkled almost like a prune. Her only distinctive feature was a thick thatch of black hair atop her tiny head.
Robbie’s immediate reaction was that this unseemly creature could not possibly be worth the price he was paying for her. With the thought he remembered the interpretation he had heard of the Chinese word for daughter—she-pen huo, “goods on which one loses.” Yet almost as quickly these initial thoughts were swallowed up in the smile of joy he could see in Hsi-chen’s weary eyes, and he chided himself for his hardness.
He bent down and kissed his wife. “She is lovely,” he said.
Hsi-chen smiled in reply, as if she had read his thoughts but did not mind because she knew his heart too well, to be concerned. Robbie would love his daughter with the fullness with which he loved all of life; she knew that.
“I have thought of her Chinese name,” said Hsi-chen, “but you must approve.”
“I’m sure I will.”
“It is Chi-Yueh, which means to record a covenant. She is the symbol of our covenant, Robbie, and the covenant of love God has poured out on us. But she must also have a Western name, for that is part of who she is also.”
She paused, clearly taxed by her speech.
“And what shall that be?” Robbie asked when he saw she had caught her breath.
“I have thought of nothing yet. We must continue to pray.” She motioned him to the other side of the bed where the baby lay. “You must hold her, Robbie.”
“I’ll just watch,” he said lamely. In all his thoughts of fatherhood, holding his own infant child had never occurred to him. He had thought of talking with her, playing with her, but holding her on the day of her birth? He recoiled at the thought, suddenly aware of his missing hand. How could he possibly pick up such a delicate creature in his rough, muscular arms?
“Robbie . . .” Hsi-chen’s eyes saddened as she spoke, “you must learn to hold her. She will need her father’s arms around her more than ever when I am gone.”
“Hsi-chen . . . please!” implored Robbie, but the sob he had tried so hard to repress broke from his lips and tears began to stream from his eyes. “Oh, Hsi-chen, I don’t think I can face life without you!”
“Come, my love,” she said quietly. “She will comfort you.”
Though Robbie wondered how even God himself could comfort him at this moment, he obeyed Hsi-chen’s request, mostly because he could not bear to refuse her anything. Nearly stumbling for his tears, his body trembling, he moved closer to the child. Then he paused, not sure how to proceed. Shan-fei, who had been sitting in a chair beside her daughter’s bed, now stood and lifted the baby from her mother’s arms. The grandmother gently laid the child in the crook of Robbie’s right arm.
The moment Robbie touched his child, all her newborn ugliness fell instantly away. Hsi-chen must have suspected that such a thing would happen. As Robbie gazed into her now opened eyes, he beheld only beauty. Very clearly Hsi-chen could be seen in the tiny face, which made Robbie happiest of all. But he could at the same time distinguish hints of himself, and in that moment, his daughter became a real person to him, a fragile tiny human being whose price was beyond reckoning.
“Dear Father,” he said through his tears, “you do all things well!”
Was it right for a baby to mean so much, to represent so deeply the love of its parents? Even as he asked himself the question, Robbie knew it was impossible for this child to do otherwise. For in her small form she represented both deep loss and great gain—joy and sadness. Robbie knew, as he gazed down upon her peaceful form, that this would always make her special. She would not only be the image of her mother to remind Robbie of the woman he had loved. She would at the same time grow to become her own unique person, a precious child of God, a little covenant not only in the personal sense for Robbie and Hsi-chen, but on the larger scale between the Lord and His people. She would bridge the gap between cultures, and between faith and unbelief.
“Ruth,” said Robbie suddenly, and the word seemed not of his own volition.
“It is good,” affirmed Hsi-chen, then added, reciting the scriptures: “Entreat me not to leave thee, or return from following after thee: for wither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.”
56
The Call on a Man’s Heart
The days and weeks following the birth passed slowly. Robbie was thankful for that blessing. They were days of joy, despite the cloud which hung about the compound as a result of Hsi-chen’s failing health. Watching Ruth take on new characteristics each day brought her parents a great shared joy, and helped them not to think about what soon must happen.
As Wallace had been subtly training Robbie in the work of the mission, Shan-fei and Hsi-chen, with some worthy pointers from Miss Trumbull, began to instruct him in a kind of parenthood most fathers never have to learn. Of course Robbie would not be altogether alone; Shan-fei would be there to help, and would joyfully care for Ruth when her father was about the work of the mission. But Robbie had determined that the brunt of responsibility for the child would rest with him. How this would work out in reality, Robbie did not know, for mission life could be demanding at times. But God knew, and for the present that was sufficient.
These days he remained close to the mission. With increasing one-handed dexterity, he finished the roofs on several of the smaller outbuildings that he had not had time for, amid scoldings from the older women that his hammering would wake the baby. But Hsi-chen was not troubled, and neither apparently was Ruth, who slept soundly and awoke contented.
There had been no further trouble from Wang. It had been rumored that his defeat and loss of face caused him to lose influence with many of his followers. Whether he was in fact merely laying low until his forces could be regrouped, or whether he had given up his designs against the mission altogether, who could tell. In the meantime, Robbie was not concerned, although thoughts of Pike did occasionally flit through his mind.
Winter gradually closed in upon the community. This was a slow time for the villagers. The rice had been harvested and the winter crop of wheat was in. But the more industrious always found use for their idle time. As Robbie walked one day back to the mission along the river from Kuo-hwa’s house, he saw several of the village fishers out in their boats. For them, the winter was a busy season when they would sail to a nearby lake, and in teams of three or four boats form a circle and fish with nets and hooks strung from the boats. Perhaps I
’ll join them next season, thought Robbie. It would be a good way to get to know these men and tell them about the Lord while working side-by-side. Not to mention an opportunity to set foot aboard a boat again!
As he reached the bridge leading to the mission, Wallace, who was coming toward him, waved and called out.
“I’m off on a call, Robert,” he said. “Why don’t you join me?”
Robbie’s eyes strayed to the mission, specifically to the residence. Perceiving his thoughts, Wallace added, “It’s not far, only in the next village. We should be back before long. I only just now checked on Hsi-chen. She is well and about to have a bit of a nap.”
“In that case, I’ll tag along!” said Robbie cheerfully. “What is it you have to do?”
“I’m going to try to see an old woman who is desperately ill.”
“Try?”
“Women are not usually allowed to see doctors. Up until recently it was even unusual for a doctor to be allowed to feel a woman’s pulse—and that only through a curtain! The Chinese are incredibly backward when it comes to their view of women. We of the West have a great deal to learn, but Chinese women can be treated so abysmally at times.”
“What makes you think you will be allowed to see this woman?”
“Through the years I’ve cultivated a relationship with her family. One of her sons comes to our services. Everything takes time here Robert. But if you invest the time in these people, the rewards can be tremendous.”
Thirty minutes’ hard walk brought them to Lungsi, a village some two or three miles from the mission. It was similar to Wukiang in most ways, except that it was set back from the water and elevated on a small hill. They approached the house prayerfully, made their presence known, then waited. In another minute or two Wallace was shown inside; Robbie was told to wait outside. Five minutes later Wallace reappeared. They did not speak again until they were well away from the house.
“The poor woman is at death’s door,” said Wallace at length. “A bad heart. But at least they allowed me to see her.”
“Is there anything you can do?” asked Robbie.
“Not really—at least for her heart. I did the one truly valuable thing I can do for her: I prayed for her soul.”
“They allowed that?”
“I sensed a desperation in the atmosphere of the home. All her relatives were gathered about, expecting her to die, no doubt. I believe they were open to help from any quarter, even the foreign God. And they know the son knows me well enough. So I just bowed my head and began to pray, and no one tried to stop me. Perhaps they think that I am safe enough, so my God must be also.”
“It’s lucky you have your medical training.”
“Luck has nothing whatever to do with it, my boy. I sought my medical training specifically so I would have a service to offer these people hand-in-hand with the gospel. It has gotten me into many places where others without that calling have failed.”
All of a sudden a sharp cry tore through the quiet streets of the village. Instinctively Wallace and Robbie dashed off in the direction of the sound, which seemed to be coming from a house near the end of the street. Robbie was the first to arrive, and rapped breathlessly on the door. Inside he could still hear a child’s voice screaming in agony. In a moment the door swung open.
“What is wrong?” asked Robbie; “can we help?” His Chinese, however, was unintelligible, for the middle-aged woman who stood there merely scowled blankly back at him in reply.
Wallace ran up to Robbie’s side, adding, “I am a doctor. If someone is ill—”; but he stopped short as he glimpsed a clearer view of the inside of the house.
Robbie peered beyond him and saw a child, a girl of about five, sitting on top of a table, her legs extended out in front of her, with long strands of loose bandage hanging about them. Tears streamed down the pale pathetic face, her screams now reduced to choking sobs.
“As you can see,” replied the woman, “we need no help.” It was then that Robbie noticed that the woman’s own eyes were reddened and her cheeks damp also.
“Yes, I see,” replied Wallace. Then, turning to Robbie, he said, “Let’s be on our way; we are not needed here.”
“But—” Robbie began to protest, but Wallace shook his head and nudged his son-in-law down the step.
When the door was closed and they were several strides away, Robbie turned to Wallace.
“Her feet were being bound, Isaiah!” he said, as if a description were necessary for the experienced missionary who had seen the cruel procedure dozens of times. “We could have stopped it.”
“Do you not yet perceive what our purpose is here, Robert?” asked the doctor.
“I only know that child was being tortured,” Robbie replied heatedly. “If the mother herself was crying over the hateful task, that is just all the worse. She was doing it even though her own instincts tell her it is wrong. I don’t understand how you can let it continue.”
“What would you have me do? Forcibly tear the child from her mother? And to what avail? Tomorrow she would have been submitted again to the process, and I would no doubt have a riot against the mission on my hands for trying to interfere with the local customs.”
The two walked on as Wallace continued. “The practice has been with the Chinese for nearly a thousand years. The Manchus tried to forbid it when they came into power, but the people strongly protested. Small feet on a Chinese woman is looked upon as a sign of beauty and culture. The mothers who inflict this pain on their daughters firmly believe they are doing the best for them.”
“So we should turn our backs on it?” queried Robbie, his old nature rising at the thought of such injustice going forever unpunished.
“We are not here to change the Chinese culture. We’ve discussed before what the consequences of that can be.”
Wallace paused, then stopped walking and turned one of his intense looks of deep meaning and concern on Robbie. “If I could pass anything on to you, son, it would be this one vision, this single purpose: we are here to change hearts, Robert! Hearts! Not customs, not practices, not superficial behavior. That is what I would want for you to see. Look beyond the externals, both the detestable and the beautiful, and let the eyes of your spirit gaze into the hearts of those around you. That was the perspective Jesus always had. When a man or woman truly yields the heart to the Lord, the rest will follow in time. New attitudes and behavior, those are for the Lord to transform, not for us to worry about. If we can help people to set Christ on the throne of their hearts, that is what will ultimately cause the undesirable in their nature to fall away—not the might of righteous indignation, but rather the silent witness of the Holy Spirit deep in their being.”
Wallace paused a moment, then added, “To be sure there may occasionally be a time and place for godly indignation.” And as he said the words a smile tugged at his lips, for he must have known that Robbie was at that moment puzzling over the times when he had seen that very quality manifested in the doctor himself. “But more often than not, even old missionaries can be overly impetuous in their zeal.”
“I’m afraid I’ll never have the wisdom to know when to be impetuous and when to use restraint,” said Robbie. “Though I’m pretty certain which side will most often win out. I’ve always been known for jumping in the thick of the fray and asking questions later. I’m a born sailor, remember?”
Wallace laughed.
“Why, if you hadn’t been there just now, I probably would have stormed in and done something stupid,” said Robbie, sighing heavily.
Wallace laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I pray for you, lad. Your life is bound up in my own now, and nothing is happening between us that is not of God’s design. I know God will give you the wisdom you need when you need it.”
“I hope so, Isaiah,” said Robbie with a depth of earnestness in his voice. “I believe God does want me to remain here in China. I don’t know why He should want me. I’m hardly worthy of a calling as noble as yours. I’ve
been nothing but a rowdy sailor all my life who didn’t have the foggiest notion of what it really meant to be a man. I still don’t feel I fit in either at the mission or with the ways of the Chinese. Yet my heart is here. God has changed my heart. So perhaps the external baggage and old ways of Robbie Taggart, sailor, will fall away from me also, so that the Lord can make me worthy to be called Robbie Taggart, missionary of God.”
“God bless you, son—!” Wallace stopped, forcing himself to swallow hard before trying to continue, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. “God be praised! How I have prayed that the Lord would work this in your heart. You have so much to offer this work, and I believe God will turn even the things you or I may deem undesirable into assets for Him. Your energy, your exuberance, even your impetuous nature—God can use them all mightily.”
Robbie felt as if he ought to reply, but could find no words that seemed appropriate.
“We once named you Moses,” Wallace continued. “But then I had no idea how truly fitting the name was. He protested even to the face of God himself, calling himself unworthy. Yet God used him to deliver an entire nation. He will use you, Robert. I believe it! It is my humble desire to be granted the honor of pouring what little wisdom He may have given me into you as you grow, toward that end of God’s call upon your life.”
Wallace stopped, his eyes penetrating deeply into Robbie’s own. Robbie felt the older man’s gaze boring straight into his heart, probing depths that even he himself did not know existed. Then slowly, almost methodically, Wallace extended his arm. The two men clasped hands, each gripping and shaking the other’s firmly in a grasp full of love and mutual vision. Dropping hands, as if by common accord, in the middle of that village street, both men opened wide their arms and embraced—father and son, teacher and pupil, mentor and disciple: spiritual brothers.
Somehow in that moment, Robbie felt as though a responsibility, a burden of leadership, was being transferred to him. Wallace would continue to carry the load for a time. But Robbie sensed that one day the burden would be his alone. He found himself awed, excited, and frightened all at once.
Robbie Taggart Page 45
