Sea to Shining Sea

by Michael Phillips

  More and more I thought that God intends for the world to really speak to us—loudly, constantly, every day. I believed that God means for our surroundings to be a very close-up way of us getting information about him. The world God made with his own hands should speak to us just as directly and actively as the words of Jesus himself.

  As I rode through the woods and meadows, I found all these thoughts running through my mind as they had many times before. I found myself thinking about the barn back at home, and how much it could tell a stranger about Pa, if that stranger took it upon himself to look past the surface appearances of things—how orderly Pa kept his tools, how he lined up the spare saddles, the stables, the feeding troughs, the wagon and buggy, the loft for hay and straw. To a casual observer, none of these things would be especially noticeable. But since I had heard Pa talk about why he had done such and such and question aloud how he should build this part or where he ought to put that, I saw evidences of Pa’s personality everywhere as I looked around the barn.

  I saw Almeda’s personality at home and in her office at the Mine and Freight in town, too—how she kept her desk, the pictures on the walls, the books in the bookcase, how she organized the whole business. She was there, just as Pa was in the barn—even if neither of them happened to be there in person. The barn, the office, the house—they all reflected both characters and personalities because they had put so much of themselves into them, maybe even without knowing it.

  In the same way, the whole world is like God’s office, his barn, the room where he lives. His desk and walls and rooms are full of things that are shouting about the person he is. It’s up to us to try to discover what those characteristics of his personality are. Every tiniest detail of the universe is full of energetic life.

  The bear and the ant both reflect the God who made them—the bear, his power and magnificence; the ant, his energy and productivity and unceasing labor.

  The sun and the moon both are pictures of God—the heat and brightness and life-sustaining force of the sun, and the reflected light that God’s being is able to give, even in the darkness when the fullness of his presence is turned away for a time.

  The world could no more keep quiet about the nature of God than could Pa’s barn or Almeda’s office about them. The world is shouting at us, so loudly that in most people’s ears it sounds like silence. The thunder of his voice is so huge and so deep that it rumbles past them in awesome silence. They hear nothing.

  I reined Raspberry in, slowed to a stop, then dismounted. I hadn’t gone far, probably not more than an hour from home, not nearly as far up into the mountains as I had that day two years before.

  Most of the ground was brown under the scorching summer’s sun. Where snow had lain six months earlier, now the dirt was hard-packed, with dried mountain grasses blowing gently in the rising breeze. Among the trees all was still and quiet. The only sounds were those of the birds overhead and the buzzing of bees and flies and other tiny flying creatures.

  I left Raspberry tethered to a pine branch and walked through a thicket of trees into an open meadow. I felt full, happy, overflowing with life. Thinking about God all the way up as I had ridden had filled me with a sense of how good he had been to me.

  Suddenly I found myself running . . . running across the grass as fast as I could, running toward nowhere, but urged on by a feeling inside I could not keep back. I wanted to scale the heights of the hills under my feet, I wanted to run and climb to the peaks of the world, I wanted to shout and sing and laugh and cry all at once!

  On I ran, my heart pounding, my legs beginning to tire. But the weariness just made me want to run all the more! I wanted to exhaust myself, to run until I dropped!

  At last I could not go another step.

  I lifted my hands into the air and threw my head back, gazing upward into the empty expanse of blue. Two or three white, billowing clouds hung there in the midst of it, lazily working their way across the sky. I felt great throbbing prayers inside me, yet I had no words to say. There was only a sense that God was nearby, and even that he was looking down on me right then. A closeness came over me that I had never felt before, as if his great arms of love were wrapping themselves around me, even as I stood there all alone in the middle of that meadow, hands held upward toward the sky.

  Slowly I dropped my hands back to my sides and turned around and began walking down the way I had run. I was crying, although I did not know when the tears had begun to flow.

  I don’t think I’d ever been happier in my life than in that moment. I knew God my Father was with me, that he loved me, that his tender arms were about me, and that I was his.

  “God,” I said softly, “I want nothing more than to be your daughter . . . to be completely yours. Oh, God—take away from me any other ambitions or motives or desires than just to let you be my Father every moment. Let me be content that you care for me, as content as I am right now.”

  All at once the prayers that I hadn’t been able to pray a few moments earlier began to bubble up out of me in an endless spring. Thoughts and prayers and feelings tumbled together from out of my heart and mind. Such a desire swept through me to be nothing more, to do nothing more, than what God himself wanted for me. Any anxieties I may have had over the future or what to do vanished. I knew God would direct my pathway, as one of my favorite proverbs promised.

  I felt so thankful, so appreciative to God for all he had done for me—for the love of life, for the sense of his presence with me, for the peacefulness he had given me. What poured out of me was unspoken thankfulness, and a calm knowing that he would direct my steps, that he would keep my life in his hands, and that he would show me what I was to do and when.

  I rode Raspberry back toward town and arrived at the house sometime shortly after noon. My spirit was still calm, and I could not have been more unprepared for the surprise that awaited me the moment I walked in the door of the house.

  There, talking to Pa, sat Cal Burton!

  Chapter 17

  The Invitation

  Inside, my knees went weak, and a lump shot up from somewhere down in my stomach up to my throat. Flushed from the exercise of the ride, I knew my face went immediately pale. A faintness swept over me, even as Pa jumped up the moment he saw me come in.

  “Look who’s here from San Francisco, Corrie!” he said.

  I hardly needed Pa to point it out to me! Even in my state of perturbation, I knew well enough who it was!

  I took his hand, feeling a slight tremble go through me at the touch, and said, “Mr. Burton . . . but I don’t understand . . . what are you doing here?” Never had my voice sounded so high and squeaky! And I had never sounded so stupid in all my life.

  He laughed. “I know it must come as a surprise, and I apologize for coming all this way to see you without warning.”

  “Don’t say another word about it,” Pa said boisterously. “You’re welcome anytime, with or without warning. Out this far from the city we don’t stand too much on ceremony.”

  As Pa was responding to Mr. Burton’s apology, I immediately decided that he had come to see Pa. It must have something to do with them wanting him to run for the legislature in Sacramento.

  “So are you going to do it, Pa?” I said, turning to him.

  “Do what?”

  “Run for the legislature.”

  “What are you talking about, Corrie Belle? What’s me running for office got to do with anything?”

  “Isn’t that what you two were talking about?”

  “I don’t know where you got a notion like that,” laughed Pa. “We were just sitting here passing the time till you got back.”

  The blank look of confusion on my face must have been more humorous than I intended it to be because both men laughed.

  “I’m sorry,” said Mr. Burton. “I was speaking to you a moment ago, not your father. It’s you I came all this way to see.”

  My heart fluttered all over again! “Me?” I squeaked. “What would you want to
see me for?”

  Pa laughed again. He was really enjoying my discomfort! “Corrie, you just go get yourself a drink of water, then come and sit down with us. Cal here’s got to talk to you.”

  I did as Pa said, and a minute or two later the three of us were seated.

  I glanced from one to the other of them. Mr. Burton spoke first.

  “What I came for, Corrie,” he said, “was to ask you again, on behalf of Mr. Dalton in San Francisco, if you would consider helping us with the Lincoln campaign.”

  I stared back blankly at him.

  “I have been thinking about it,” I said finally. “But I just hadn’t decided yet what I ought to do.”

  “Mr. Dalton thought you might not have taken his words seriously before, and felt a personal visit from me might persuade you. Let me assure you, he was quite serious. He . . . we all, that is, would very much like you to be part of the Republican campaign team.”

  The color began coming back into my cheeks. I didn’t know what to think!

  “What . . . what would I do?”

  “We were sure you’d ask that. I’ve already spoken to your editor, Mr. Kemble, about your writing a couple articles in favor of Mr. Lincoln from a woman’s point of view. Then we would like to include you among the speakers at a public assembly to be held in Sacramento four days from now. A woman has never addressed such a gathering, in this campaign at least, and Mr. Dalton feels you could have a great influence. My instructions were to convince you to say yes, and to bring you back to Sacramento with me.”

  I sat staring, trying to take in his words.

  “Don’t just sit there, Corrie,” Pa said finally. “The man’s talking to you.”

  “I . . . I don’t know what to say,” I stammered.

  “Say the only thing you can say, Corrie,” said Mr. Burton. “I was instructed not to take no for an answer. The Republican party will pay your coach fare and put you up in a nice hotel. The trip won’t cost you a cent.”

  “Well, I have been praying about what to do.”

  “And do you have reservations?”

  “No, not exactly.”

  “Then it’s all settled.”

  “I’ll have to talk to my mother and father,” I said.

  “Of course. I understand.” He rose and shook Pa’s hand. “I’m going to ride back into town. I’m supposed to see the banker Royce for Carl, and I’ll be at the boardinghouse if you should need me. Otherwise, perhaps I’ll drop back by later this afternoon.”

  “And join us for supper,” suggested Pa.

  “But, your wife. . . ?” hesitated Mr. Burton.

  “My wife will be delighted when I tell her,” insisted Pa. “Now it’s my turn not to take no for an answer!”

  They both laughed, and it was agreed.

  Chapter 18

  Embarrassment Enough to Last a Lifetime

  I had been praying about it, like I’d said. But now that the moment of decision had come and I was face-to-face with it, I felt nervous and uncertain all over again. Of course, how much of that had to do with the election and how much had to do with Cal Burton himself, it was impossible for a twenty-three-year-old girl like me to know.

  I couldn’t help being a little taken with him. He was just about the finest-looking man a girl like me’d ever set eyes on. And so nice—how could I keep from liking him?

  As much as I tried to concentrate on things like the election and what I ought to do as a writer, my mind kept filling up with Cal Burton. I wanted to say yes just because of him. All kinds of doubts would rise up, reminding me that I wasn’t pretty, that a man like him would never look twice at me. I’d take to looking in a mirror and fiddling with my hair without even realizing I was doing it. When I suddenly woke up to the fact that I was daydreaming the day away, I could hardly stand what I saw in the glass and would turn away in disgust.

  One time Pa chanced by the open door of my room and saw me standing there like an idiot, turned sideways, looking at myself. I caught his reflection in the mirror as he walked by, mortified to have him see me like that. I got so flushed my skin burned, and I turned away from the mirror and ran outside. Pa never said a word, but he knew well enough what I was thinking about.

  All the rest of that day I wandered about in a daze, trying to concentrate, trying to pray, trying to be rational about it. But it was useless. I’d never figured myself to be overly emotional as women were sometimes said to be. I thought my head was sitting pretty level on my shoulders.

  But after this day I didn’t know! As close as I’d felt to God that very morning, suddenly he might as well have been a thousand miles away. I couldn’t stand it, but I couldn’t help it either.

  I had to talk to Almeda! But when she got back from town about an hour after Mr. Burton had left, I couldn’t get up the gumption to tell her. I had always talked to her about everything, but this was different. I couldn’t help being embarrassed for how I was feeling.

  Cal Burton came back some time between four and five in the afternoon. I was wandering around aimlessly near the corral when I heard his rented buggy approaching. I had been working in the garden and rubbing Raspberry down, and I was positively filthy from head to foot. I quickly ran into the barn, hoping he wouldn’t see me. He reined in the horses in front of the house and went inside. I watched the house for a few minutes from one of the barn windows, being careful to keep out of sight.

  A little later, the door opened and Pa and Mr. Burton came out. They were talking away like old friends. Pa really seemed to like Mr. Burton. It was the happiest I’d seen him since Zack left.

  Suddenly I realized they were heading straight for the barn! I jumped back from the window and hurriedly ran back into the back part of the building where it was darkest, frantically trying not to make any noises that would give me away. I was just crouching down behind two bales of hay in the far corner of the barn when I heard Pa and Mr. Burton enter by the opposite door. I held my breath and hoped the hay didn’t make me sneeze!

  “Corrie!” I heard Pa’s voice call out. “Corrie . . . you in here?”

  A brief silence followed.

  “Blamed if she wasn’t around just a few minutes ago,” I heard Pa say. I thought I heard his footstep coming nearer. He had to know where I was! It would be awful if they found me like I was! What would I say? But I hadn’t answered Pa’s call, so now there was nothing I could do but make sure they didn’t see me!

  Silently I hunched down even more, lowering my face into my dress so if any part of me did show, at least my hair would blend in with the hay and straw around me. Why had I hidden? Now I was really in a pickle!

  I heard Pa’s footsteps going one way and the other, looking about. “Corrie!” he called out again. I felt like such a deceiver for not answering, but I couldn’t make myself say anything now!

  Pretty soon they turned and headed back out. “Can’t imagine where she went,” Pa said. “But come on, Cal, I’ll show you the mine, and take you up to see my brother-in-law. Corrie’ll be along soon enough. The two of you can talk about your business later.”

  These last words were faint, because by now they were outside and walking up the stream toward the mine. Slowly I crept out of my hiding place and tiptoed toward the window. I peeked carefully around the edge of it. There they were, thirty yards away, their backs to me, in animated conversation, Pa seemingly telling him all about the mining operation, which Mr. Burton seemed interested in by his questions and gestures.

  I stepped back inside the barn and breathed a big sigh of relief. Then first it struck me what I must look like. I was sweating like a horse, my hair was all messed up and hanging all over everywhere, my dress was dirty and had pieces of straw and hay stuck to it all over. I was a mess! Whether I was pretty or not, I was certainly in no condition to meet a man like Cal Burton!

  I sneaked back to the window and peeked around the edge. There they still were, almost at the mine now. I needed to go clean up, but I was dying to know what they were saying! Wh
at if they were talking about me?

  Pa turned and led the way toward the creek. They crossed the bridge and in another minute were out of sight, walking through the trees toward Uncle Nick and Aunt Katie’s. Without even thinking what I was doing, suddenly I left the barn and hurried after them, keeping out of sight behind trees and brush, just in case one of them should glance back in my direction.

  I made it all the way to the bridge, then stopped. I couldn’t hear their voices any longer.

  Quickly I ran across the bridge, then ducked out of sight off the pathway again. From there I slowly made my way through the trees toward the clearing, moving from tree to tree, glancing around to make sure no one else was coming who could see me. I slipped around behind the house. Everything was quiet, but I knew they were inside. I crept out from my hiding place and ran to the house, kneeling down behind one of the back windows.

  I was safe there. Even if someone came to the window and looked out, they couldn’t see me. That side of the house faced the forest, which was close by and generally darker than the front. I strained my ears to listen.

  “All this way to talk to our future Congressman, eh, Drum?” I heard Uncle Nick say.

  “No, he didn’t come to see me. I already told you, I’m not at all sure what I’m gonna do.”

  I heard a woman’s voice next, either Aunt Katie’s or Edie’s.

  “He came to see Corrie, of course,” Pa answered whoever it was. “And to take her back to Sacramento with him.”

  Some exclamations went around, followed by some laughter. How mortifying. They were talking about me!

  Uncle Nick must have made a joke, although I was glad I didn’t hear it. Some more laughter and comments went around the room. “I’m sure Corrie will keep her head,” said Katie.