Читать книгу Spring Creek Bride - Janice Thompson - Страница 16

The shrill whistle of the morning train from Galveston roused Ida from her groggy state. The grinding of brakes, the piercing squeal of metal against metal, the rhythmic clacking of wheels against lines of track—these familiar sounds at daybreak merged with the shouts of the railroad men as the cars inched their way by. Why must we live so close to the switchyard?

Papa had built the lumber mill years before the track was laid. But then the railroad had come through and taken over the town—in a hundred different ways.

Ida stretched for a moment and allowed her eyes to become accustomed to the sunlight peeking through the lace curtains. She propped up her pillows and sat up in the bed. Then Ida reached for the worn Bible on the bedside table, one of her most precious possessions, and ran her finger across her mother’s name inside.

“Oh, Mama, I wish you were here.” She missed their morning prayers together and her mother’s nightly readings from the worn book.

Ida leaned against the pillows and opened the Bible to the book of Esther, where she read, for the hundredth time, the story of the young queen approaching the king’s throne with fear and trembling.

Ida closed her eyes, deep in thought. Every time she pictured Esther approaching the throne, she couldn’t help but envision herself doing the same thing.

Oh, but what would it be like, to come into the king’s chambers uninvited? To approach without invitation? And yet, Esther braved the journey, taking one courageous step after the other, and all because of God’s calling—for such a time as this.

One step at a time, Ida saw herself inching toward the Savior’s outstretched arms.

Come to me, child. Don’t be afraid.

At some point along the way, fear gripped her heart and her eyes flew open.

“I am afraid,” she whispered as she clutched the Bible to her chest, tears springing to her eyes. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to do what You have called me to do. Or that I will somehow do it incorrectly. And I’m afraid—” she paused, startled by her thoughts “—that Papa will die someday, too, and I’ll truly be alone.”

She began to cry in earnest now. Where did this fear come from? Just because she’d lost her mother didn’t mean Papa would soon follow.