The Calling of Emily Evans
“She wished that Big John, as he was known in the area, didn’t treat her quite so gruffly and that the young fellows did not loiter about the doors of the blacksmith shop staring at her as she walked to the post office or did her shopping. She wished the neighborhood women were more free to drop in for a cup of tea and that the young children didn’t still dip their heads in shyness when she spoke to them.
“Be patient,” she kept insisting to herself, but sometimes it was very hard to do so.
Gradually the attendance in the little church picked up. But just when Emily began to exult over the possibility of higher numbers, others would drop out.
“How do I keep them faithful? Consistent?” she lamented to the Lord.“I know I’m not a good preacher—but I try to make it interesting.”
Letters from Ruth still included glowing reports of the growth in her church, though she too acknowledged a setback or two.
Things were even more difficult for Verna Woods, Emily concluded after reading her letter.
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