Woodcutter's Revival, page 10
Raymond was invited to the Thomas’ for Christmas dinner. As he was getting ready to go, he could think of no other place where he would rather spend Christmas, or any other day for that matter. In spite of Mr. Thomas’ ominous presence, Raymond enjoyed time there very much.
He spent most of his morning eating breakfast at the inn and sitting in the dining room reading and drinking coffee. He noticed that Sarah was serving in fancier cups than usual. She also poured the coffee from a pot that had a matching bear design on it. She kept them on the wood stove that was used to heat the dining room and keep food warm between servings.
All the flatware and serving dishes were nicer today than the usual daily wear. They were still in no way as nice as the everyday items found in the Thomas alcove. Raymond wondered if Sarah had to request the holiday ware, although Mr. Thomas did seem more sentimental than usual during the holiday season.
Raymond did not want to be alone for any part of the day. He thought about home and the family. He wondered what they would have for dinner, what his sister had received for a gift, what Mom and Dad bought or made for each other.
He returned, in his mind, to his favorite subject of thought. Victoria could cook like no other woman he had ever met. Sure Mom was a great cook, but being on the farm, she was more of a meat and potatoes cook. The food prepared by Victoria was the best one could obtain in the winter. Mom had canned all vegetables the previous summer for their winter provisions. Whether they were in the mountains or on the family farm, he knew the food up here cost a lot, but it was sure worth it. He tried to estimate how much it cost to ship canned vegetables and fresh or processed fruit by rail to this remote area.
Of course, the taste and aroma of the food was secondary to Victoria’s company. He thought how his affection seemed to be reciprocated. Then, he wondered if the sharp rebuke from the previous night might overshadow the day. After all, he trusted her and had no basis from which to form an opinion since he had never been in a situation like this before. He wondered if anybody else had felt this certain and confused at the same time before.
Raymond figured the food and spending time with Victoria was worth putting up with Mr. Thomas. He always stressed his point in conversation and had a need to be right, even if the point was hardly worth arguing. An example was the previous Sunday when Raymond had casually mentioned something about Lincoln being born in Kentucky. Mr. Thomas began to argue a little combatively, as if sparring for sport. Raymond said, “With all due respect, I believe we could look it up.”
Mr. Thomas had become irritable. Raymond, with stern glances from Victoria, as tactfully as possible, changed the subject. Mr. Thomas later interjected into the conversation of Raymond’s confusion about the states. At first, Raymond thought it a trifle and shook it off. Later, he seemed troubled by the vindictiveness and the need to be right exhibited by Mr. Thomas.
No matter, this was Christmas day and Raymond was spending it with Victoria. He finished his coffee, went back upstairs, put his book away, splashed some water on his face and took a last look in the mirror. He strolled over to the house, whistling.
They had a wonderful dinner, as usual. After dinner, they exchanged gifts. Mr. Thomas seemed more preoccupied than usual and shortly excused himself. “Where does he go when he leaves?”
“One time I asked him. He reminded me his job was to watch over me and we should not get the roles reversed. I’ve heard he goes to the saloon to play cards with some people visiting town.”
“Who would be visiting on Christmas Day?”
“I don’t know,” she said abruptly.
Raymond remembered back to meeting Mr. Conner on the train, but he did not want to mention to Victoria they had met. Raymond knew better than to dig too deeply into the topic, so he changed the subject. “You’re so different than any of the town people. In fact, I have never met anybody like you. Where did you get your fascination for books?”
“I lived with my Aunt Whitney for a time. My mom died after she came to Discovery. Father built a big new house for her, but the flu came through and she did not make it through the winter. He kept me in private school and thought I would be in better care if I stayed with Mom’s sister, at least for a while. When I left on the train, he never thought it would be four years.
“Before he came here, he and my Uncle Michael tried everything, but could not keep the farm. Father decided to stake a claim and prospect. Amazingly, he struck it rich, unlike so many others who failed and returned home, broke. He was only making enough to support one person, at first.
He sent for Michael and they agreed to be partners. Michael built the smelter and they began to prosper. He started to get the town established and sent for Mom and me when the railroad finished its spur line into Discovery. Michael was gone to war for a short time. During that time my mother died, and I was sent off to Aunt Whitney’s.
“Whenever I would object about his working the others too hard, taking short cuts on safety, or using placer mining after it had been banned, he would say, ‘Oh, she got her liberal views from her crazy aunt and her big city education.’
“What happened to placer mining?”
“It was outlawed in the Mining Act of 1872. The process destroyed too much of the natural environment, caused erosion, and pollution. He argued that it was more economical and why should he be punished in his ability to make money?
“I prefer to think I was influenced more by the stories my Uncle Michael used to tell me. My favorite was the story of Moses. When he was born he was sentenced to death along with all the other Israelite boys up to two years old. Pharaoh had become concerned that the Hebrew slaves were prospering even though he had done everything possible to prevent them from flourishing. The irony was that Moses was raised in the very house of Pharaoh by his own mother as a maid-servant.
“He became the second most powerful man in the most powerful nation on earth. He even found more favor and earned more responsibility than Pharaoh’s own son. Later, he saw an Egyptian abusing an Israelite. He acted impulsively and slew the Egyptian. He had to flee for his life, because he stood against injustice, even though he went too far. He lived in exile for forty years. In a moment, he chose between the wealth, comfort, privilege and prosperity of Egypt to live in exile as a shepherd.”
“What about your Uncle Michael? What happened to him?”
Victoria’s countenance became very sober. “He stole a load of silver from Father and never came back to town.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he got desperate. I try to remember him before that happened, and believe something happened to cause him to act in a way he wouldn’t have acted under normal circumstances. I hope he comes back someday and asks for Father’s forgiveness. I know Father is big enough to forgive him.”
Raymond was staring into Victoria’s eyes. Something about the vulnerable look that thinking and talking about Michael and the past made her irresistible. He leaned closer. She did not turn her head or pull away. The first kiss.
Christmas had come and gone. The day was like most other days spent in the cabin. Stewart realized when he was staying with Michael, Christmas had not been just another day. Rather, most days were like Christmas. They had friendship, a warm cabin with plenty of firewood and food laid away. Stewart only hoped he was giving, at least in part, back to Michael. He knew Michael had taught and drawn wisdom from him. He wondered what he was giving Michael.
They had both dozed off while sitting by the fire in the late afternoon. Stewart woke first, stirred the fire and made some more coffee. His rustling caused Michael to stir. Stewart filled the cups when the coffee was ready. As they warmed themselves they began to converse. Michael began a topic he had only mentioned once prior to this afternoon. He only mentioned it previously due to Stewart’s prodding. The topic was the past, in Discovery. Michael asked, “Have you ever despaired of life?”
Stewart answered, “I think I might have an idea of what you mean, but I am not sure.”
“I guess I would ask, ‘Have you ever just felt like giving up?’ I did in Discovery. I had seen the dreams of youth die. I had always hoped to farm the family land with my brother. Then our parents died so suddenly. We held on longer than we should have until it was all gone. We weren’t even able to sell the land. That didn’t do it, though.
It seems the disasters which were brought upon us and were beyond our control made us stronger. Or it could be we were so young and foolish we thought we could handle anything.
“It seemed more like the chain of events which kept happening tended to finally wear us down. We tended to grieve more over choices which turned bad than over natural disaster. For example, try taking a person’s life and he will fight you, but a person can give up and might even consider taking his own life. Some people call it melancholy. I call it the ‘Despondency.’
“Sometimes you wake from a deep sleep and start thinking. You don’t want to think, but you do. You just want to go back to sleep. You think of things that need to get done. You haven’t put them off, but for everything you get done, you feel like there are two more in its place. You think of things you could have done and things you wish you hadn’t done. The harder you fight to sleep, the more you find yourself wide awake.
“Then, you get the dreaded realization that you are getting older. The things that used to be easy, like going through the day with little sleep, or putting in a full day’s work with energy to spare, become more difficult. When you are doing your required daily tasks, you want to be sleeping. When you are in bed, trying to go sleep, you wish it were day so you could get things done. The night seems endless and the things you picture in your mind seem to have a dark pallor of dread hanging over them.
“To top it all off, there is one thing worse than not having dreams or not reaching the dreams you have. That is spending all your efforts on one thing and then accomplishing it to find it wasn’t really what you wanted at all.”
Stewart inquired, “It almost sounds as if nothing is worth the effort.”
“Not at all! The best object of life is to put the most effort into everything. Do the best you can at what you have and then as you accomplish it, move on to the next thing. As you get older, you hope you find the time to rest physically, but you have to guard your thoughts. You have to focus on the positive and learn to appreciate each day. This is what Psalm ninety talks about in learning to number our days that we may be found with a heart of wisdom.
“Let me show you those verses,” said Michael, as he fumbled for his Bible.
“Psalm ninety, twelve to seventeen says,
Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Relent, O Lord! How long will it be? Have compassion on your servants. Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days, Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we have seen trouble. May your deeds be shown to your servants. Your splendor shown to their children. May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us - yes, establish the work of our hands.
“Then, over in ninety-one, five through eight, he says: ‘You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side; ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. You will only observe with your eye and see the punishment of the wicked.’
“That sure sounds like San Juan Hill. Teddy and all of us displayed this type of courage. Do you know that most of the terrors you imagine are worse than the actual incidents themselves? San Juan Hill was worse, but we showed courage.
One other verse related to these that you need to know to equip yourself. Proverbs five, one and two says, ‘My son, pay attention to My wisdom, listen well to My words of insight, that you may maintain discretion and your lips may preserve knowledge.’
“Some translations say, ‘Discernment,’ in place of ‘discretion.’ Now if you number your days, live each day to the fullest, and one day at a time, you will have discernment and discretion. You will be able to understand people’s motives and not find yourself hoodwinked by them. You will not worry over things that you can do nothing about anyway, you will find joy, and God will confirm the works of your hands.
Stewart asked, “Michael, what have you done since you have been up here?”
“A lot of thinking. The main conclusion I have drawn is the only things of lasting value, besides the necessities of survival, are those things which affect the lives of others. Those things which cause others to evaluate their perspectives and change them as needed.”
“It’s kind of ironic, Michael. You charged up San Juan Hill in Cuba, but you retreated into the San Juan Mountains when you came here.”
“I guess that is correct. I never thought of that.”
“You know, my brother had a certain passion for life. He used to say he made his own way and if you worked hard, you will be successful. That was true to a degree. He did not account for God’s grace. God provides for the sparrows, but they still have to gather. The part my brother didn’t understand is that God provided. His passion was for what he could accomplish or acquire. I don’t think he ever thought about the wisdom of seeking God’s will for his life. His was a sense of entitlement, as if to say, ‘Success is owed to me.’
“He thought we were successful because of his ability to select where to dig and our hard work. He failed to take into account that he stumbled onto the site where Discovery is located. We were also quite fortunate that prospectors were going through and needed supplies. We were able to make some money and offer a service by opening the wood-fired smelter. He must have had some political pull in obtaining the spur line into town and obtaining an investor. That opened everything. He could then ship the silver out, obtain coal to upgrade his smelter and obtain supplies to resell.
“Another irony was that my brother thought any government intervention was wrong as it hindered his ability to make a fortune, such as child labor laws, anti-trust legislation, women’s suffrage, and pollution restrictions. He did, however want government guarantees to purchase silver to mint coins, and protection and security. He wanted the benefits of free enterprise without the liabilities or responsibilities.
Stewart added, “Following that line of logic, he was probably in favor of slavery, as it helped those with the means to maintain their high standard of living with cheap or free labor.”
“We did not talk about slavery. We were both too young to fight in the Civil War.”
They continued to talk long into the night. Finally, Stewart felt so tired he had to excuse himself to go to bed. As he turned in, he noticed Michael was sitting at the table with a lamp, writing intensely. Stewart quickly drifted off into a deep sleep.
Morning arrived very quickly. It seemed he had just closed his eyes on the silhouette of Michael writing at the table, to open them again to find the cabin dark. He realized he had slept the night away and it was now early morning.
He decided to get up and tend to the stove, make some coffee and start breakfast. As he lit the lamp, he noticed some notes scribbled on a paper. Trying not to be too nosey, he started to arrange the papers into a neat stack so they would require less room on the table. He looked at a page which read: “When I hear a heart-felt performance or read an inspiring thought, I sometimes weep - not only because the music was beautiful or the thought deeply profound. Rather, I weep when I see someone applying themselves and putting their heart into their expression, demonstrating passion. Though they may never obtain it, they are reaching for their potential.”
Stewart wept too because he discerned the heart of the man who wrote these thoughts. He understood what it meant to display passion in your expression.
Chapter Eleven
THE DEPARTURE
Stewart knew the time for his departure was drawing near. He viewed the possibility with very mixed emotions. He hated the thought of leaving Michael and not being around his enriching but simple environment. He looked forward, however, with increasing anticipation to moving on with his life. When he decided to venture through the mountains into Wellspring, he knew there would be many possibilities.
Stewart knew, upon leaving home, that he would probably find a career, meet the best friend of his life and, yes, probably find a wife. He had no idea he would meet such a good friend as Michael, this short of a distance into the mountains. He was particularly surprised to find such a good friend with so much difference in age and experience from his own.
While he was thinking, Michael got out of bed, assisted by his crutch, and walked over to the table. He had a distinct limp, yet was beginning to get around the cabin without assistance.” Michael, are you going to be able to hunt and fend for yourself when I leave?”
“Of course, boy. Don’t worry about an old man like me. Shoot, I’m all rested and ready to wrestle a bear.”
“Michael, I wasn’t trying to be nosey, but I noticed some of the material you have written. I think it’s wonderful!”
“I thought it might be useful for me to keep my thoughts recorded. Writing helps me sort out my experiences and find some consolation for having gone through so many of them. Who knows, somebody else might be able to read through it and get something.”
“It seems you have so much to share. I know people will find it useful. If someone could suffer a little less by reading about your suffering, it’ll have been worth the effort. If somebody gains by reading about the injustices you suffered, that may bring some sort of restitution and healing.”
“Well. I hope so. If someone could suffer a little less by reading about my suffering, I suppose the second sacrifice of writing it down is worth the effort. It is kind of like the firewood analogy we discussed earlier. You get warmed when you cut it, and increase your strength and stamina, due to the physical effort. Then the person with whom you share the fire and you both get warmed. I don’t think we go through any of life’s experiences without a purpose. I know I could not write about justice if I hadn’t experienced injustice.”
