Christopher's Journey: Sometimes it takes being lost to find yourself

  Chapter 8

  Chris laid, still wide eyed, on his new bed in his own place. He looked around to the improvements that Mrs. Browley and Priscilla had worked so hard on. They had placed thick quilts over the window and over the door which he held down with a log. The table had been set with a fresh, clean tablecloth, a kerosene lamp and some matches. The mattress was freshly stuffed with straw which poked him if he moved just right but was luxury compared to laying on the ropes as he’d done too many times. The braided rug on the floor next to his bed was warm to step on in the morning. One chair from the table had been placed at the foot of his bed for him to set his clothes on. The iron stove in the corner had been cleaned up and the wood box outside the door was filled. Since he would be having all of his meals at their house, the only thing he’d need the woodstove for was heat when the time came. With summer just around the corner, he wouldn’t need heat for awhile.

  Chris’ thoughts were too scattered to go to sleep. He still pondered on the sermon he heard that morning. After the service and after every person in that church approached him to welcome him and shake his hand, he walked up to Pastor Walling.

  “Just out of curiosity, where do you get your sermons?” Chris asked hesitantly.

  “What do you mean, get them?”

  “What makes you talk about what you’re going to talk about?” not knowing how else to ask.

  “Well, the Lord tells me what to discuss in my sermons, I leave it in his hands so that I may be able to help at least one person. Did it speak to you?” The pastor asked with hopeful eyes.

  “I was just wondering.” Chris responded as he fidgeted his hands and feet.

  It confirmed what Chris had been thinking. That sermon was directed to him. He needed to change his attitude but is that something you can do overnight? He still didn’t want to be here, he still didn’t want to work on the dirty, back breaking farm, he didn’t want to live in the ground like some sort of nocturnal creature. He still wanted to go back home. Even with no one there waiting for him, he missed electricity, convenience, bathrooms!

  Hanna still had a hard time speaking with him that day. He did the best he could to recover from his stupor the day before, but he didn’t think she was buying it. His unusually strong feelings toward her made him want to try harder to make her like him. Tomorrow she would be in school, so the only time would be around supper. He had to think of a way to win her over.

  Chris remembered what Mr. Browley had told him they were working on the next day. Filling Chris’ wood box brought their wood stock down dangerously, it was time to replenish and restock. Chris had never chopped wood before especially not without a chainsaw, chopping down trees by hand was going to finish him once and for all. He dreaded the time but knew he’d be even more useless if he didn’t get some sleep. With every effort he could muster, he turned off his brain and dozed off.