Chapter 27 - A Pastor's Wife

This stage of life is a dramatic shift. For years I have received instruction, discipleship. Now Zach and I are to take leadership of a church in northern Minnesota for two years —to care for others more than receive. I am ready mentally and spiritually, but emotionally sometimes feel at loose ends.

We find a blue and white mobile home to rent in a trailer park at the west end of Bagley. It’s 8 feet wide and 50 feet long, with a compact, turquoise-themed kitchen, a living room, bath, and two tiny bedrooms. I make it homey with our small blue couch and a few pictures, and tape a poster of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (with Etta) to the refrigerator for dramatic effect! In another place I tape a poster of a girl walking down the railroad tracks into the distance. I am here now, but someday will be moving on…

We begin to visit homes in Ebro (about 10 miles west of Bagley) and make friends with the people, including some Native Americans. Some homes are neat and clean, others less so, with junk piles in their yards. Grandma Watnous is one of the older residents, a Norwegian who has prayed and supported the church for years. She lives with her daughter and son-in-law, shares her heart over coffee. “I prayed for a young couple to come, because I want more youth to attend the church.”

“Well, thank you, Grandma,” I answer. “We’re here because you interceded!”

We walk around the parsonage on the rise behind the church. It has been empty for a while, has no indoor bathroom. Zachary is to gut most of the house and build a bathroom-laundry addition on the south side, with the Alliance mission fund supplying materials. So for months Zach is busy at the parsonage, driving back and forth in our white truck.

When Mom and Dad head back with Dan and Dave to Irian Jaya, we drive to the Twin Cities to see them off for their next term of four years. There are so many goodbyes on the earth! Romaine (now graduated from nurses training) and I hug them with tears. It helps that I am trusting that Zach and I will arrive in Irian as mission workers ourselves.

I now have Mom and Dad’s sleek car to drive, so with wheels I can find a nursing job. The small hospital in Bagley has no openings, but Fosston, west of Ebro (and 18 miles from Bagley) has a part-time evening position. I interview and am hired. I’ll be the only RN at the 35 bed hospital, with an LPN to distribute meds, and three nursing assistants. Elated but nervous, I wonder—am I responsible enough to be over the emergency room, the only RN to help deliver babies with the doctor. What if a patient dies on my shift?

The older nurses orient me well, and I take charge with trepidation. When we do have a mother in labor the older nursing assistants who have worked there for years are helpful. “I think it’s time to call the doctor,” one murmurs to me. “She’s had several babies, and she’s moving fast.”

There are three doctors admitting doctors—all brothers, older men who have grown up in the community and followed their physician father’s footsteps. All are considerate, and the oldest, Dr. George Sather takes a kindly interest in me.

As weeks pass Zachary and I make friends in the community. Some are neighbors, like the Lambs who live across from the church. Leo is white, Mary Jane Ojibwe Indian, and their eight children are rambunctious and loveable. They begin to attend church, as do Buck and Bonnie and their four kids. Bonnie is Ojibwe, newly come back to the Lord. She was raised by two mission worker women and is determined to follow the Lord, as is Buck.

Josh and Leota Dahl and their children begin showing up at the church on Sundays, and are such an encouragement. Josh owns the plumbing shop in Bagley and helps with the parsonage addition. He’s not a Christian yet, he says. Leota is hungry for more of the Holy Spirit, so we begin having Bible studies at their large home in Bagley.

God brings friendships, practical help, the anointing of His Spirit. On Sundays Zachary teaches Sunday school to the adults and I to the children in a side room. Afterwards Zach leads worship on the guitar, then he preaches sincerely. Slowly the numbers increase and I quietly rejoice, writing attendance in a small brown book.

Meanwhile autumn’s red and gold leaves fall, the meadows are frosty in the mornings, and nights become bitter cold. Sometimes clouds are gray and lowering for days, and my outlook grows dim, despite the church growth. I feel like I am walking through a wilderness, a low depressed area where all around the horizon looks the same.

“Are we really accomplishing much in this community?” I wonder to Zach one day. “Progress is slow…even if all the people came on a single Sunday, we wouldn’t fill the church. And I miss classes, the activity of college life. Many people haven’t been educated beyond high school. I feel isolated—I miss our old friends!”

“Yeah, I miss our friends too, especially the motorcycle guys. But we are making new ones. And we’re learning how to disciple people. Buck and Bonnie have made progress, and look how the home group at Josh and Leota’s is growing. We’re sowing seeds. And some people are watching, even if we don’t know it. We need to be patient.”

“Shall we take Mondays off instead of Saturdays and drive east to Bemidji? You always have to study for the sermon on Saturday anyway. On Mondays we could browse at the library, go out to eat, have a change of scenery in a bigger town.”

“Sure, that’s a good idea. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so isolated then.” And Zach prayed with me. “Lord, help Marti to be happy in Your work. Give us love for all of the people here….help us to be content.”

“Yes Lord,” I agreed. “Every person in this community is precious. Help us to see each one as You do, and know how to serve them.”

But Zachary doesn’t always want to pray together. During one period of discouragement I look over the horizon spiritually and consider leaving God’s will. “I always wanted to be a flight attendant,” I think. “What if I leave and do just that! I can travel all over the world…life will be so much more exciting.”

After careful reflection I realize that leaving God’s will for me will mean saying no to Him and walking into darkness. Inwardly I can see it—walking stubbornly from light into a cloud of darkness. I have a will…I can choose to leave, to make my own way.

And I know it is dangerous. If I leave the Lord, I have no guarantee of returning whenever I want. The Holy Spirit must draw a person, I know. In the end I choose to hang on in obedience, and have peace.