LOVE'S TRIUMPH BEYOND HOPE AND FAITH: A Young Pastor's Struggle during the Great Depression

By Ed Marée

Historical fiction: A young pastor accepts a position in a country church as Rural America heads toward the throes of the Great Depression in 1932. The story describes dynamics of the church and rural community during depression hard times, struggling to keep hope and faith, but also needing love. Aspects of friendship and love, including a year

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Fennern
• Release date: Nov 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9780999253427

Ed Marée

Ed Marée is a pseudonym for two authors -cousins-who grew up in a small farming community. He, as a young student fulfilling a school assignment, interviewed his Welsh grandmother regarding life on the family farm during the Great Depression. Drawing on that interview, as well as personal experiences, he brings a male perspective to the story. She, who spent her childhood in a small town supporting the surrounding rural community, developed a love for reading and helping others. She brings a female perspective to the story. Both pursued technical careers in mid-life, he in engineering and she in radiology, but neither forgot the legacy of rural childhoods, enjoying gardening and activities today reminiscent of their rural roots. As retirement approached, they were able to reconnect, discussing life experiences and views on favorite novels, prompting them to pen this story.

Book preview

CHAPTER

One

Stepping Off the Train

Aroused, I thrust my head up and open my eyes. Was it the thunder clap or the train whistle that had startled me from my snoozing?

A sharp streak of lightning lit up the dark sky, followed by another deafening crack of thunder. Passengers murmured among themselves about the coming storm as raindrops began to strike the windows. I could see the lights of a town off in the distance.

Quickly the raindrops started flowing backwards on the window pane, coagulating in streams as the pounding rain pelted the train car roof. The reflection of my face in the window was distorted by the rain. I wondered, Who am I to think my work in Fredlig should have a chance to be successful? Didn’t my advising professor caution me that my youth and inexperience might bring criticism and conflict?

I heard long echoing of the whistle as the train began to ease up, the interval between the clicks and clacks of the wheels on the track growing longer. The town station came into view and I felt my body slide forward as the engineer applied the brakes. There was a cascade of bumps as the train cars behind ours wrenched to a stop. Passengers rose to leave as the doors opened; the air in the cabin filled with smoke and vapor. Those departing stepped off the train and ran to the station doors while others boarded.

I noticed a young woman rushing toward the train car, holding a small blue suitcase away from her side so it would not bump into her leg during her hurried gait. As new passengers boarded, she dropped off her suitcase in the luggage area. Drops of rain were falling off the brim of her jade green cloche onto her matching overcoat. She scoured the car, looking for an empty seat, then hurried down the aisle toward me. Is this seat taken? she breathlessly inquired.

I looked up into her captivating blue eyes beneath the brim of her cloche; it hid all but the lower curls of her lovely blond hair. No, it’s free. Please …, I said as I motioned toward the empty seat next to me with my hand.

She unbuttoned her overcoat and sat down; a few drops fell from her fur collar in my direction as she removed her gloves and placed them in her bag. I glanced her way, noticing her slender legs as she modestly tugged down the skirt of her brown dress.

Embarrassed, I raised my head quickly, glancing into her eyes and nervously half-smiling her way. She returned a slight smile before turning toward the front of the car. For a moment, it seemed that time stopped as I studied her ruby-red lips. She is stunningly beautiful! Poised … composed.

The loud train whistle shook me out of my reverie. Lightning flashed again, and I turned toward the window. The train started with a jerk, and slowly moved forward. Near the edge of the station a man’s face appeared, cautiously peering over a stack of crates on a cart as he glanced up and down the tracks. A hobo searching for a boxcar to take him to his next destination?

The rain pounded harder on the train’s roof as we moved forward, its sound mixed with the engine chugging as it labored forward, the train’s speed increasing, with clouds of steam hissing in reply.

My thoughts returned to my future. Fifteen more miles to Fredlig. It had been several months since I had completed theological school, and I had finally received a call to lead a flock of the faithful. Granted, it was just a small country church with a few faithful, but it would be my first position as a pastor serving the Lord.

But will there be a future for me, with the Depression going on? What if the church is unable to pay my salary? What if my professor’s warning about criticism due to my youth and inexperience should result in my dismissal?

A Bible verse came to mind, ‘My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’ For the moment, I cast off my anxiety.

As we left the town, the view disappeared in the darkness and my reflection returned in the window. But not just mine—there she was, beside me. She leaned her head against the back of her seat and closed her eyes. I imagined her falling asleep, her head drifting onto my shoulder.

Compose yourself, Christer. I closed my eyes and focused on an old, familiar hymn, humming softly as my mind played through the words.

‘Jesus is all the world to me,

My life, my joy, my all;

He is my strength from day to day,

Without him I would fall …’

I fell asleep again, and when I woke, the rain was falling softly but steadily. The train began to slow down and a few lights began to appear in the approaching town. The passengers began to rustle and I noticed her opening her eyes. She reached into her purse and pulled her gloves on as the train braked to a stop at a small station. I retrieved a piece of paper from my coat pocket and struggled to see the name written on it: Bjorn Bystrom.

A few passengers moved toward the exit. She glanced my way, again with a polite smile, and rose to depart. I stood up, grabbed my hat from the overhead bin, and followed her to the front of the car. She easily lifted her small suitcase while I struggled with my heavy trunk. Cautiously I followed her down the wet steps into the rain.

She hurried ahead into the station, while I fell behind. Once inside the station waiting room, I caught a glance of her approaching a strong, handsome, weathered gentleman with slightly greying hair. I noticed them hug briefly.

There were approximately eighteen other people in the room, all of whom seemed to be meeting others or at least knew where to go. I stared at the piece of paper again, and as I looked up, I saw the gentleman motioning the young woman to follow him. Surprisingly, they began to approach me. He walked up directly to me, asking, Reverend Nilsson?

Yes, I’m Christer. Mr. Bystrom?

Yes, I’m Bjorn Bystrom, and this is my daughter, Elina.

We already met on the train, Daddy, she replied.

Well then, good, he exclaimed while nodding his head briefly in understanding. He looked at both of us and continued, Bring your luggage and follow me. We paused momentarily at the station door. A bit of nasty weather, he noted, before we charged out into the darkness.

CHAPTER

Two

New Beginnings

The three of us rushed out into the rain, stopping at a blue Chevy truck. Mr. Bystrom opened the back gate and Elina tossed her blue suitcase into the truck bed, while I struggled to lift my trunk up to meet the bed’s height. Noticing my struggle, Mr. Bystrom lent a hand.

Elina, you should sit in the middle, Mr. Bystrom called out. She scurried to get inside the truck from the passenger side door while I followed close behind her. Mr. Bystrom climbed in from the driver’s side door. We crowded onto the front seat and slammed the metal doors shut. There we sat, water running off our coats and hats.

Elina, Mr. Bystrom said, you’ll need to scoot over so that I can operate the shift lever. She moved obediently toward me, turning her legs and feet away from the lever. I felt her knee touching mine.

It’s cold in here, Daddy, she declared. I wish you would have purchased a heater when you bought this truck!

Well, dear, I may have managed okay as a dairy farmer, but not enough to buy a luxury like a heater for this truck.

Oh, Daddy, you could have bought a heater. After all, you were able to purchase this blue Chevy instead of a standard black Ford!

Let’s not forget expensive tuition payments for my darling daughter!

She appreciates what you’ve done for her, Elina retorted, leaning over toward her dad and kissing his cheek. At the same time, I felt her leg press against mine as her center of gravity shifted. In the close quarters, my heart began to beat more rapidly, warmth spreading throughout my body. I was uneasy, being so close to such a beautiful young woman, the daughter of one of the church’s Elder Board members. Does she sense my nervousness, I wondered?

Mr. Bystrom started the engine and turned on the headlights and windshield wiper. It was hard for me to see, not only because there was no windshield wiper on the passenger side, but also because the front window began to fog up.

Reverend Nilsson, we’ll need to roll down the side windows a bit to get some air circulating in here to clear the windshield, Mr. Bystrom declared.

And I can use some air for another reason, I thought, having Elina in mind.

Mr. Bystrom pulled out a towel from under his seat and wiped the windshield on the driver’s side. I rolled down the passenger side window just a bit, until I felt rain drifting in through the crack.

Soon we were off. I tried to help Mr. Bystrom navigate out of the station parking area by watching the traffic through the narrow opening of my window, but almost everything was just a dim blur. Nonetheless, we were soon on the road, heading south out of Fredlig.

So, you’re the new pastor! Elina exclaimed as she turned toward me.

Shyly, I silently nodded my head yes a couple of times.

Is this your first job? she smiled.

I felt a little defensive. Oh, yes it is, I replied. How did you surmise that?

Well, you’re young, handsome, and evidently unattached.

I felt my face heat up, glad that she could not see me blushing in the darkness. Correct on all, I nervously replied, except that part about being handsome.

Quite modest, aren’t you? Just out of college?

No. Actually, I graduated from seminary almost a year ago, but times are tough. It took a while to get this job.

What did you do in the meantime?

Lived with my mom, and volunteered to help at a mission soup kitchen.

Really?

Yeah, my mom is a regular volunteer at the mission; it was impossible for me to say no. Mostly I tried to spread hope and cheer for those waiting for me to fill their bowls. Sometimes I would even give a sermon while they ate. I also helped with the cooking and clean-up.

Multi-talented!

You do what you have to do.

Well, it seems to have worked for you—hope and cheer, that is—because here you are, starting your first pastoral job.

It’s a blessing from the Lord. Mom was sad to see me leave, of course, but she has friends at the mission and friends at her church.

What about the rest of your family, your dad, brothers, sisters?

I hesitated, but as she seemed a bit uncomfortable at my hesitation, I responded in as positive a manner as I could, Just me and my mom. Then I asked in return, How about your family?

Of course, Daddy and Mama are on the farm. I have an older brother, who is studying at the State University, and a younger brother, who is still at home. Most of my relatives live in or around Fredlig. Where’s your mother’s home?

Chicago.

So you attended seminary in Chicago?

I did.

You’re quite a distance from home, then. A city boy, huh? Have you spent time in the country before?

No, I mean you’re right, I’m a city boy. Living in the country will be a new experience for me.

I hope you’ll survive without all those city conveniences.

Well, you know, I began, as Elina joined in unison with me, you do what you have to do.

I continued, Hope and faith are all I have; besides, they’re more important than city conveniences. How about you? I questioned. Do you miss the country since you went off to college?

Oh, hardly, but Karlstad College isn’t exactly in a big city; I’m just a couple of train stops from home. Being close by was Daddy’s idea.

Mr. Bystrom had remained quiet up to this point, content to eavesdrop on their conversation. However, Elina’s comment deserved some clarification.

It would have been too hard on your mother to have you as far away as your brother is at the State University, he noted. Besides, Karlstad College is an excellent liberal arts school.

Yes, Daddy, but you know I’m determined to see the rest of the world. Turning toward me, she whispered in my ear, My dream is to visit Chicago and New York, and even London and Paris someday.

Then she abruptly changed the subject. So how did you land the pastor position at Fredlig Prairie Church?

Your father can probably answer that better than me.

The Elder Board voted on a recommendation from Reverend Nilsson’s Seminary Advisor, Mr. Bystrom was quick to note.

Hardly unanimous, I suppose, Elina surmised, given that Mr. Ogdberg is one of the elders.

I could sense her distaste for Mr. Ogdberg, but her father quickly replied, The vote was two for, and Mr. Ogdberg against. But let’s not bias Reverend Nilsson’s view of Mr. Ogdberg. He has extensive biblical knowledge, which I’m sure he’s anxious to share with the Reverend.

She again whispered in my ear. You may need more than hope and faith with Mr. Ogdberg. His surname would be more properly spelled Godberg!

I let that comment pass, exhibiting my usual meek behavior. Then we continued to talk, about the classes she was taking: English literature, European history of the Middle Ages, French, and