Andrew and Sarah Adams were one of the older couples gathered to the Lord's name in Jaffrey. It wasn't that the other couples hadn't been equally as kind to the Bentons, but the Adams lived nearby. Most of the families lived farther out into the country. By contrast, it was just a short bicycle ride over to their house. Jennie leaned her bicycle against the garage, then dashed up the steps to the front porch.
Her father insisted she make friends with at least this one older couple. She was trying hard to think of them now as people and not merely as old folks. But it wasn't easy. What could a couple of older people give her to make up for friends her own age?
Jennie knew perfectly well that if they were free to go to one of the large churches several miles down the road toward Boston, there would be plenty of young people and activity. In San Francisco, being gathered to the name of the Lord Jesus alone meant being in a gathering with dozens of people. There was no reproach connected with that, so she had not questioned whether it was the right place. But here, being in such a small group, with no one but Kara anywhere near her age, she was faced with the reality of what it meant to meet in this way.
Back home, remembering the Lord in His death was precious to her. There was an undefinable beauty, as she felt the Spirit of God lead and guide what was said and done. One brother in the Lord would give out a hymn, another pray, another read a portion from the Bible. Everything was done in quietness and order.
Now she was having to separate in her mind what being gathered to the Lord's name meant, from the fact that here in Jaffrey there happened to be just a few older people. Actually, the number of people had nothing to do with whether it was the right place or not. She had never, ever doubted back home, so why should she doubt here?
Maybe this was what her father had meant once, when he told her that the Lord brings each one to a time of testing in their lives, when they have to prove whether or not what they are following is real.
She would never forget that first night when she walked into the meeting room in Jaffrey and saw them all staring back at her. She looked beyond their friendly smiles and genuine warmth, convinced they were just staring. Looking about the circle, she felt despair. These were to be her friends? How could she be friends with people years and years older than herself? As soon as she was able to return to the privacy of her own room, she flung herself against her pillow and cried long into the night. It wasn't the people themselves that upset her; it was because they were too old to be her friends. It was the realization that there just weren't any young people.
Now, as she reached the front porch, she spotted Mr. Adams up in the apple tree, pruning some of the branches.
"Hi, Jennie!" he called down to her in his bright way.
She followed Mrs. Adams into their cozy kitchen with its big red rocker. Her Bible, as always, was lying open on the table. Jennie walked past it hurriedly, toward the basket of fresh rolls and two loaves of homemade bread that were sitting on the counter waiting to go to the Benton home. She felt guilty for even taking them, her resentment toward living here, toward the Adams and everyone else having been so intense all morning. But she couldn't resist!
Walking up to the table, she sampled one of the fresh rolls that seemed to be waiting there for her. She observed Mrs. Adams for a moment. She was like a little grandmother, a bit plump, quite short, her dark hair with only a few strands of gray, pulled back into a small knot. Her eyes were brown and warm, and quick to reflect joy or sadness sometimes even fire! She wore a print dress with a small brooch at the neckline. Mrs. Adams had the vitality about her normally associated with youth, but it didn't make her young. Jennie watched her as she worked about the spotless kitchen, disappointed when Mrs. Adams suggested they go out on the porch swing and visit awhile. This day especially, she so wanted to just pick up the rolls and return home right away.
Later, as they sat on the porch, they watched Mr. Adams. He was still up in the apple tree, pruning branches. There was hardly a visit when he hadn't gone down to the corner bakery and brought back a delicious pie for Jennie, or some other treat. After a time he climbed down from the tree, glad for a break from his work and offered to bring them both something to eat. He was always so happy to wait on them, never complaining, serving them with his cheerful smile.
Jennie watched as he shook the loose dirt from himself and walked slowly into the kitchen. He was short, like his wife, with white, curly hair and a quiet manner.
He never joined them in their visits unless it was lunch time. Then, seated around the table, he would tell Jennie how he built this house with his own hands. At first it was just a small cottage, then as the children came, he added two upstairs bedrooms under the eaves. He also built the big stone fireplace at the end of the living room.
Mrs. Adams loved her little home. It was simple, but complete. Jennie knew a baby boy had once died in this home. Mrs. Adams mentioned how her husband at that time took their three little girls shopping and bought them each a new coat, surprising their mother.
Mr. Adams brought the round tray out with cookies set carefully on starched napkins.
Mrs. Adams raised sad, hurt eyes up to Jennie, "When I talked to your mother on the phone this morning, she was very discouraged."
Jennie knew what was coming. She had been giving her mother a bad time, blaming her for the move, and begging her to let her go back home for the summer.
"She needs you here so much, Jennie," the older woman counseled.
Jennie fumbled with the napkin on her lap. "I know Mother needs me. She can't manage alone and Kara isn't that much help. Lisa is sometimes more trouble than anything else with her mischievous ways, always getting herself into something. Still, I don't see why Kara couldn't watch over Lisa this summer," she concluded.
She remembered a few days before, when she asked Lisa if she didn't ever feel sad and lonely in this place. Lisa's eyes twinkled and in childish simplicity she answered, "Why, of course not! As long as I have Mommy and Daddy and you and Kara and the Lord Jesus, I'm happy!"
Mrs. Adams was opening her Bible, turning to Romans, chapter 12. Jennie squirmed as she began reading. If only she could escape! Soon these words filled the air: "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service."
"Reasonable service," Mrs. Adams pointed out, "sounds almost like it is the least that can be expected of us."
Jennie turned away, feeling the resentment rise inside. She watched Mr. Adams raking up the smaller branches he had pruned off the apple tree. She didn't want to be preached at. Wasn't it enough to come for the baked rolls and bread? Now someone was telling her she should be a living sacrifice!
Her mind raced back to San Francisco again and all the fun her friends were probably having even now. She could picture them running along the beach, and if the day was warm, swimming a bit in the breakers, now and then one or the other getting a good dunking. And where was she? Sitting on the Adams' porch swing, trying politely to listen to advice she didn't want to hear at all. But just what was Mrs. Adams trying to tell her?
"You could go back to San Francisco," Mrs. Adams was continuing, "but the Lord hasn't placed you there. He brought you here. Don't you see that, Jennie? You can only be happy in the path He has chosen for you." She paused. "Did you ever think that maybe He chose you out of all the others so you could reap a very special blessing?" She looked at her steadily, her dark eyes becoming serious. "You can be certain, Jennie, that the Lord has brought you here as part of His plan for your life!"