her.
Ben paced outside the building in an attempt to calm Molly. A woman would know what to do, he ruled. Ridiculous. No woman knew his Molly the way he did. She was simply going through a persnickety stage, as he’d heard one woman refer to these cranky times, and no amount of fussing by any woman would change that fact. Still, the notion that two heads were better than one came to mind and stuck there.
“God, what would You have me do?” he muttered heavenward, mopping his wet brow as he marched about. Seeing a shady oak tree to stand under, he made for the spot while talking in low tones to Molly.
Life was anything but easy these days with the farm chores never ending, the housework mounting, those feelings of failure as a single parent spiraling, and now the pressure to finish the cabin. He was only one man. How was he supposed to pull it all together?
“Be still and know that I am God…” The familiar verse of Scripture buried itself in his consciousness, and he thanked his heavenly Father for the gentle reminder. Still, it didn’t solve the problem of Molly’s hysteria and his own sense of helplessness.
“Peace I leave with you…” Another wonderful reminder of God’s faithfulness and ability to care for his needs if he would simply let them all go into His hands. Easier said than done, he ruled, as he sat down and then leaned against the aged oak’s trunk.
At long last, Molly settled into his chest and heaved a couple of long, deep sighs. He suspected she’d slept as restlessly as he had last night. “Feeling better?” he asked in a gentle tone, rubbing her soft cheek with his callused hand. As if in answer she looked up at him and managed a weak smile. “Now you decide to smile,” he said with a chuckle. “What got into you?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket for a handkerchief with which to wipe her eyes and runny nose. Pulling it out, he also pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. After wiping her face, he unwrapped the piece of paper to study its contents.
Marriage Made in Heaven Agency
It was the classified ad he’d run across in the post office a couple of weeks ago. Was it some kind of sign from God that he’d drawn it from his pocket in the churchyard? He studied the ad again, noting each woman’s name with particular care and then her individual specifications. Specifications seemed an odd word to use in describing each woman’s character, rather like searching out a prize horse.
Each one of these women claimed to be God-fearing, even going so far as to describe briefly their testimonies of faith, although the space given them to do so was sorely lacking.
Molly crawled off his lap and began to toddle around the tree, bending to pick up a small stick and then tossing it back in favor of a different one. Ben watched her momentarily and then went back to the advertisement.
The name Sarah Woodward cemented itself in his mind. He’d studied each entry carefully and always his eyes traveled back to hers.
My name is Sarah Woodward. I am a fine, upstanding Christian woman looking for a Christian man with whom to build a home. I am an enthusiastic person who is not afraid of work. I dearly love children. I stand five feet six inches tall, and am what you would call fine-boned, aptly filled out, and well bred. I have red hair that people often refer to as flaming and blue-green eyes, better known as hazel, I suppose.
I enjoy housekeeping duties and am an especially excellent cook. I shall do my best to make some Christian man a fine wife.
**Please contact this agency at the above noted address for further information. Any one of these women will be happy to correspond prior to making traveling arrangements. All impending costs will be the responsibility of the prospective groom.
Ben folded the paper neatly and put it back into his pocket. What was he doing by holding on to this silly advertisement? Did he actually think that sending for a bride was a workable solution? On the
Ben paced outside the building in an attempt to calm Molly. A woman would know what to do, he ruled. Ridiculous. No woman knew his Molly the way he did. She was simply going through a persnickety stage, as he’d heard one woman refer to these cranky times, and no amount of fussing by any woman would change that fact. Still, the notion that two heads were better than one came to mind and stuck there.
“God, what would You have me do?” he muttered heavenward, mopping his wet brow as he marched about. Seeing a shady oak tree to stand under, he made for the spot while talking in low tones to Molly.
Life was anything but easy these days with the farm chores never ending, the housework mounting, those feelings of failure as a single parent spiraling, and now the pressure to finish the cabin. He was only one man. How was he supposed to pull it all together?
“Be still and know that I am God…” The familiar verse of Scripture buried itself in his consciousness, and he thanked his heavenly Father for the gentle reminder. Still, it didn’t solve the problem of Molly’s hysteria and his own sense of helplessness.
“Peace I leave with you…” Another wonderful reminder of God’s faithfulness and ability to care for his needs if he would simply let them all go into His hands. Easier said than done, he ruled, as he sat down and then leaned against the aged oak’s trunk.
At long last, Molly settled into his chest and heaved a couple of long, deep sighs. He suspected she’d slept as restlessly as he had last night. “Feeling better?” he asked in a gentle tone, rubbing her soft cheek with his callused hand. As if in answer she looked up at him and managed a weak smile. “Now you decide to smile,” he said with a chuckle. “What got into you?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket for a handkerchief with which to wipe her eyes and runny nose. Pulling it out, he also pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. After wiping her face, he unwrapped the piece of paper to study its contents.
Marriage Made in Heaven Agency
It was the classified ad he’d run across in the post office a couple of weeks ago. Was it some kind of sign from God that he’d drawn it from his pocket in the churchyard? He studied the ad again, noting each woman’s name with particular care and then her individual specifications. Specifications seemed an odd word to use in describing each woman’s character, rather like searching out a prize horse.
Each one of these women claimed to be God-fearing, even going so far as to describe briefly their testimonies of faith, although the space given them to do so was sorely lacking.
Molly crawled off his lap and began to toddle around the tree, bending to pick up a small stick and then tossing it back in favor of a different one. Ben watched her momentarily and then went back to the advertisement.
The name Sarah Woodward cemented itself in his mind. He’d studied each entry carefully and always his eyes traveled back to hers.
My name is Sarah Woodward. I am a fine, upstanding Christian woman looking for a Christian man with whom to build a home. I am an enthusiastic person who is not afraid of work. I dearly love children. I stand five feet six inches tall, and am what you would call fine-boned, aptly filled out, and well bred. I have red hair that people often refer to as flaming and blue-green eyes, better known as hazel, I suppose.
I enjoy housekeeping duties and am an especially excellent cook. I shall do my best to make some Christian man a fine wife.
**Please contact this agency at the above noted address for further information. Any one of these women will be happy to correspond prior to making traveling arrangements. All impending costs will be the responsibility of the prospective groom.
Ben folded the paper neatly and put it back into his pocket. What was he doing by holding on to this silly advertisement? Did he actually think that sending for a bride was a workable solution? On the
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