2S9
August 1943
4
and I dared not fail Him; I was sure that Louetta knew that she would hot recover. I had seen the shadow of that knowledge deep in her eyes and I thought fear showed there, too. I start ed by telling them of God’s great gift to us. I spoke briefly on John 3:16 and finished with a verse that had meant much to me in my own salvation, “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God.” The last few words of the verse al most stuck in my throat as I saw the cold, stony expression on Louetta’s face. I went home feeling tired and defeated. Why would she not listen? Her life was ebbing quickly. Would she go out unrepentant? What could I say that would reach her? “Oh, God,” I prayed, “I have given Thy Word to her and she w ill not listen. Touch her heart—cut through that icy indiffer ence and bring her to repentance.” I heard the back door slam as I finished that desperate petition, and Ruth ran into the kitchen. “Oh, Mrs. Annas,” she cried, pointing to the Bible which Was open in her hand. “Here it is, here it is. I opened my Bible and here it is. ‘For by grace aTe ye saved.’ I see the whole thing, now; I see it, I believe on the Lord Jesus Christ as my Saviour.” With this she dropped the Bible on the table and threw her arms around my neck, burying her. head in my shoulder while heavy sobs shook her. “Oh, I have been so blind,” she whis pered a while later. “Louetta and I have attended church all our lives. We sang in the church choir at home, but we were not saved. I have never seen it before. I’m so thankful you told us. I am so grateful to God for giving me this opportunity to hear and to know Him. Won’t you come over and talk to Louetta again? She hasn’t listened, I know, but she must not die until she has acccepted Him.” With a heart lifted in praise for Ruth’s conversion, I went in to plead with her dying sister once more. But again it seemed I was just talking to a stone. Her face was cold and my heart froze at the realization that this young girl, strangely hardened for one but twenty years old, was going out into the unknown without Christ. I couldn’t stand it. But God is long-suffering and would not that any should perish, and He was not «through with my ministry to that lost child. It was about two o’clock the next morning when Ruth awakened me. “Oh, Mrs. Annas, can you1come? Louetta is dying,” she sobbed. When I entered the sick room, I saw that Louetta’s brother was there. I knew from what Ruth had told me that he was a skeptic, that he did not f Continued on Page 317]
Grant asked and I thought I saw fear stir in her. eyes. “ I know she is,” I replied quietly. “I am a nurse,” I added, “and I saw she was ill the moment I looked into her face.” I had seen the pulse beat ing in the girl’s throat and I knew she was very sick, indeed. “We haven’t been in California long and I know no doctor. I’ve been wor ried about Louetta. Would you call a doctor for me?” “ Indeed I will,” I assured her' and hurried home to call my own doctor. .* * * I was waiting for him when he came out of the bedroom where I had put Louetta to bed. “How is she, doctor?” “Mrs. Annas,” he answered gravely, “there is absolutely no hope yvhatever. If that child lives three days I’ll be surprised—at tha, most she can’t live but a week.” I was startled—and yet I think I had sensed when I first saw her that she stood on the edge of eternity. I re membered my unwillingness to rent to her parents, my vexation because they W inning had moved in a day early, and I felt rebuked. “Forgive me, Lord,” I whis pered. “ If You have sent this child here for me to speak to, give me the wisdom to deal with her—the right words to say.” , * But it seemed almost as though my prayer had gone unanswered. I visited Louetta daily, helping with the nurs ing, hoping to show my love in that way and to gain her confidehce. I was between cases and could spare the time. The burden for her was heavy, yet I looked into her lovely young face, knowing that she. was going to die, and I felt tongue-tied. It was not that I did not know how to bring the mes sage of salvation. For some unaccount able reason, I could find iio approach. “What is the matter with me?” I asked myself a Tittle angrily. “Why can’t I tell this young girl the most impor tant thing in all life When her life is to be so short?” The one time I had tried by asking her, point-blank, if she knew the Lord Jesus Christ as her. Saviour, had ended in defeat with her displeasure making it' impossible for me to go .on. . , . Mrs. Grant and her other daughter, Ruth, were in Louetta’s room when I went in one morning, determined that I must speak. I would have preferred to be alone with1Louetta but it seemed to me that God’s voice said, “now,”
had paused in their scrubbing, as I had sat lost in thought and thankful ness over the memory of the Lord’s working in that man’s heart I resumed my work quickly, for I would have to hurry if I had the house ready for rental before people came to see it. I liked this little house, almost as well as my own just next door. I hoped we would get‘good renters. Footsteps on the front porch startled me and I hurried to the door. The cou ple that stood, there had that curious, examining look of those who are try ing to visualize a house as their home. “Oh, dear,”. I murmured to myself. “I wanted renters, but not just yet. I’m not half through. I ' did want to get those cupboards painted.” But I hid my annoyance and showed them in, secretly hoping they would not like the place. I didn’t like their looks and when they objected to the price* I was glad! They drove off and I returned to my cleaning. Within an hour they were back and Said they would take the house. My heart sank a little. They were obvi- . . . in Soul •ously worldly people. She looked the enameled, dressed-up-doll type of per son. I didn’t want to rent to them. But 1 could hardly say “No”. The agreement wag made and they arranged to move in on Monday. Sunday afternoon we were returning from Burbank. As we turned in at our driveway I saw, to my astonishment, that our tenants already had moved in. I wondered if they did everything like that. “I’ll go over and say, ‘hello’ and get it over with,” I said to my husband, grimacing a little. His good-natured laughter soothed my. ruffled spirits and I was smiling when I reached the other house. Mrs. Grant and her daughter were sitting in the porch swing. I remem bered, then, that I had noticed two' girls -in the car, the day I rented the house, and that Mrs. Grant had,said she had two girls and one boy. The daughter excused herself and went in side after she had’greeted me. I stood still for a moment, looking after her. My nurse’s training made me instantly aware that this young girl was desper ately ill. “ I didn’t know, your daughter was ill," I remarked as I seated myself in the swing. “Do you think she is very sick?" Mrs.
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