And the Shofar Blew by Francine Rivers Read Free Book Online Page B

the years. Still, Eunice wanted to caution her husband. “Don’t move too fast, Paul. Wait and see the flock the Lord has given you.”

    Telephones were busy all over Centerville as word spread among the congregation that the new pastor and his wife and son had arrived safely. Over the next two days, half a dozen ladies came by with offerings of homemade goods to ease the Hudsons’ burdens as they moved in and settled in the parsonage. Even Mabel rallied and sent a disgruntled Otis with a tray of lasagna fit for the mayor. There was hardly room for it on the counter already laden with other welcome dishes of fruit salad, apple pie and peach cobbler, meat loaf, chili, pork and beans, and carrot-and-raisin salad.
    When Sunday morning rolled around, Samuel and Abigail Mason were first to arrive. Samuel offered to pass out the bulletins Paul had printed off the computer he’d set up in Hank’s old office. Abby took charge of Timmy, eager to return to her old post as Sunday school teacher. A large arrangement of flowers had been sent by Paul’s parents and placed on the altar, and candles were lit on each side.
    Eunice came down the side aisle of the sanctuary and took her seat at the piano.
    Hollis sat beside Samuel and read the bulletin. He leaned over. “Says here we should pray for our youth group.” He snorted. “What youth group?”
    “Paul hired four students from Centerville High to help him move into the parsonage. They’re all coming back Tuesday evening for a Bible study on the book of Daniel.”
    Hollis’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t say!”
    Otis leaned forward from the pew behind. “He’s wearing a suit! Why isn’t he wearing a robe like Hank always did?”
    “You can ask him when we have coffee and cookies after the service,” Mabel wheezed testily. “In the meanwhile, stop your bellyaching.”
    Otis harrumphed, sat back, and crossed his arms.
    Samuel looked around. Every church member who wasn’t in a hospital or convalescent home was in attendance. Some whispered, nodded, smiled, their eyes alight with hope for the first time in years. Others, like Otis, sat alert and searched for anything out of order, anything that might press the boundaries of tradition.
    “Well, I can say one thing for sure,” Hollis said out of the corner of his mouth, gazing at young Eunice Hudson at the piano. “She is a sight for sore eyes.”
    “And ears,” Durbin Huxley said on the other side of him.
    Elmira Huxley leaned forward. “I hear she’s already been out to visit Mitzi Pike at Vine Hill.”
    “She took roses with her,” Samuel told them softly. Abby had told Eunice that Fergus had been a high school English teacher and Mitzi won prizes at the fair for her roses. When Eunice came by the house the next morning to pick up Abby, she had a bouquet of yellow roses for Mitzi and a tape player and several tapes of classic novels for Fergus.
    “Oh, you should’ve seen Mitzi’s face, Samuel.” Abby had dabbed tears. “And Fergus . . . Eunice won their hearts before I even had a chance to introduce them.”
    Within moments, Eunice’s piano playing silenced everyone in the sanctuary. They all sat moist-eyed, listening to a beautiful medley of familiar hymns.
    Paul Hudson came up the center aisle, went up the steps, and sat in the pastor’s chair against the wall. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head while his young wife continued to play.
    Samuel studied Paul Hudson. How strange it was to see such a young man sitting in Hank Porter’s place. He prayed for the old friends scattered around the sanctuary, knowing some would see Paul Hudson as a boy to be coddled and cajoled, or controlled and commanded. A new pastor was bound to bring new ways. Lord, only one thing is important. You are Lord, our Lord. Keep us united in Spirit and in love.
    Trust wouldn’t come overnight. He hoped Paul was up there praying for wisdom as he sat in Hank’s old chair. Hank may not have lit fires in the hearts of his