Free A Little Bit of Charm by Mary Ellis Page A

available, a shot, that would take just a few minutes to administer and within weeks full immunity would be reached. I’m a registered nurse besides being a licensed social worker. I’m equipped and qualified to administer vaccines, but I would need your written consent. Then you would have no worries about your children ending up in the same circumstance.”
    The young woman rocked the swing and stared across the yard, where cows grazed and corn stood dry and tall, waiting to be cut and ground into livestock feed. Her pale blue eyes seemed focused on sights only she could see. “God will protect my kinner . He shall keep them safe. And if it be His will that we be tested by illness, we shall accept His plan for our lives.”
    â€œI am a devout Christian myself, ma’am, but I don’t believe that immunizing against viruses interferes with God’s plan.”
    Cocking her head, she raised one eyebrow. “You can speak for the Lord? Your heart knows God’s plan for people you met five minutes ago?” Again her inquiry contained no condemnation.
    Donna drew in a deep breath. She’d been warned not to get involved in theological debates and to just state scientific facts and medical probabilities, but what if those weren’t enough to convince people whose faith lay at the very center of their lives? “No, ma’am, certainly not. Perhaps you can read this brochure about the long-term effects and expense of the disease and talk the matter over with your husband.” She pulled a pamphlet from her briefcase—one that the woman made no attempt to accept. “I wrote my phone number on the back. Call me if you wish more information. I would be happy to return. There would be no cost to your family for the shots,” she added.
    The mother lifted her chin. “Money isn’t the issue here.” As though on cue, her baby began to cry. She rose, patting the child’s back. “Thank you for stopping by, Mrs. Cline, and for your concern.” Without another word she walked into the house for a feeding or a diaper change—either way the meeting was over. The older boy, who had stood like a sentinel on the other side of the porch, strode inside after her. Donna left the brochure on the rail, to be blown away with the next gust of wind.
    She had underestimated the farmer’s wife and mother of six, eight, or who knew how many. She assumed she could appeal to a maternal instinct or take some authoritative position—a personwho knew what was best for the county residents. But she had been no match for a devout person’s unflappable faith. She witnessed it personally when her mother had received a terminal cancer diagnosis. The oncologist insisted on a grueling regimen of chemo and radiation that might extend life by six months. Her mother refused, turning instead to intensive prayer. Without subjecting her body to chemical bombardment, she placed her future in God’s hands. Mom had lived another three years—a gift of spontaneous remission—and those years had been relatively pain-free. Donna wouldn’t have believed in the power of faith if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.
    But she was no preacher or faith healer. She was trained to share medical information and explain available services to area residents. Without stopping for lunch, she visited farm after farm on that road and then the next. Each response was different but the outcome remained the same.
    â€œAll my children feel fine. We have no need for your shots.”
    â€œOur district doesn’t follow English ways.”
    â€œI heard those vaccines contain bits of the virus. I won’t chance my children getting sick from the shots.”
    â€œI shall pray on the matter. Why don’t you come back next summer?”
    In two cases the homeowner listened politely and said, “No, thank you.” Then the door was shut in Donna’s face as if she were