Free Though None Go with Me by Jerry B. Jenkins

of doing the supper kitchen work during or after the evening meeting, so they could attend if they chose. She had to decide whether to be available for the meeting or for a little time with Ben after that. She decided to talk it over with him.
    Elisabeth found Ben out front of the administrative offices, readying his staff to greet the new campers, more than a hundred boys from age eight to ten. “My favorite week,” he said.
    She smiled. “I came to ask about my schedule.”
    â€œI’m glad you did. This week’s pianist is ill and not coming. Could you fill in?”
    Elisabeth was to play three times each day, including for the evening service. She would still be expected to do everything else assigned to her.
    The only sliver in her schedule came after the evening service and her kitchen work. Assuming the meeting was over by eight and her work by ten, that might give her more than an hour with Ben. But she also had to rise long before breakfast.
    Elisabeth wished she was bold enough to ask Ben straight out, “So when will I see you?” Rather, she said, “That doesn’t seem to leave much time for anything else.”
    â€œIt sure doesn’t,” he said, looking past her to a cloud of dust boiling up from the gravel half a mile away. “Here come the first of them. We’ll have to play the schedule by ear.”
    Elisabeth had lost his attention, but she understood. He was a man of priorities and commitment and conviction. But as she set about her chores, she allowed herself to wonder if he had charmed her last week merely to enlist her help for the rest of the summer.
    By the evening meeting, Elisabeth could not imagine working from six in the morning until ten at night for six weeks. Only love could motivate her, and if it had to be her love for God rather than for Ben, so be it.
    There would be no practicing the piano. She would have just enough time to splash her face with water and change her clothes before playing songs by sight from the hymnal. Exhausted, she sat at the bench grateful that Mrs. Stonerock had taught her well. Elisabeth dozed during the prayer. She wished she could slip into the kitchen to get her work done once the singing was over, but she was expected to play for the final song too. She couldn’t leave and come back sweaty.
    The boys filled every chair in the auditorium, so she had to sit on the piano bench with no back support, wishing all the while she was back in her cabin, stretched out on her bed.
    Elisabeth was quickly transported, however, when Ben went from master of ceremonies to soloist and then speaker. Elisabeth was stunned at his ability to communicate with young boys as easily and powerfully as he had the high schoolers from the week before. He was funny and engaging, yet challenging. He had the boys’ attention and they seemed to love him.
    Until the closing prayer she forgot her fatigue and the work that still lay ahead. She felt privileged to be there, impressed anew with the spiritual side of Ben, and eager to see him later, if only for a few minutes. She marshaled enthusiasm for the last song, then hurried back to her cabin to change and then down to the dining hall and into the kitchen. The giant pots and pans, the massive stoves and ovens looked even more enormous in the otherwise empty kitchen.
    Peeved that the crew had left her more than her assigned duties, Elisabeth felt obligated to leave the place ready for breakfast preparation. As she did her work and that of at least two others, she rehearsed how she would state her case the next morning. “I’m warning you,” she said silently, “I will do only my work from now on. If the place is not shipshape for breakfast, don’t blame me.”
    Her back ached as she mopped the floor, and it seemed as if Christ himself spoke to her heart. For whom are you working?
    â€œNot for everyone else,” she said. “Never again.”
    The question came