One day, when a number of dead bodies from a wreck had been washed ashore in the fjord, Alma said:
“Sometimes I can’t help thinking that mankind, for all the limitation of our powers, could manage some things more justly at least than Providence seems to do.”
“Never speak like that,” said old Kata warningly. “Think of the Scriptures. ’Tis God’s finger guiding all.”
“Oh, I know it’s a blessed thing to have faith in time of trouble. And as long as it’s only oneself.... But when something dreadful happens to others, and there seems no sense nor reason for it all, then one can’t help asking, why, what is it all for? Surely one might think that a heavenly providence would be kind, and work for our good.”
“Ay, ’tis strange to think, no doubt,” answered Kata. “And there’s times when it’s hard to answer such things. But God is God.”
This last expression was a constant formula in Kata’s mouth, which to herself at least seemed to dispose of the most difficult problem.
Alma ventured to put a direct question.
“Have you never felt yourself, sometime, that you didn’t really want to say ‘God’s will be done’?”
“Now you’re asking me something,” said Kata, “and something I’d not answer to any but yourself.”
The spinning-wheel stopped, and Kata paused; not a word was uttered for some moments. At last the old woman went on: