A View from the Buggy Page 11

  “But this will be ready,” I assured her. “Just wait another five minutes. We’ll add the noodles, cooking brine or not. They’ll get soft in time.”

  “Well, we’ll know next time to start heating this earlier,” Mom said. “Let’s prepare the rest of the lunch while the brine heats up.”

  I went back to dishing out peanut butter into small bowls. Lorene put butter on paper plates. Katie dipped out the last garlic dill pickles from the large bowl and Esther set out the cookies our four neighbor ladies had each brought.

  Mom stood by the stove, now tapping her foot, obviously still nervous about the noodles. “Girls!” she finally blurted out. “I think I’ll dump the noodles in now, even if it’s not quite boiling. I can’t wait any longer.”

  “Good idea,” I encouraged her.

  At that moment, Mary, one of the married church sisters, entered the kitchen and asked, “Do you need help with anything?”

  “Am I glad to see you,” Mom said. “I need advice. This broth took so long to get hot that I put in all the noodles even though it wasn’t boiling yet.”

  “I’m sure they will be fine,” Mary hastened to say. “Bishop Omer just sat down from preaching and the other ministers still have to give their testimonies. That’ll be another twenty minutes before the service is over.”

  “I feel so encouraged.” Lorene let out a long breath.

  “So do I,” I agreed.

  “I just hope the noodles won’t be mushy,” Mary added.

  “I don’t think that will happen,” Mom said, but her eyes were big. “I’ll turn the burner off right now. And thanks for the advice.”

  “You’re welcome,” Mary said, and left to take in the rest of the service.

  “This kind of thing often happens to us,” Lorene muttered. “But I guess we can learn from our mistakes.”

  “Okay, girls,” Mom said. “What’s left for us to do yet?”

  “We have all the trays filled,” I said. “Should we wash the dishes?”

  Mom nodded and soon we had the big bowls, ladles, and scrapers. washed and dried so that they sparkled clean again. As we worked, the congregation had begun to sing the parting song. The slow rise and fall of the tune was soothing music to our ruffled minds. We began to relax and feel happy again.

  The double doors to the big room now opened as the women filed into the cloakroom and kitchen. The men were soon busy setting up tables. They did this by putting two benches together with a pair of wooden legs at both ends. The women unrolled the red and white checkered vinyl tablecloths on the 12-foot tables. We young girls set out the water glasses, food trays, bread, and silverware on all nine tables. And last of all we set the soup bowls at each place setting.

  “You can go sit down to eat,” Mom went around telling the ladies, while at the same time Dad seated the men. Out in the kitchen we girls ladled hot noodles into china serving bowls. After the prayer at the tables, we served the noodles steaming hot, with two bowls to each table. The noodles sure smelled delicious.

  I was kept busy filling coffeepots while Lorene refilled the teacups with peppermint tea. Esther and Katie made sure the peanut butter spread, pickle bowls, and water glasses were kept full.

  People visited as they ate, which created quite a din with so many talking at once. We soon passed out a cookie tray to each table. What a nice selection of cookies there were: marshmallow brownies, peanut butter bars, and chocolate chip cookies. There was also banana sheet cake. Tea was passed around again now that the cookies had been served. Then Dad told Bishop Omer that everyone had finished eating.

  “If we’re done eating, let’s pray,” Bishop Omer shouted above the din. An immediate hush fell over the room as everyone bowed for a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

  Following the prayer, I asked Lorene, “Can you help me fill the dishwashing tubs with water?”

  “Sure!” she said, and we hurried to the sink. What a bustle of people there were as the women all helped clear the tables and scrape together the leftover food. Within the hour everything was cleaned up and everyone settled down for another hour or so of fellowship before they left for home.

  “Thank you for the good lunch!” the women told us as they put on their black shawls and bonnets to leave. “The noodles were a very special treat on such a cold winter day.”

  “I guess serving noodles turned out okay after all,” Mom told us girls when the house was empty. “No one knew the anxious moments we had.”

  “I think it was rewarding to serve noodles,” I agreed. “And now I’m off to visit friends for the afternoon.”

  I bundled up to join the other girls down at Melvin’s place. We would eat popcorn, play games, and visit until it was time for the youth singing that evening back at our place. Lorene soon joined me and together we walked out the door and down the road.

  Can We Go to Law?

  Levi F. Miller

  But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also (Matthew 5:39).

  WOULD YOU PLEASE STEP OUTSIDE WITH ME?” MY SON ASKED SOON after we had returned home from the funeral of one of the older bishops in our community. I had noticed his buggy and horse tied to the hitching pole, and wondered what had brought him to our home this close to chore time.

  A troubled look was in his eyes, and a strange foreboding passed though me. He found his voice and said, “Six of our cows were stolen today.”

  “What!” I exclaimed. “Six cows!”

  Having only been married a few years, my son and his wife were just getting their start in farming. They had purchased a small farm with an even smaller barn, and they were making mortgage payments on a regular basis from income that came exclusively from milking cows and raising a few hogs, sheep, and chickens.

  The cows were of course the most important part, as the milk check paid the bulk of their monthly farm payment.

  My son said he had arrived home from the funeral to notice tire tracks leading to the barn door. As it had been a chilly early spring day, the cows had been left in the barn. My son had pushed open the barn door to stare in disbelief at three cows instead of the nine he owned. Six of his best cows were gone!

  It was easy to see what had happened. A trailer had backed up to the door and the cows had been herded up the trailer ramp. They were simply gone.

  After the first shock at hearing this news, the full impulse of my human nature gripped me. We must get those cows back! I thought. How can payment be made without the milk check? What milk will fill the empty cans tonight?

  Next, the questions arose: Why would someone want to steal a young farmer’s cows? Did he have any known or unknown enemies? What cattle dealer knew of this out-of-the-way farm?

  My son’s place has a long driveway and could not be seen from the main road. He told me he had no known enemies, and had very little to do with any cattle dealers, except one local man who had worked with the Amish in the community for many years. My son had been feeding steers for him, and that very day the dealer had picked them up, as had been planned. Few others visited his farm.

  So would this dealer have returned later in the day to back up to the barn and load six cows? The man would have known my son and his wife were at the funeral. But this possibility was mind-boggling.

  Of course, we shouldn’t have been so ready to jump to a conclusion because things aren’t always as they appear. But my son had the phone number of the cattle dealer and went to the neighbor’s to call, hoping to ask the man some questions. But no one answered the phone. Which we had half-expected, thinking him guilty already.

  Our next move was to contact the local auction barns. After contacting the first one, they informed us that our man had not been there, nor had six cows come in. Contacting the next auction barn, they also told us our man hadn’t been at the sale, but six cows had come in that fit our description of the lost cows. But here the manager suddenly was on his guard.

  “What’s up?” he as
ked.

  After we explained our difficult situation he told us, “I believe these might have been your cows we sold today, but our sale barn policy is that we cannot give out information except to the police or other law officers. Please contact them immediately, and we will give them all we know.”

  Now we were in a more difficult situation. Our belief in nonresistance was severely put to the test.

  In the end we contacted the sheriff, who told us he would be out to the farm shortly. By now the evening was dark. I rode home with my son to his farm, both of us heavyhearted. Soon headlights gleamed and probed the darkness as a shiny patrol car entered the driveway. A heavyset, curt law officer stepped from the vehicle. After his preliminary inquiries, we explained the situation. He informed us he could do nothing to help us or even look at the situation unless we signed papers that would allow him or the law enforcement agency to take action, investigate, convict the guilty person, and bring him to court—and also find the whereabouts and value of the stolen cattle from the auction company.

  We realized the situation was much more complex than we had first thought. Our home bishop lived close by, so the sheriff allowed me to ride with him to the bishop’s home for advice. After talking things over, we agreed to not sign any papers before getting more opinions from community leaders. So the sheriff left the scene.

  After a day or two of recollections, a witness came forward who had seen not only the usual cattle dealer’s truck and trailer going in our son’s driveway, but also the truck and trailer of another cattle hauler. This was a young man, one who had for some time been on the milk hauling route and was acquainted with every driveway and barn among the community. He had lately taken up a job of hauling livestock. He also was always short on money. And this young man knew of the upcoming funeral and had even made inquiries as to who would be in attendance.

  With great relief we now discarded the thought of our usual cattle dealer being at fault. We also traveled to the auction barn where the cows had been sold and personally spoke with the sales manager. He repeated his story, “I’d love to tell you where your cows went, but I can’t. Just tell the sheriff, and we will gladly work with him.”

  But the elders of the church had agreed in the meantime that no one would sign any papers to regain stolen property or to prosecute an enemy.

  In the meantime the young cattle hauler showed up at an Amish farmer’s place and paid his considerable debt. So he must have been both brazen and honest. After that, we never saw the young cattle hauler again. We hope he may have repented of his ways.

  We did find out that two Amish men from a neighboring district had been at the auction barn the day my son’s cows were stolen and had purchased three cows that matched the descriptions. They sent word to my son that he could buy them back, which he did at a reasonable price. He also bought a few more cows from a local dairy with money loaned to him by his grandfather. The church also helped, which was greatly appreciated. Gradually my son regained what had been lost.

  With God’s help we tried to make the best choices, and trust we handled the situation in the proper way.

  Special Days in My Life

  Lori Miller

  And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them (Matthew 18:2).

  EVERY YEAR MY AUNTS AND COUSINS COME TOGETHER FOR A DAY OF playing games and doing fun things together. This one day we went to my Aunt Joanna’s place. She has five children, our cousins.

  On our way there we had stopped at the public library and a few other stores for some shopping. When we arrived, Joanna and her children had set up games for us to play. We lined up in two rows with the youngest first and the oldest last. The youngest person had to get one thing out of a bag, put it on, and then quickly pull it off again. The second person had to put on two things and pull them off again. And so it went, until the team who finished first won the race.

  When lunchtime came, the aunts had prepared a delicious meal of chicken sandwiches, French fries, and drinks. We ate outside under the trees where there was a nice picnic area with a table and a little playhouse.

  After lunch we had a scavenger hunt with two teams. We had to go find things like a leaf or some other interesting object. We followed that up with placing tables together and putting bowls on top of the table with something under them. Then everyone had to name what was under them. The one with most correct guesses won.

  Later we played a game where we hung a blanket between two trees with a team on each side. We stood in a row and as soon as the blanket was let down, the one in the front of the line had to say the name of the person facing them. Whoever said the name first won and the loser had to join the other team.

  At the end of the day we played tug-of-war, where even the big people helped. Later some of us schoolchildren played our own kind of tug-of-war. Two people stood on a five gallon pail. Then we pulled, and the person left standing on the pail won.

  Finally our day drew to a close. We went home loaded with candy and happy memories. Even though this happens only once a year, that doesn’t mean we don’t get together at other times too. Sometimes we come together for workdays at the homes of different people who need help with a project like cleaning their home or making carpet rugs.

  We once went to my Aunt Julia’s house to help them get ready for the next Sunday church services. Usually that means cleaning the whole house, plus work outside on the flowerbeds and the lawn.

  On another Sunday evening we all got together for a birthday party. It was for my aunt’s fiftieth birthday. When we arrived at the place, my aunt wasn’t there. This had been planned, as my aunt knew there was going to be a party, but she didn’t know the whole family would be there.

  When my aunt was due to arrive, we hid behind the building where she couldn’t see us. We waited until she was in the yard before we surprised her. That was a lot of fun. And we had plenty to eat afterward. Later, we played outside games with our cousins.

  Thanksgiving a year ago was at my grandpa and grandma’s home. My cousins who don’t live around here were also there. After the Thanksgiving meal we played Dictionary and Catch-a-phrase. All afternoon there were delicious snacks spread on the kitchen table.

  We live on a farm, and that day Dad offered to return home to do the chores while we stayed. I appreciated that. As night fell we played Gray Wolf outside, which is also lots of fun.

  Another fun day I had was when some of the people from the community got together for a farewell party. We rented a cabin not too far away. It was located beside a pond so we could go swimming and boating. That evening we cooked supper over an open fire. Afterward we played volleyball and sat talking around the campfire. Some people slept in the cabins but most of us slept outside under the stars.

  The next morning we cooked our breakfast over the fire again. We eventually had to leave and life began again. I like it when everyone gets together and does their part so we can have a good time.

  Outreach

  Louie Weaver

  But ye, brethren, be not weary in well doing (2 Thessalonians 3:13).

  I SLEEPILY WALKED DOWN THE CREAKING STEPS OF OUR OLD farmhouse. It just didn’t seem like it was already time to get up. Not this early on a Saturday morning. I felt my way through the darkened kitchen to light the gas lamps.

  After washing my face and combing my hair, I checked to see if my little brother Paul was up yet. He wasn’t, so I shook him awake. We couldn’t sleep in on this brisk fall morning, not with one of the neighbors needing help with the remodel on his house. And Paul would be disappointed if he couldn’t go along.

  With both of us awake we started getting ready for the day. We ate a simple breakfast of fried eggs and toast, and as we buttoned on our plain black suspenders, I checked the lunch Mom had packed for us the night before.

  Our destination was another Amish community some 20 miles away that our church had helped start. Five families from our community had chosen to move there. They were now busy gettin
g their newly purchased property and houses ready for Amish living. All of them had remodeling projects in progress, such as installing gas lights and anything else that goes with moving into a formerly English home.

  This was a community effort and we had volunteered to help. Even though neither Paul nor I were experienced carpenters, we could still lend our hands. Since 20 miles was too far to drive our faithful horse and buggy, we planned to ride this morning with an Amish neighbor who had hired a driver.

  That van soon pulled in our driveway and we grabbed our hats, tools, and lunches and bounded out the door. We found the van nearly filled with other eager workers and the things they had brought along. All of us were from our close-knit community. The 20-minute ride was quiet, save for a few comments as everyone enjoyed the peaceful countryside passing outside the van windows. This early in the morning the land was still wrapped in fog and looked like it was awakening slowly.

  We soon arrived and very quickly the sounds of busy workmen filled the air. There would be no idle hands today. The house was old and hadn’t been lived in for some time, so considerable work needed to be done before the family could move in. Our main job for the day was knocking out walls to turn several small rooms into a larger dining and living room. I was glad the job didn’t require skills from me above the ability to beat down the right walls and haul trash to the dumpster parked outside the house.

  As we worked, we chatted above the sound of hammers and saws. All of us were glad for the opportunity to spend time with one another and catch up on community news. Occasional snatches of tunes could be heard as someone raised their voice in joyful song. But for the most part, our efforts focused on the job at hand.

  It seemed as if only a moment had passed before lunchtime was announced. Our tools fell silent as we eagerly washed our hands and grabbed our lunches. We sat outside on the grass to soak up the beautiful fall sunshine. After a silent prayer we got busy eating. Our brisk exercise had made me hungrier than I had realized. The sandwich and homemade pie Mom had packed for lunch was the very thing I needed to hush the growling in my stomach. And to our added delight, one of the crew had brought along a tube of trail bologna. This was now generously passed around the circle of men so each could have a taste.