A hopeful thought would come to me, and negative ones would stomp all over it, trying to assure me that gloomy thinking was realistic and hope was a liar. I had to purposefully latch on to hope. I had to protect hope, standing firm against pessimism over and over again—for days, months, and years.
God’s love, in whatever form it shows itself, wants to give us hope.
Whenever welcomed and protected, hope joins the rhythm of our daily life, and it whispers encouragement morning, noon, and night—through every season.
I know from my own walk that if we’ll hang on to hope, it will grow stronger than despair. Hope in who He is. Hope in who we can be. Hope for our loved ones’ futures.
Hope sees what cannot be seen with human eyes. It feels what we cannot touch with our hands. And it accomplishes what cannot be possible.
From Miriam
Giving my fingers a break from the pricking needle, I sat back and admired the beautiful quilt stretched out before me. The colorful fabric pieces formed a perfect Shining Lone Star pattern. A dozen or more ladies sat around the quilt frame, stitching away as we all got better acquainted.
For years the Cumberland Valley Relief Center in Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, in cooperation with the Mennonite Central Committee, has opened its doors to many different church groups, allowing them to come together to volunteer their time for a variety of relief projects. There is a job for everyone: some quilt or knot comforters, others weave rugs or make homemade soap, and still others prepare health kits, AIDS kits, newborn-care kits, and school kits—all to be shipped to people in need.
We also help with the Mennonite Central Committee’s meat-canning ministry, which has been providing food to hungry people for the past sixty-two years. Every year people in approximately thirty-eight locations across the United States and Canada can high-quality meats to ship to at least twenty-two countries. These shipments, along with other kinds of material aid, provide significant help for the poor.
When the traveling cannery comes to the Chambersburg area for a week’s worth of canning, the churches come together. Fresh boneless turkey thighs are cut and canned. The cans are washed, labeled, and packed for shipment. By the end of the week, forty-eight thousand pounds of meat have been packaged in 26,880 cans. The whole process is under inspection, and all volunteers are required to wear white caps and aprons or coats.
As I stood at the door of the cutting room, observing the assembly line with everyone dressed in white, I envisioned a bit of heaven on earth—people of diverse backgrounds from different church groups with varied lifestyles all coming together … working side by side for the sake of others … bringing them hope and encouragement … in honor of the same God.
KITCHEN TABLES
Part 1
Better is a dry morsel, and quietness therewith, than an house full of sacrifices with strife.
—PROVERBS 17:1
From Cindy
When our two older boys were in high school, they joined numerous extracurricular activities. My husband and I had known the busy teen years would shift how we handled our days, and we were ready to roll with the punches. But our five-year-old was caught off guard.
One evening I prepared a meal, set it on the table, and called our youngest to the table. The house was empty except for the two of us. His teenage brothers were at marching band practice, and Dad was still at work. Tyler came to the kitchen, took his plate off the table, and moved it to the island. “Lunch again, Mom?”
“No, this is dinner.”
He frowned and shook his head. “It’s not a real dinnertime unless everyone is here to sit at the table.”
“But you said you were hungry. And your brothers and dad won’t be home for another two hours.”
“I’m not hungry for food as much as I wanted us to have dinner together.” He pushed the plate back. “Can I just have an apple?”
I knew what he meant. I felt the same way.
Is it possible that when God created humans to need food, part of the plan had nothing to do with meeting physical needs? Newborns can’t feed themselves, so their first connection to Mom and Dad is warm, tasty milk filling their empty bellies while the parents snuggle with them, making eye contact, cooing or singing. Putting a high priority on that bonding time is good seed for future relationships and self-esteem.
Sometimes I wonder how emotionally distant we could become if our physical bodies didn’t require sustenance. Fortunately, adults eat two or three times a day, so we have numerous opportunities to come together and emotionally connect with those we share a life with.
From Miriam
Every year we hold an Amish school sale, auctioning off homemade items to English and Amish alike, to raise funds for the local school. To reward those who organize and survive the busy auction, we hold a lobster supper. Our friends from Massachusetts, Chuck and Carolyn, have been faithfully attending the sale and bringing fresh lobsters for the past eight years. We add steaks, baked potatoes, a salad, and some fresh fruit, and it turns out to be quite a feast.
The evening of the thirty-first annual auction, a weary group gathered around my dining room table, ready to relax and unwind. At the last minute my husband and I decided to add a few more leaves to extend the table. While we pulled on both ends at once, the runners underneath gave way. My table broke in half and crashed to the floor, spilling platters of food and cups of melted butter everywhere. One guest went sliding across the floor, nearly falling in a puddle of butter.
I just stood there, watching the chaotic scene around me, too stunned and embarrassed to move. Finally getting down on all fours to retrieve a runaway potato, I came face to face with my husband, who was going after the lobster. Daniel looked at me and said, “Monday morning you go to Zimmerman’s Furniture and buy a new table.”
Suddenly my humiliation turned to excitement. My old table had been giving me grief for a long time, and the prospect of owning a new one was thrilling.
The right word spoken at the right moment can turn a negative situation into a positive one. When our perspective of an event changes, our attitudes change as well, even if the circumstances remain the same. After the table had been temporarily put back together and I was helping my guests find their places again, I felt blessed for our time around the table. Even a broken one. Even in the midst of all the chaos. Somehow those pieces of wood had managed to knit us all together.
THE WAITING GAME
But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.
—JAMES 1:4
From Amanda (Miriam’s daughter)
The week before Christmas, snow fell outside, and the windows creaked and groaned from the wind. Inside, the fireplace shed a warm glow across the floor and set to shimmering the shiny wrapping paper on the many gifts stacked beside me. I had just finished wrapping the last one and added a small green bow.
As I looked at all the packages, my eye caught a middle-sized one wrapped in blue paper. Mom had wrapped it, and I knew it was mine. Suddenly I could hardly wait for Christmas! I eagerly anticipated the day when my whole family would get together to exchange gifts, sing holiday songs, and enjoy family fellowship.
Clasping my hands in front of me, I envisioned my siblings’ smiling faces as they peeled back the last of the paper, revealing their gifts inside. Excitement surged through me at the thought of my own blue box.
Then I thought about Christmas being Jesus’s birthday. There I was, surrounded by packages, bags, and boxes full of beautiful and useful items, but none were addressed to Him.
I bowed my head and breathed, What can I give You for Christmas, Lord?
In a whisper as quiet as the falling snow, I heard Him say, Your heart.
From Cindy
My dad didn’t believe in bribing his children into good behavior. We were to tell the truth, work hard, and keep our mouths shut at all the appropriate times simply because those were the right things to do. And with a no-nonsense dad like mine,
we did.
The only time he seemed to have no qualms about offering incentives was during vacations.
At least once each year, we traveled from Maryland to Big Mama and Big Daddy’s home in Glencoe, Alabama. If we four kids could make it to a key spot of the sixteen-hour trip without a break, he’d stop at a specific roadside stand and buy each of us one thing we wanted. The budget was one dollar per person, but Dad would cover the tax. He even allowed items slightly over a dollar.
We each got the same treat every time. My sister wanted orange slices. My oldest brother wanted saltwater taffy. My other brother wanted a pecan roll. And I wanted one of those adjustable rings.
After traveling for what seemed like forever, I’d see him look at his watch, then in the rearview mirror. “We’ve got about two more hours. How’s it going back there?”
Oh how I could have used a restroom, a cup of water, and a few moments to stretch my legs. But I’d say, “I’m good. Do you think they’ll have the deep blue turquoise ones this time?”
He’d smile. “I don’t see why not.”
Once we stopped and after we all hurried to the restroom and back, Dad would stand beside me at the jewelry stand and help me pick out the ring I’d been dreaming of for a month. I loved that he helped me choose. It sealed my sense of victory, and the man behind the counter treated me with respect rather than urging me to hurry up.
Many years later I realized that Dad had figured out ahead of time just how long I, as the youngest, could comfortably go between bathroom breaks. Then he added a little time. That way he could get as far as possible, and I could feel victorious with the ring on my finger.
Those experiences taught me the power of ignoring my body’s impulses in order to attain a higher goal. I learned that I could meet a challenge and that others could benefit from my restraint. I also discovered that the sweetest part of any victory is the sense of winning against one’s own self. And that hard times go by much more quickly when hope is calling.
That was a lot to learn when all my dad wanted was to get to the destination as quickly as possible while keeping the mood light during the long trip. What lessons can your children learn if you plan something that requires them to be responsible for part of the success?
TIMELESS BEGINNINGS
WEDDINGS AND GIFTS
Whenever Miriam talks about an upcoming wedding, I know from the joy I see on her face or hear in her voice that marriage is a time of great celebration for the Amish. A wedding is a sign that a man and woman have carefully considered their future and have chosen to join the faith, marry, and raise a family in the same way they were raised. They’re ready to leave the carefree days of youth behind and take on the adult responsibilities of helping the community remain strong.
But many outside the Amish community wonder how couples find each other. Do they date? Do they have to find someone within their district? within their faith?
To some extent it begins with rumschpringe (pronounced room-shpring’-uh), the Pennsylvania Dutch word for “running around.” Rumschpringe provides a bridge between childhood and adulthood by giving Amish young people extra freedoms and the opportunity to decide if they’re going to join the faith and also to find a spouse. It usually begins around sixteen years old, and although there isn’t an exact time for it to end, parents encourage their children to make a decision about the Amish faith by their early twenties.
But good parenting doesn’t end when young people enter their rumschpringe. I was staying with an Old Order Amish friend a few years ago when an Amish holiday rolled around. Everyone had the day off, and the parents did their best to provide an outlet for the teens to get together and have fun among plenty of chaperones. The parents chipped in and bought pizza and drinks. Since it was pouring rain, they set up volleyball nets inside a warehouse-type building.
This is typical of the Old Order Amish. The parents want to offer freedom and fun for their young people as well as a safe, controlled environment. One provision the adults make for the young people is to schedule singings every Sunday night at an adult’s home or barn, with a church leader or parent facilitating. The boys sit on one side of a long table, and the girls sit on the other. A church leader or one of the older singles usually begins the song—often an upbeat worship song from the German hymnal—and others will join in. Occasionally someone will sing a song that he or she composed, and others will sing along as they learn the tune and lyrics. After the singing the young men and women socialize over desserts and cold beverages in hot weather and hot beverages in cold weather.
The young people may attend singings in any district they wish, and sometimes adults will organize a singing for an entire region. Parents also host a lot of other youth gatherings: volleyball games, cookouts, bonfires, all with plenty of desserts and beverages. In the winter several parents may work together to host several districts of youth at one of their homes and play games such as Dutch Blitz, Ping-Pong, or a fast-paced card game that is sure to rattle the windows with laughs and howls.
When an Amish couple falls in love, they have a few obstacles to overcome before they can marry. Each must join the faith if they have not done so already. And to do this, they must go through several months of instruction classes on church Sundays, starting in late spring. The bishop or a church leader teaches these classes, and he covers the principles, doctrines, and scriptures that help the young person understand the commitment he or she is making to Christ, the community, and the Amish way of life.
A couple is officially engaged when they announce it to family or friends, but the next obstacle is waiting for the wedding season, in autumn. Most become engaged in the spring so they have time to prepare for a wedding in the fall. In early autumn the groom will go to the bishop and seek his blessing. Even though the parents know about the couple’s plans by this point, the groom will also ask the girl’s father for his approval and blessing.
The couple will then be “published,” which means that the bishop or a minister will announce it during a church service, and then someone within the community will place their names and the date of their wedding in an Amish newspaper—either The Budget or Die Botschaft, which means “the message.” A couple is usually published in late October.
Although many within the community help prepare for the wedding, most of the responsibility falls on the bride and her family. Since the Amish don’t have church buildings, weddings most often take place on property belonging to the bride’s parents. If the parents can’t accommodate the guests, the wedding may take place at the home of a close relative.
Using the same color fabric, the bride and her mother make dresses for the bride and all the women and girls in her immediate family. The groom’s mother makes matching dresses for the women in her family. Both mothers make white shirts and, if necessary, black suits for the men. The bride’s mother provides two meals on the day of the wedding: a dinner and a supper. But the family has already spent a lot of time preparing for this day, having planted lots of extra vegetables to serve on the wedding day and to stock the new couple’s pantry with plenty of canned goods.
The traditional Amish wedding ceremony doesn’t have flowers, but the groom usually sends a bouquet of roses to his fiancée’s home the morning of the wedding.
Because singing is such an integral part of the couple’s meeting and courting, the Amish enjoy long periods of group singing on the day of the wedding. They usually sing German wedding songs as well as a few Amish favorites of the bride and groom.
Amish couples don’t register for gifts at stores, as many non-Amish brides do, and there is no bridal shower. Instead, the Amish have two main ways to give gifts: at the wedding ceremony or when the couple visits the homes of family and friends sometime after the ceremony.
Gifts may include nonelectric kitchenware, quilts, canned goods, towels, an outdoor gas grill, a porch swing, a drying rack for clothes, garden or shop tools, or even an express wagon (much like our children’s wagons, only larger a
nd nicer with rubber tires and removable racks). They’re great for walking a load of items to a neighbor’s house. When Miriam’s oldest son married, she gave the young couple several gifts, but the one I found the most fascinating was a feed scoop. She filled it with a homemade trail mix that looked like horse feed. After the big meal was over and the singing began, Miriam set the scoop on a table. The young people had a great time passing it around and taking a handful of “horse feed.”
Following the wedding, the bride and groom spend a day or two helping to clean up. After accommodating from two hundred to five hundred people in an Amish home, the host has loads of kitchen towels, cloth napkins, and tablecloths for the women to wash in the wringer washer and hang on the line—not to mention all the clothes that became dirty or stained during the daylong celebration. Most of the wedding guests come from within the district or nearby districts. Those who arrive by train or hired driver will often stay overnight with friends or relatives who live in the area.
The men have benches and tables to remove from the house and take to wherever church will be held the next Sunday. Furniture also has to be moved back in place from its storage area, which is often a spare bedroom or a barn.
The Amish handle this workload as they handle all of life. Everyone pitches in: the bride and her siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins as well as close friends of the family (who will themselves need help when they have a wedding in their home). The Amish may not know the saying “Pay it forward,” but they live the lifestyle.
From Miriam
This recipe is used for weddings. It’s one of the candy dishes passed around during the daylong celebration.
Plain Wisdom Page 4