Lizzie Searches for Love Trilogy

by Linda Byler

  Dat was always the same at wedding time. He loved it, thriving on the action and the attention from relatives on both sides, but most of all, he loved the singing. He would always lead quite a few songs on the day his daughters were married, just for the pure joy of “getting the singing going real well.”

  Mam and Lizzie hardly argued or disagreed on anything. Mam was much calmer, and Lizzie wasn’t particular about little details, like who was invited, or how many of the youth were included, or what kind of pies they served.

  Aunt Vera made mountains of date pudding at home in Ohio, bringing it all the way to Pennsylvania with buckets of whipped topping for the big day. Date pudding was Lizzie’s favorite dessert, ever since she had first tasted it as a little girl in Ohio. It was a soft, moist cake baked with dates and nuts, then cut into tiny squares and layered with a caramel sauce and whipped topping. It was rich and creamy with a nutty texture that was simply delicious. They served it on every table throughout the house, with small squares of red and green Jell-O on top, because their wedding was so close to Christmas.

  Lizzie’s room soon filled up as the remainder of the bridal party moved over from the adjoining room. During the wedding, Jason would sit with Rebecca, and Daniel would sit with Lizzie’s cousin Esther, who, along with Lizzie’s sisters and their husbands, made up the six individuals who would be the honored guests.

  “Hold still, Lizzie; I mean it,” Emma hissed around a straight pin in her mouth.

  “Get that pin out of your mouth, Emma!” Lizzie hissed back.

  Emma straightened up, giving the smooth white belt an extra pat and said, “There!”

  Lizzie stepped up to the mirror, surveying the finished attire, her eyes wide with apprehension.

  “Do … I … I … Does it look all right? Emma, you made a nice covering for my wedding day. Thank you. You are a dear. Honest.”

  “You look lovely, Lizzie, and I’m glad you like the covering, because I sure went to enough pains with it. I must have opened and redone that one side three times.”

  “Ready?” Stephen asked.

  Lizzie looked around her room wildly. “Where are the decorative throw pillows for my bed?” she asked.

  Jason produced them from behind his back, grinning, and Lizzie pounced on them, arranging them carefully, making certain everything looked just right.

  “Do we remember who goes first?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Jason said airily, and they all filed solemnly down the stairs and sat side by side with their backs against the stairway wall, as straight as stickmen on a hard wooden bench in the kitchen.

  Suddenly Lizzie thought she would be sick to her stomach from sheer nervousness. The house was already full of people, and every minute another horse and buggy or van load of people arrived. Where would they all sit? Suppose there was not enough room for everyone? Maybe this would actually be the first wedding the Amish people could remember that didn’t have enough seating space. People would talk about it for 50 years. Like the story of the bride who changed her mind at the last minute and would not join her groom to stand in front of the minister to be married. The minister asked if there was anyone else in the room who would marry this man, and the bride’s sister got up and married him, and they lived happily ever after. Was that really true? No one seemed to know who these people were, so Lizzie always doubted the story.

  Why did she sit here on her wedding day, thinking all these ridiculous thoughts? She was so nervous this minute that she felt like crying. She wished she could hold Stephen’s hand for comfort, but then she was so clammy with sweat he probably wouldn’t want to hold her hand. This was awful.

  Oh, dear, a whole load of people Lizzie had never seen before walked up to them, and she didn’t have the slightest clue who they were! She swallowed hard, glancing wildly at Stephen, but he was smiling genuinely at a tall, plump lady and greeting each strange person who shook his hand.

  Lizzie wondered what would happen if she panicked and burst through the door and ran down across the flat pasture to the fencerow by the creek and hid. Would they come looking for her? Why did she think these thoughts? She had to calm down, really seriously calm herself, and remember what day this was. Her wedding day. After today she would no longer be Lizzie Glick. It was high time people started calling her Elizabeth, now that she was a respectable married woman who combed her hair sleek and flat.

  After shaking more hands than she had ever shaken before, at least in one sitting, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself so she could smile at bustling aunts and greet her friends as they filed into the room. She began to feel comfortable enough to enjoy her wedding day.

  The singing started, which was the official signal that the ceremony was now in progress. The ministers all filed upstairs to hold conference, with Stephen and Lizzie following them. The ministers each took turns speaking to them about marriage and what was expected of them in their life together.

  As Lizzie listened, she knew that beginning with this day, she had entered into a permanent union, one rooted as deeply as the largest oak in the forest. Seasons would come and go, the heat of summer, the winds of autumn when every branch moved in the gale, the ice and snow in winter, which bent every branch to its limit, sometimes even breaking sturdy limbs, and yet she and Stephen would endure.

  When spring came, new growth would replace the broken limbs, strengthening the tree, just like their argument about the color of the bricks on their brown house had deepened their relationship.

  There was no turning back now.

  She peeped at Stephen beneath lowered lashes, overwhelmed by happiness and her faith in him. He was so serious, his tanned face so solemn, his hair shining, and cut in the proper ordnung for this day.

  All she needed to do was place her hand in his and follow him back downstairs as the singing congregation waited. He would lead her to the minister who would unite them in holy matrimony. With the singing wafting up from the house below, Lizzie felt like crying again because of the interest of these kind ministers, and well, just everything.

  When they were finished, Lizzie and Stephen filed slowly and solemnly into the living room with the rest of the bridal party, sitting across from each other on the new wooden chairs that Stephen’s grandfather had made for them in his little woodworking shop. They had been a gift from Stephen’s parents and pleased Lizzie immensely.

  Lizzie kept her head bowed demurely, her hands folded in her lap. She couldn’t look up—she didn’t dare look at Stephen—so she just looked at her lap. It felt as if hundreds of eyes were staring intently at her from every direction, so the safest thing to do was keep her head lowered.

  The singing stopped and someone chose another song—that familiar tune that had been sung at hundreds of other weddings. It was a very cozy feeling, Lizzie thought, to know that this ritual, this form of ordnung or set of rules the wedding was based on, had been the same for Mam and Dat, for Stephen’s parents, and their parents before them, and on and on for generations. That was a good and calming thing, the realization that everyone in this house knew what to expect and how to go about running this wedding.

  It certainly had not seemed very orderly yesterday. The whole house had resembled a chicken house after a fox makes an appearance. Well, that was a stretch, perhaps, but how could 10 or 15 women get anything accomplished and all talk at the same time? Because talk they did. Laughed and planned and stood in small bunches with pieces of paper, writing down who did what, and who was seated where, and how many platters of chicken and filling went on which table, and on and on.

  Sometimes Mam got a little snorty if the rules were a bit stringent, and she would shake her head and say, Ach, voss machts aus? What does it matter? She was from Ohio, so she was no stickler for tradition, although she had a few practices of her own from her growing-up church that Lizzie didn’t particularly like. But when all the dust settled from the risht-dawg and the sun rose on a perfectly prepared wedding day, who knew what an unbelievable fuss h
ad occurred there the day before? That’s just how it was.

  Now the preachers all walked into the room, quiet and solemn, and took their seats in the same row as the bridal party. After the singing was finished, the first minister stood up, cleared his throat, surveyed the crowd of people, and began to speak. After his sermon was over, there was a short prayer, the scriptures were read, and then the bishop from Mam’s home church in Ohio stood up to preach the long sermon. He was in his 60s, Lizzie guessed, according to his white hair and beard. He proved to be a good speaker. He touched on many interesting aspects of marriage, including living together in harmony with your neighbors, as well as with each other.

  However, Lizzie became fidgety, her palms began to perspire again, and her back started aching. She knew the minister would talk about the Tobias story, the tale from the old German storybook where a young man of God set out on a journey for his father and discovered love and then marriage. It was a good, rather touching story, but after the bishop mentioned Tobias’s name, Lizzie’s heart never really slowed down. She knew that soon the bishop would call Stephen and her to stand before him.

  Her heart jumped in one frantic flutter when he started the Tobias story and went racing on until he stopped to announce that today there were two who were prepared for matrimony. He announced their names, and Lizzie ignored her swiftly beating heart and her nervousness. She solemnly did what was required of her, getting up from her chair, holding Stephen’s proffered hand, and following him to stand in front of the bishop.

  The minister cleared his throat and asked the congregation if there was anyone who wished to put a stop to this wedding. Of course, there wasn’t. Then he asked Stephen if he wished to take Lizzie as his wife. Would he promise to love her and take care of her, through sickness and other trials of her life? Stephen quietly answered, “Ya.”

  Then the minister asked Lizzie the exact same questions. Lizzie’s voice shook only the tiniest bit as she said, “Ya.” The minister asked them more questions of faith, to which they both responded in turn with another “Ya.”

  The minister covered their joined hands as he pronounced them man and wife, then spoke a blessing in the name of Jesus Christ. Lizzie and Stephen turned and sat down across from each other. Only then did Lizzie take a deep breath, and her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. Only after the ministers had given testimony, another long prayer was read, and the last exultant song was started, she dared to sneak a look at Stephen’s face. His eyes were very blue, and he gave her a small, special smile, which she returned before lowering her eyes properly to her hands in her lap.

  The singing rose and swelled around them. Of all the slow, old German tunes that were sung, this was the most lovely of them all with its words about God and a bride and groom. Lizzie pressed her lips firmly together to hold in her emotion. The song was sung so beautifully.

  Joy flooded her heart, and a sure feeling enveloped her soul. She had sought God’s will in her own fumbling, unsure way after many errors. But now she had come home, securely bound to her husband by her love and, most importantly, by God.

  The last soaring note of the song died away. It was almost time for the celebration to begin. Finally Lizzie could look at Stephen and see only him, hold his hand, and go back upstairs to change her covering from a black organdy to a white organdy one. She and Stephen also changed from their borrowed, old-fashioned, high-topped shoes to their afternoon slippers.

  Then the festivities of an Amish wedding day officially started. Men quickly rearranged the living room, carrying in long tables and setting them up around the room. Lizzie and Stephen were told their dinner was ready in less than half an hour after the service was over. The wooden benches where people were seated during the ceremony were placed around the tables, tablecloths were put on, and dozens of hands passed out plates, water pitchers, rolls, butter, jelly, applesauce, coleslaw, filled doughnuts, trays of cookies, fruit, and hot platters of food before the guests were again seated.

  Lizzie tried hard to keep a mature, serene expression on her face, but her smile just kept sliding out of control. She was deep-down, really happy, genuinely pleased to have become Stephen’s wife, to spend this wonderful day of celebration as the honored guest who sat in the most important seat, the eck, or corner.

  Her nicest tablecloth covered the table, and it was set with her china, silverware, and, best of all, the expensive water pitcher and glasses Stephen had given her. A cut-glass bowl held fruit, two cakes sat on glass cake stands, and a variety of fancy dishes were filled with good things to eat. Even the butter was molded into wedding bells with little sprigs of parsley adorning it. The whole corner table looked so grand. Joshua and Emma, John and Mandy, and Aunt Vera’s two children, Leroy and his wife and Mary Ann and her husband, served as their waiters.

  After finishing their delicious meal, Lizzie and Stephen went upstairs to Lizzie’s bedroom to open the gifts that were piled on Lizzie’s bed. Many of the aunts and cousins came up to watch them open the beautifully wrapped presents.

  After the gifts were unwrapped, Lizzie couldn’t imagine what she would do with all the stuff! She would need a large pantry and plenty of cupboards in her new house, no doubt about that. She smiled.

  “Where will we keep all of this?” she asked Stephen.

  “We’ll have plenty of kitchen cupboards, Lizzie,” he told her, which made Lizzie glad and happy all over again.

  After that, the afternoon singing began, and Lizzie and Stephen and the rest of the wedding party all filed back to the eck, their table, again. Each of the single young men chose a young girl to sit with him at the table, and they shared a songbook between them during the hymn-singing. All the older folks stopped their dishwashing and other various duties to watch “the youngie go in.” There were quite a few giggles and rib-punching and some whispering among them, as they watched to see who had picked which girl.

  Stephen told Lizzie he was so glad he never had to do that again, and Lizzie could very easily agree with him. The singing started again, slow hymns and also faster ones which the youth led, while candy dishes, fruit, drinks, and other delicacies were passed from person to person.

  There was lots of talking and visiting going on, and one part of the table became a bit rowdy, with some of the young boys tossing small pieces of candy or celery at each other. Their companions either giggled or looked horrified, depending on the type of girl. It was all familiar and very dear to Lizzie and Stephen.

  The last event of the day was pairing the boys and girls for the evening meal. This was Lizzie’s duty. Each boy took a girl to the table. They would eat supper together and join the hymn-singing later in the evening. This was a big event in the life of a teenager. Sometimes, after being taken to the table, a couple would begin dating, so it was considered a good way to meet a companion. It was the hardest part of the day for the bride, because after thinking that she had everything down pat, finished up, and that everything was fine, a few of the boys would refuse to accompany the girls she had paired them with for the evening.

  The air had turned sharply colder after a snow shower that afternoon. Lizzie was getting tired and a bit irritable with some of the couples’ slow response to her pairing. It was getting late, she was almost in tears, and she couldn’t find Stephen.

  Finally he appeared, and she made a dash to be at his side. “Stephen, where were you? I need help badly. David and Lee won’t take Susie and Fannie. Now what do I do? Everyone else seems to be okay with the partners I assigned.”

  Stephen put his arm around her waist and held her firmly, soothingly, while Lizzie struggled to keep her emotions in check.

  “Let me take care of it,” he said and marched her along with him, confronting the two boys who were acting reluctant to join their dates.

  “If you don’t want the girls she gave you, I guess you won’t be getting any supper then, will you?” he said in a firm voice.

  “Aw. Come on!” Lee wailed.

  “Sorry. It’s either
Fannie or no one,” and he steered Lizzie away.

  “You mean … Can you do that?” she asked.

  “Sure. I can act as stubborn as they are.”

  Lizzie giggled.

  “They’ll get over it,” he finished. And that was that.

  Lizzie decided on the way to the eck for supper that she had better appreciate Stephen all her days. What would she have done without him?

  The buttered potatoes, corn, and meat loaf tasted good to Lizzie after a day of traipsing around in the cold, trying to keep everyone happy. She soon forgot her frustration after all the youth filed in and they sat eating the good food and listening to the singing. Lizzie looked for David and Lee but couldn’t find them, so she figured they must be all right.

  Stephen sat back, his blue eyes drooping with sleepiness after the tension of the day. Lizzie watched him, then asked if he was glad the whole day was over, or almost.

  “Oh, am I ever! Even if it’s my wedding day, all these people really make me tired in a hurry!”

  Lizzie laughed. “You look beat.”

  “I am.”

  After the guests said good-bye, and Lizzie and Stephen were wished congratulations one last time, the aunts and uncles started washing dishes, filling garbage bags with candy wrappers, leftover apple cores, and celery tops, all the while still smiling and joking. Some of the relatives continued singing heartily, although Lizzie wondered how in the world they could keep going without their voices wearing out.

  For the last time the bridal party left the table, glad to have had a wonderful time together, but at the same time, grateful it was all over, and that they could get on with their normal lives. Of course, life for Lizzie would be a new “normal.” She was no longer a single girl at home, helping Mam and being one of the family. She was Stephen’s wife now, whatever that entailed, though all she felt was joy and anticipation.

  Even if marriage was a bit like jumping off a cliff, never completely certain where you would land, there was no other place she would rather be than here in this torn-up, messy house that had just held such a joyous celebration.