by Tricia Goyer
“This is different,” Hope mumbled to herself. “Is it too much to ask for a place to retreat? Is it too much to have a space just for me?”
Guilt weighed on her shoulders as soon as the words were out, and her eyes fluttered closed. She wanted her own space. She wanted her own work. She wanted to look out at the garden and have evidence to what she’d accomplished… and that spoke of one thing: pride.
Tears filled Hope’s eyes and she lay back against her pillow, allowing her body to sink deeper. Her chest tightened as she remembered her earliest memory—walking behind Mem to church at a neighbor’s house. They’d been walking from the buggy to the house where church was being held. Instead of paying attention to Mem she’d gotten distracted by two puppies in the barn, and when she looked up all she could see was a sea of Amish dresses and men’s pants. Hope remembered how her heart had pounded. She remembered how she’d cried out for Mem. She remembered her tears. Her gut tightened at the memories.
Then, finally amidst the noise, someone heard her voice. It was an older Amish man with a long beard. He’d taken her to his wife—a lady with a round face and large blue eyes. “Oh, it’s just one of the Miller girls,” the woman had said.
It had been the first time she’d heard that term—“Just one of the Miller girls”—but it hadn’t been the last. She and her sisters were more different than similar—in looks and talents—but that didn’t stop those in their community from lumping them together. Hope liked to be by herself, and that was hard to do in a home with four sisters and a mother who loved getting together with other women and serving in her community.
Instead, she’d found solace in the quiet of the garden. And even though she hadn’t expected it, her gardening skills in Walnut Creek had also given Hope her name back. When slow buggies drove by, the drivers had plenty of time to appreciate her hard work. She was no longer just one of the Miller girls, she was Hope Miller, and everyone in Walnut Creek had come to know Hope’s garden.
Even as a young teenager she was often stopped at the grocery store by other Amish women asking for gardening tips. And when Grace had convinced the sisters to open a garden stand on the roadway near their home, business had gone well. People had driven out of their way for her produce. Yet when Hope moved to Pinecraft she not only felt as if she lost her garden, but lost herself too—lost her worth. Was it prideful to want to reclaim that here?
Who am I without a garden? Who am I? The questions filled her mind, and with them came a rush of pain, like a knife to her heart. Hope didn’t want to walk through this world feeling like that young, lost girl. She didn’t want to relive the same emptiness she’d experienced during the last year in Pinecraft. In both cases she’d felt alone, unknown, and unnamed.
I want to be Hope. I want to have hope.
She leaned back against the wall, picking up her pillow and pressing it against her chest. She didn’t want to share her garden, but what choice did she have? She could continue to put up walls and push everyone away, but what good did that do? It was just making her miserable. And maybe she’d lose any chance with Jonas in the process too.
She could continue to push people away. She could move back to Ohio, and she could leave the garden behind to everyone who wanted to run it. Or she could… submit. She could open herself up to others. She could forget about having her own garden and just enjoy being with others during the time she had.
She could still go back to Ohio when the time was right, but until then she’d see the garden as theirs, not just hers. Just like Pauline.
The idea of welcoming others, their opinions, and their ideas into the garden was a hard one. Still, it was the right thing to do. It was what God would want. Our Father.
Hope closed her eyes and imagined people gathering around the garden beds. She imagined children poking their fingers into the soil, and she imagined Jonas there with them. At least that last thought made her smile.
She enjoyed being with Jonas. She enjoyed seeing him with Emma, but also ached at the pain and loss in his gaze at times. She liked the idea of building a closer friendship with him—maybe something more—but another fear plagued her. Would she ever be able to replace the loving wife that he’d lost? She didn’t think so.
God, I’m tired of thinking about all this, worrying about all this. She clenched her fists and then released them. I’m tired of figuring out the perfect plan for the garden, or if I should move back to Ohio, or… or open my heart to Jonas. I’m tired of feeling as if I’ll never be enough. Lord…
It wasn’t much of a prayer, and Hope wasn’t expecting an answer, but a sweet, gentle voice filled her mind all the same. A voice that didn’t come from her mind, but one that did speak to her heart.
I know your name.
Emotion filled her throat and tingles danced on the back of her neck, down her spine, and to her limbs. For most of her life God seemed distant and far away, but in this moment—when she felt weak and confused—He suddenly felt close. Very close. As if He was sitting right next to her on this bed.
God had created her. He knew her fears and worries. God knew how much joy she’d found in her garden back in Ohio. He’d given that garden to her.
God was with her, and she wasn’t forgotten. God knew her name. She just wasn’t one of the Miller girls. She was Hope.
God… Tears filled her eyes, and she covered her face with her hands. Are You doing this to grow me and change me? Is this garden a way to make me more like You… more like Your Son?
It was easy living life within one’s premade boundaries, but was that what God called her to? Was that what He called anyone to?
Just in the weeks she’d started this new garden she’d had to learn to be more patient. She’d listened to others, and she learned to give—of her time, of herself, of her space in small ways. She’d carried on conversations with strangers. She’d planted seeds with Emma, sharing her favorite activity. Yet she also hadn’t given her whole heart to these tasks. How would things change if she did?
Hope thought of Jonas again too. Hadn’t he said he’d given up his farm for a season to help his sister? He’d left the place he loved to help his daughter too. And that was what attracted her to him. He was willing to put his desires aside to help others.
She also thought about Pauline’s garden journal. In 1942 the young mother had started out wanting to prove herself—to prove that she could help with the war effort too—but God had given her so much more. He’d given her friends. He’d given her a community, and He’d given her a heritage to pass on.
Forgive me for being so selfish, God. Forgive me for trying to keep this gift to myself. I know opening up the garden also means opening up my heart. I know it will be messy. I know it will be noisy. But I also know there are lessons there I will learn no other way.
Hope paused and took a deep breath. “And… ” she whispered, “I will accept all this as a gift instead of a burden. I will embrace others instead of pushing them away. And I pray, Lord, that You will do Your work in all of us.”
A gentle peace came then, like the soft, warm spring breeze that had blown through the maple trees and over her garden back in Walnut Creek. That garden was still there, being tended by someone else. And for the first time, she was at peace with that.
Hope reached over and picked up the journal. She turned to the back page where she’d tucked Janet’s phone number. She also remembered the last words Janet had spoken when they parted. “If you’d ever like to see Mother’s garden, just let me know.”
It had been three weeks since Elizabeth had given her the journal and she’d first started reading about Pauline’s story. Yet she never considered visiting the garden until now. And deep down she knew why. Pauline had taken what she had and she’d freely offered it to others, and to see her garden would convict Hope to do the same.
But God had already done the convicting, and maybe she did need to go see the garden—see what God had continued to do in the years since Pauline had dug up that first
clump of grass. Because maybe God had bigger plans for Hope too. Plans she couldn’t even wrap her mind around.
Hope rose from her bed, wondering if Dat was still out back, and wondering if she could use his cell phone to call Janet. Would it be possible for her to visit the garden sometime soon?
An urgency stirred in her heart that surprised her. Once she submitted to God’s voice, there was nothing holding her back.
May 20, 1942
Henry Coulter won my heart by weeding my garden on the one Saturday I dared to sleep in. He’d come by with a single rose to thank me for the wonderful evening at the dance, and when our housekeeper told him that I was still in bed he decided to tackle the weeds. It was Janet who saw him first and woke me up to tell me. By the time I dressed and tied a scarf around my hair Henry and Janet had finished the job. And for the next few hours we lay on the grass and watched the planes flying overhead. Henry described the B-17 Flying Fortresses. He described how the 97th Bombardment Group, which had been training since March, were now in England. And now it was the 92nd Bombardment Group who flew overhead. Henry is a mechanic and guesses he’ll stay around Florida a while taking care of the airplanes. For a while we sat in silence—even Janet—because we all know how quickly things can change.
When Janet went to lunch Henry asked about my husband’s death. He assumed that Richard had been a soldier or pilot. It was strange how easy it was to tell Henry about Richard. It wasn’t until the end of our time together that I realized I’d done most of the talking. Just as I started asking him questions, a neighbor came by to pick beans. We all picked them for a while, but somehow Henry ended up doing most of the work. He was fast too. Said it was due to all the contests he had with his brothers growing up. Henry also recommended that I plant sweet potatoes. He guessed they would thrive. I told him I’d try it. I also invited him to stay for dinner. I miss cooking for Richard and since our cook had the day off, Mother said I could take command of the kitchen for the night. I made poppy seed chicken and baked corn. Both turned out delicious, if I say so myself.
I had a smile on my face after Henry left—or so my mother told me. Even Janet fell asleep tonight without worries of bad people coming to attack us. I know it might be too early to write this—since I’ve only seen Henry a dozen times—but the world seems like a safer place tonight knowing he’s out there, doing his part.
Hope yawned as she walked into Elizabeth’s fabric shop. She’d been up late into the night reading the Victory Journal. Thankfully Lovina had drifted right off to sleep and the light from the lamp hadn’t bothered her sister. Lovina had been working long hours at the pie shop lately and she often went straight to sleep. Hope missed the long chats she used to have with her sister at night, but in a strange way a lot of her questions—about relationships and following God’s call—were being answered within the pages of the journal.
Hope loved reading the recipes, the gardening tips, and the way neighbors were turning into friends, but even more she appreciated reading about Pauline’s growing relationship with Henry. Like rose petals unfolding, it was sweet to read about how their relationship bloomed. At times, Hope felt embarrassed as she read about USO dances, walks on the beach, first kisses, and the time they spent together in the garden. Hope didn’t know if Pauline ever planned on having her journal being read by others, especially by a stranger, yet Hope was thankful to read about the woman’s tentative steps and even her questions concerning the relationship.
Hope had always believed that when one found the person he or she should be with for life, everything would just make sense and fall into place, but maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe the path to love was more crooked than straight at times.
Even as Pauline felt herself growing closer to Henry, she took time to also write out her worries and fears. Should she think about marriage again? Was it foolish to allow herself to fall in love, knowing that Henry would most likely be shipped overseas to fight the Nazis? And what about Janet—what if things didn’t work out with her and Henry? Pauline didn’t want her little girl’s heart to break too.
In the fabric store, Elizabeth was busy helping a customer look at some of the handmade quilts, and so Hope took it upon herself to start straightening the bolts. As she did her own questions—similar to Pauline’s—played in her mind:
Was there a reason Jonas hadn’t remarried? Was he worried about Emma? Was his heart still so broken from his loss that he couldn’t think about opening it up again?
And what about her? Was she ready to be a wife, a mother? She knew that once she had a husband and children she wouldn’t be able to use her garden as an escape. She couldn’t run from people who depended on her. Her life would have to be more than just planting the right vegetables and keeping the rows weed-free.
The customer purchased a beautiful wedding-ring quilt, and Hope helped her carry the bulky package to her car. When Hope returned Elizabeth was just hanging up the phone.
Elizabeth motioned Hope to join her at the counter. “I have sad news, I’m afraid.”
Hope approached and paused before the older woman. “Is everything okay? You’re not ill, are you? Is everything all right with Janet?”
“Ja, with Janet everything is good, but her daughter in Tampa had an episode and needs surgery. Janet’s going to help with her grandchild. Her friend is driving her up, and she’ll be gone for the rest of the week. I’m afraid she’s not able to show us her garden today.”
Disappointment caused the brightness of the room to fade slightly. Hope’s shoulders slumped. “I understand. I hope her daughter starts feeling well soon.”
“I hope so too. Janet says she’ll call me when she returns to set up a time for us to visit.”
“And what about this week? Will she need someone to tend to her garden? That sure is a long time to leave it alone.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. She pressed her thin lips together but a hint of a grin poked through. Thin lines spread from her lips up to her cheeks, and finally she spoke. “Janet has no need to worry about her garden while she’s gone. It’ll be well tended. Janet—like her mother—has made many friends in her neighborhood.”
“That’s gut to know.”
“I suppose the blessing is that you can spend time in your own garden today,” Elizabeth added.
Hope winced slightly at those words. She did need to do some weeding, but she usually enjoyed being there earlier in the day—to miss the crowds. And then she remembered her thoughts from yesterday. God had given her a garden not to keep to herself, but to open it up. Her job was to be faithful in the small things, even if it meant opening her garden up instead of hiding it away.
“Ja, I think I will enjoy time in my garden today. I think I’ll even stop by the school when it is done. There is something I need to talk to Jonas—I mean Brother Sutter—about.” Hope lowered her head and brushed her hands on her skirt as if brushing away invisible lint.
“It sounds like it’ll be a gut day then.” Elizabeth’s voice rose an octave as if she was holding in laughter. “Just the day that the Lord has made. But why wait until after school? The kids won’t be arriving for another twenty minutes yet. I’m sure Brother Sutter would be pleased to have you visit.”
Baked Corn
1 pint corn, drained
2 eggs, beaten
2 Tbsp granulated sugar
2 Tbsp all-purpose flour
¼ cup butter, melted
1½ cups milk
1 tsp. salt
ground black pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 400°. Combine all ingredients in a 9×9-inch baking dish. Bake until top turns brown. Lower oven temperature to 300° and continue baking for one hour.
Poppy Seed Chicken
6 cups cooked and deboned chicken, cut into chunks
2 cans cream of mushroom soup
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
12 ounces sour cream
2 heaping Tbsp poppy seeds
2 sleeves crackers, crushed
½ cup butter
Preheat oven to 350°. Spoon chicken into bottom of 9×13-inch baking dish; set aside. In a large bowl, mix soup, cream cheese, and sour cream. Pour over chicken. Mix together cracker crumbs, butter, and poppy seeds. Sprinkle on top of casserole. Bake for 45 minutes. Makes 6 to 8 servings.
Chapter Twenty-One
The best way to succeed in life is to act on the advice you give others.
AMISH PROVERB
Hope walked to the Golden Coast Amish School with quickened steps. She paused as she neared the door to Jonas’s classroom. Excitement and nervousness knotted together in the pit of her stomach. Taking a deep breath Hope knocked, but no one answered. Tentatively, she turned the knob. It was unlocked. She peeked inside. The lights were on.
Hope walked into the small schoolroom, guessing that Jonas had just stepped out for a minute.
The room was neat and orderly. Twenty wood and metal desks were lined in rows. The metal part of the desks was painted pink, and Hope was sure the Amish school had bought them from a public school sale sometime in the past. She turned a slow circle, taking it all in. This was where Jonas worked, yet this wasn’t his life. His life was different. He was a farmer, and soon he’d be returning to his real place on earth.
She closed her eyes and pictured Jonas plowing behind a team of horses, turning the earth into rich brown furrows. She pictured Emma barefoot in the garden, her small footprints showing up beside Hope’s larger ones. She imagined the soil soft underfoot and warmth from the sun on her shoulders.
She pictured Kentucky, and this time she pictured herself there with them. Hope opened her eyes, gasping at the possibility. Then she crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t know if Kentucky was going to be possible. She didn’t know if Jonas did indeed care for her and wanted things to move that direction, but she didn’t need to know that now. Today she had something else on her heart. She looked to Jonas’s desk and then to the smaller ones. She’d sit in one of the student’s desks and wait.