by Tricia Goyer
Chapter Thirty-Four
When you talk you only repeat what you already know, but if you listen, you may learn something.
AMISH PROVERB
It had been hard for Hope getting used to going to a church when she’d first moved to Pinecraft. It was one of the few places in the country where the Amish had a church building instead of holding services in people’s homes. Long wooden benches ran down two long aisles. The women sat on one side, the men the other. The youngsters sat in the front and the older church members sat in the back. That, at least, was the same. Well, there was one slight difference, the older Amish who had trouble hearing, also sat in the front. Sometimes, depending on how close it was to the height of the season, there were sometimes more older ones than younger ones up front.
Hope greeted some of the ladies, answering their questions about her new job in Walnut Creek.
“You’ll be missed by the community,” Vera said. “You did so much work over the past few months.”
“Work?” Hope forced a chuckle. “I was thankful when I got to pull a weed once in a while. There were so many children coming around in and out of school. And then there are all the retired farmers too. I’m sure they will do fine without me.” A sad smile slipped over her lips. “It’s nice to see those farmers spending time in the dirt, since they gave so much of their life to it.”
“I bet it was hard for a time though, having to share,” Vera said. “I’m sure you never thought it would end up like this when you started.”
“No, I never imagined this. But the truth is I’m glad about it now.” A lump filled her throat as she realized the truth in her words. “I didn’t realize what I wanted all along.”
The woman’s eyes darted to the side as another friend stepped into the church house. “I’ll let you go. I’m going to find my seat now.”
Hope moved toward her normal bench, next to her mother and sisters. But as she approached, she stopped short. Pain shot from her heart into her chest when she realized that she’d be sitting alone today. Emma had been sitting with her for the last few months, but now she was gone. Hope pressed her hands to her chest, willing the ache to leave. She bit her lower lip and urged the tears not to come, but it did no good. “I—I’m going to use the restroom,” she mumbled to her mem.
She turned and hurried to the back of the room where the bathroom was, but not before she caught Ruth Ann’s gaze. The woman’s brows were furrowed, and she wore a puzzled expression. Hope quickly glanced away and told herself not to be angry at the woman. A sister had every right to make sure her brother was making the right choice.
She quickened her pace and hurried to the bathroom. She’d barely made it into the bathroom stall before the tears came. If she was making the right choice for Jonas, then why did it hurt so bad? Worries again pressed down on her shoulders. Would he write her when he got back to Guthrie? Or would his attention turn to some of the other women there?
I wish I had an answer…
She wiped her eyes the best she could and then returned to the bench, keeping her head down. Her sisters had saved her spot, and she picked up the hymn book and the fan and placed them on her lap. The service started, and Hope smiled softly at the first song. She could still remember being Emma’s age—just a child—and singing these words. Since the song was sung so slowly and the syllables drawn out, and all the words in German, she hadn’t understood the words until she was a teenager, but it seemed with each passing year the words meant more and more.
To be like Christ we love one another,
through everything, here on this earth.
We love one another,
not just with words but in deeds…
If we have of this world’s goods
(no matter how much or how little)
and see that our brother has a need,
but do not share with him
what we have freely received –
how can we say that we would be ready
to give our lives for him if necessary?
The one who is not faithful
in the smallest thing,
and who still seeks his own good
which his heart desires –
how can he be trusted
with a charge over heavenly things?
Let us keep our eyes on love!
As a gardener she understood what tending the small things was all about. If it weren’t for the seeds there would be no garden. Even though many could be blown away with a quick breath, they held so much promise. After the silent prayer one of the ministers strode to the front.
“Today I’m going to talk to you about a Scripture I’ve written on a notecard and kept in my pocket for many months. It’s from the first book of Corinthians, chapter thirteen: ‘And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.’
“Christian brethren who read God’s Word know there are three principles that can’t be denied: faith, hope, and charity, which is love. These are things to pray for. These are things to offer thanksgiving for. And where do these things abide? Not only on earth, but in heaven.
“If a man lives rightly, then he fixes his hopes of reward on the other world—for the world beyond. We also do good with our earthly treasures, knowing there is nothing is this life worth clinging to for the sake of our souls. The more we fix our hope on the reward of heaven, the more free we are to do good with our earthly treasure. Because of faith in God, we have hope for our eternity. We have something to look forward to, but we should not forget the third gift, which is love.
“There is worldly love and there is appetite for pleasure. This is not the love I’m speaking of. I’m talking about love in a community, in a home, and in a marriage. For some, even when our faith is strong, and our hope is in heaven, we forget that we must love. We forget that love, too, requires faith and hope. As humans there are many things that keep us from loving completely. Fear is one of those things. Fear that the conditions won’t be perfect to love. Fear that we cannot love enough. Fear that if we love completely it won’t be returned.”
Hope sucked in a breath at those words. God, are You trying to tell me something?
“That makes me think of a story that my grandmother told me. She told me that when she was a child she knew a woman who grew a type of flower that had every color of the rainbow. The colors were stitched together, almost like an Amish quilt, so perfectly were they designed. The woman loved her patch of flowers and everyone in the community would drive their buggies slowly by. At the end of the season she would collect the seeds and save them for the next year, but as the woman got older the seeds became more precious to her and she tried to protect them.
“When other neighbors asked if they could have some of the seeds, the woman rejected their request. What if her neighbors didn’t care for the precious seeds correctly? What if they weren’t tended well? Then there was the news that she heard in town one day. Some claimed that it would be a year of drought and that water would be hard to come by. So fearful that her plants would die in the drought the woman decided not to plant her seeds that year. The next year there were warnings of more storms than normal, and so the woman again refused to plant the seeds. Instead, she kept them in a small jar with a lid. And every so often she would take them out and look at them, remembering the promise of their beauty.
“Well, one day the woman was ill, and without knowing it she knocked the jar off the shelf and scattered the seeds to the ground. Since the woman could not tend to her house, a young neighbor girl came by to cook and clean. Not knowing what the seeds were, the young woman swept them up and tossed them into the barrel where the woman burned her trash. It wasn’t until the woman was back on her feet again when she discovered the empty jar and knew what had happened. By then the trash had been burned and the seeds with it.
“The woman was heartbroken. She got on her hands and knees and searched every crevice in her home, hoping the broom had somehow missed a few of the tiny see
ds. To her delight it had, and three tiny seeds were discovered. The woman rejoiced, but fear once again sidled up to her and became her companion. She could plant the three seeds, but she needed to make sure the conditions were perfect.
“So she hid the seeds in a very special place. She waited one year, and then two. On the third year she awoke to a beautiful spring morning and decided that it was the perfect time to plant. She grasped them in her hands, but before she could make it to the garden the old woman collapsed from a heart attack. The last three seeds were never planted, and before that the seeds were never shared. Fear had caused the woman to try to protect the seeds, but in the end, keeping them to herself made them all become lost.
“Now I am certain that there were never really any seeds that grew flowers in every color of the rainbow, but even as a young child I understood my grandmother’s point. Love that is kept hidden because of fear is love that dies. Only when we give love away can it grow and spread. Love requires releasing our grasp. When God’s Word tells us to love our neighbor it doesn’t say, ‘under the right conditions’ or ‘only if you are certain your love will be returned.’
“Just like we have no part in making flower or garden seeds grow, we can’t force love to grow either. Instead, we have to trust that both life and love are in God’s hands. We have to trust that if we have faith and hope there will be a harvest.”
Beside Hope Lovina’s fan began to move in a slow arcing motion, and it was only then that Hope remembered where she was. She’d been so wrapped up in the speaker’s words that her mind had taken her to another place. It had taken her to her garden, but in her mind’s eye it wasn’t the plants or the peace or the quiet that she sought out, but rather a memory of Jonas and Emma the last time she’d seen them there.
Even last night she prayed for an answer. She prayed that God would make His way known to her. It would take faith to give her heart completely to Jonas. But if she didn’t she’d end up an old woman with a hard heart after putting up so many walls of protection.
It was safer hiding. It was safer keeping to herself. But it seemed this year God was prying that shell of protection away. Her goal for the year had been to find a simple job up north, but it seemed like God had different plans… better plans?
The tears came then, and her shoulders trembled. From the corner of her eye she saw Mem’s head turn, but Hope continued looking straight ahead.
She’d never been one to cry easily, and she didn’t understand why she’d been doing so much of it over the past week. Actually, she did know. Whether she wanted to admit it or not Jonas and Emma had wormed their ways into her heart. They’d found the cracks in her defenses, and they’d broken through. And God… He’d done the same. He hadn’t given her what she wanted. God had given her what she needed. She didn’t need a quiet garden. She didn’t need to maintain those walls that she’d so carefully built around her heart. She needed Jonas and Emma. And she needed God.
The speaker shared more about how his grandmother influenced him, and he urged the older generation to spend time investing in the lives of their grandchildren. But as the minister scanned the crowd and paused thoughtfully, dramatically, Hope knew the words to come next would have special meaning.
“When we hide love inside us, protecting ourselves from other people, then we’re no doubt hiding it from God too. Why are you holding back the love that was first given to you by God? Your heart is safe with Him. He will not abuse it. He has a better way. He is the Lord of the soil, water, wind, rain, and storms. And even if the hardship does come, He will see you through to the other side.
“A scripture I was reading this morning pricked my heart as I prepared in the back. And while I listened to this congregation lifting their voices in song I knew the words God was asking me to speak. They are words of faith, words of hope, and words of trust. The scripture is from Psalm 62: “Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us.”
Listening to the speaker’s words, a new reality hit Hope. I haven’t just been keeping others out. I’ve been keeping God out too.
She’d spent all that time in her parents’ garden growing up, enjoying God’s creation and the world He created, but she had never let Him in—not really. And so He’d pushed Himself into the equation.
God had given her the opposite of what she asked for. She’d wanted quiet, and He’d given community. She’d wanted solitude, and He’d given her a chance to love and be loved. And even though community, and love of a man and a girl were things she needed, God knew that she needed Him even more.
God knew that she could not manage the responsibility of community, of a husband, and of a daughter without Him. God was there and she didn’t have to try to face it all alone. Never alone.
The service ended, and Hope didn’t turn to make eye contact with Lovina. She had no doubt there would be an “I hope you were listening to that” look in her sister’s eyes.
Instead, she turned to Mem. “I’m going to help in the kitchen.” Mem’s eyebrows lifted slightly but she said nothing. The kitchen was usually the last place Hope liked to spend time, but today she needed the chatter to get her mind off her aching heart.
She rose and hurried back. She couldn’t think of Jonas now. She couldn’t think of Emma. Not yet. Hope was certain that if she did—if she really thought about how she’d hidden her seeds of love and refused to plant them—then she’d turn into a blubbering mess.
After washing her hands, Hope moved to the counter where fresh, homemade bread had been laid out, ready to be sliced. Hope took the knife and began to cut—maybe a little too hard and too uneven—for before she even got through a half a loaf an older woman placed a hand on her arm.
“Why don’t you let me do that?” She offered a half-smile. “If you could open those jars of beets and pickles I’d be so grateful.” She lifted her age-spotted hand and flexed her fingers. “I just don’t have the grip I used to.”
“Ja, of course.”
Hope moved to the jars and quickly opened them. Then she set the lids to the side and placed a fork in each.
“Hope?”
The soft voice surprised her, and Hope turned. Ruth Ann stood there. Her face was blotchy and her eyes were red.
Hope hurried to her. “Ruth Ann, are you all right?”
“I—I’m fine, but what I’ve done isn’t. Can I talk to you? Do you have a minute?”
“Ja, of course.” Hope rinsed off her hands in the sink and then dried them on a dishtowel. She turned and followed Ruth Ann out.
Ruth Ann walked to the side of the church’s shed, paused, and then turned to face Hope. Hope swallowed hard. She’d been in that shed buying eggs long enough to know what was inside. Those who had chickens brought eggs for sale. Those who needed eggs opened the shed, took what they needed, and left their money in an ice cream bucket left solely for that purpose. Also kept in there were plain pine coffins. They were brought down from the north in case they were needed, and knowing that brought the story the minister just told to mind. Don’t die without risking love, without being willing to share your heart.
“Hope, I’ve done you a disservice. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m the one who first gave Jonas the idea about asking you to let the schoolchildren take part in the garden. I got the idea after seeing you with Emma. I could tell right away that the girl had taken a liking to you.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Hope crossed her arms over her chest. From the look on Ruth Ann’s face the woman wanted to say more. Hope couldn’t guess what that could be. So she just waited.
“At first I was pleased that you and Jonas seemed to get along so well. But then I started to get worried.”
“Worried?”
“He seemed so smitten with you, so quickly. And then I saw how Emma started viewing you as her mother figure. I suppose there was a twinge of jealousy the first time she stopped sitting by me in the church service, instead going to sit with you. But what bother
ed me the most was how much Jonas was drawn to you. You’re so different from Sarah, and I worried that he was moving too fast. I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t listen.”
“Ja, I know. I heard.”
“You heard?”
“I was bringing Jonas pie, and I heard.”
Ruth Ann reached out and touched her arm again. “You heard?”
Hope lowered her gaze. She didn’t need to answer. The tears that filled her eyes answered for her.
“Ach, I’m so sorry, Hope. Do you forgive me?”
“Yes. I understood, and I started asking myself the same questions. Would I be the right mother for Emma. Would I be the right wife for Jonas—”
“Oh, I’m ashamed of myself for even putting those thoughts in your head. Is that why you decided not to go live with my sister? Why you decided to stay here instead of being close to Jonas?” She softly slapped her forehead with her palm. “It is, isn’t it?”
Hope shrugged. “I told him we could write letters. I thought maybe we should take things slower, and… ”
“But don’t you think that message was for you, Hope?” Ruth Ann turned and pointed to the church house. “I mean, the whole time it was as if the minister was speaking to you and asking you to open your heart… and speaking to me, chiding me for having doubts.”
“I had that feeling too. I’ve prayed for an answer… ”
Ruth Ann’s eyebrows lifted. “You can’t get an answer clearer than that.”
“But Jonas is gone. And Emma too. I told my cousin that I could come and help with her garden.”
“Hope, this is love. Your cousin will understand. And what’s the point of writing letters when you know you have to be together?” Ruth Ann grabbed both of Hope’s arms.
Ruth Ann looked to the side, and Hope could tell she was thinking.
“It’ll be fine, Ruth Ann. Maybe I will write my cousin and tell her that I can’t come. Then I can save some money… ”
Ruth Ann’s head popped up. She jutted out her chin. “Tomorrow. We can leave tomorrow. I’ll make space for you. It’s just a short trip for me so I can come back for Hannah… but Hope, you can stay.”