by Sarah Price
The table cleared, the food put away, and Sylvia excusing herself for bed, Shana retreated to the solitude of the living room where she sat at the desk and pulled out a sheet of paper to write to her family. The lantern on the desk flickered as the sun outside set behind the fields. The clock chimed seven times and Shana listened to each reverberation that temporarily broke the silence. She rarely sat in the living room for Emanuel frowned on using the room without need. But, she often enjoyed the privacy and quiet that surrounded her.
Shana dreaded receiving each letter from her parents, fearful of an announcement that they would be visiting. She hated to admit that being reminded of her past and how far she had strayed from her former life terrified her. Yet, at the end of each passing day, she looked back on everything that she had done and, indeed, she felt pride in just being alive and having survived. From the house to the garden to her small flock of chicken, Shana enjoyed her new role as wife, worker, and worshipper. She didn't even mind the three-hour sermons every other Sunday. In fact, she realized as she sealed the envelope shut, she was looking forward the next worship service in particular.
Chapter Seventeen
She stood in the back of the barn, leaning against a stack of bundled hay. Her eyes remained downcast, staring at the swept cement floor. She blended into the strictly female crowd that either sat on hard benches or stood in front of her, all of them dressed in similar blue or green dresses, complete with the white organza head covering that hid her neatly parted hair, almost one length hair now, that was pulled back off her face in a tight bun at the nape of her slightly sunburned neck. A few strands of wispy bangs strayed from the traditional hairstyle of Amish women. But her cheeks had taken on the color of a woman who spent a healthy amount of time outdoors, working hard in the spring and summer sun.
Shana listened to the sermon, her eyes staring at a spot of mud on the shoe heel of a woman standing in front of her. With the warmer weather, the bi-weekly services were held in the hosting Amish family's barn. With the doors open, a gentle breeze occasionally filtered into the crowded barn. Shana was thankful that she stood at the back where she was able to not feel so stifled. During the sermon, she caught bits and phrases that she thought she understood. But, surrounding her, the faith of the people in the barn filled her with complete understanding of what she was about to do.
Two rows up, seated on a hard bench, a young child, not quite three years of age, began whimpering and rested her head against her mother's shoulder. The woman with the mud on her shoe reached her hand in her pocket and, leaning forward, tapped the mother's shoulder to hand her something. The mother smiled her appreciation and took what looked like a cookie to silence the fretful child. Shana watched, her curiosity peaked, as the child took the cookie and, quietly, began gnawing on the edges. The mother, satisfied that the child was better occupied, returned her attention to the front of the barn, staring at the man who was preaching the sermon in German.
Most of the women were fortunate enough to sit during the three-hour service. Some of the younger women stood in the back. The men sat in the front, their heads covered with their black Sunday hats. If she watched long enough, she'd catch a black hat slowly dip forward for several seconds, the man obviously having fallen asleep. But his neighbor would usually nudge him enough to jolt awake. Shana tried to pick out Emanuel, certain that he sat closer to the back than the rest. But, the sea of black rims looked the same to her. And, giving up, she returned her own attention back to her neighbor's heel.
The air had grown stale and thick before the five Amish men that stood in the front of the barn finally shut their Bibles, signaling that the service was over and the people began filing outside into the increasingly hot sunshine. As the other women hurried toward the house to begin serving the simple noon meal, Shana searched the crowd of people until she found the man with the long gray beard and sun beaten face.
She pushed her way past the small formations of men and, reaching out to touch his heavy, black sleeve, she softly whispered, "Bishop Studer."
He turned around, his kind, aging eyes searching her face. Then, as he recognized her, he smiled. "Shana, how are you today? Did you enjoy the sermon?"
She returned his smile but her eyes darted away from his gaze. She thought about the restless child and the sea of black hats, some of them bobbing as they fought the Devil's sleep during a Sunday sermon. "What I understood, I enjoyed." Then, she dared to lift her eyes to meet his steady stare. "And what I didn't understand, I felt."
The bishop countered as his blue eyes softened, "That was the Lord opening your heart."
"Bishop," she said abruptly in order to curtail the gentle friendly chatter. "I have a problem that I think you can help me solve."
A moment of silence followed and she sensed he was studying her face, his blue eyes flickering back and forth as they read her expression. Obviously recognizing the seriousness behind her words, he reached for her arm and led her away from the crowds, softly whispering, "Seek and ye shall find, child. I will help you if I am able."
For what seemed a long while, Shana stood before the bishop and looked out through the open barn doors. The black buggies, the swarms of children, the laughing Amish men standing in cliquish semi-circles as they swapped stories about their friends, families, and farms. Someone shouted out, a woman from the house. Some men looked up and, their circle disbanding, headed for the long table outside the kitchen door where the women were busy dishing food for their families.
Shana turned back to Bishop Studer, her shoulders pushed back and her chin tilted forward. "I want to raise my children Amish." Noticing the change in his expression, Shana continued cautiously. "It is important to Emanuel to pass along his heritage to his children and it is important to me that my children grow up surrounded by the love of these people and the church. In the past year of my life, I have almost learned complete peace with myself but there is one thing lacking."
The bishop tilted his head, again studying her face. "The Lord," he stated slowly.
She took a deep breath. "I desire to seek Him through the church. I have learned so much from Emanuel and the Lapps and the congregation. It isn't fair that I take everything they've offered to me without giving back. If I wish my children to learn the same values, I must dedicate my life to living those values. Otherwise, my faith is hypocritical." She paused, hoping that Bishop Studer would say something. He continued to study her face, his eyes softening as he detected her sincerity. She met his gaze as she said, "I understand that there is instructional right now, die Gimme nooch deh," she said.
The bishop smiled. "Die Gemee nooch deh," he said, gently correcting her pronunciation.
"Perhaps I might attend or, if that is not possible," she said, suggesting the complications of her present state with a simple gesture toward her enlarged stomach. "Perhaps we could meet for private lessons. I'm sure I have more to learn than most of the others attending the instructional."
"We never stop learning about the Lord's ways. You have no more nor no less than the rest of us need to learn, ja?" he said. Then, a twinkle in the elder's eye, he glanced toward Emanuel who was standing amidst a group of young married Amish men, talking about, Shana assumed, the summer planting. "He would be greatly pleased should you join the church. But you would have to join together."
"Emanuel has never stopped seeking the Lord. Joining the Amish church would not be a hard argument for me to pass with him," she whispered more to herself than to the bishop. "I'll talk to him when the time is right."
"It is always a right time," the bishop chided her. She felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. She had envisioned telling Emanuel in private, surprising him with her announcement in a moment of intimacy. Yet, the bishop had given her a first lesson in what it meant to surrender to the Amish way of life as he casually dismissed such an idea when he said, "I'll see that Emanuel knows where to meet for the instructional." The conversation over, he walked away to join the men.
Since th
e Sunday midday meal was mostly pre-cooked, there wasn't as much cooking or setting up. The congregation filed through the kitchen to fill their plates. The church elders ate under the shade of a tree in the front yard. Several more tables were set up around the yard. The women and children waited patiently for the men to finish eating before they took their places at the table.
While waiting in the shade on the porch for her turn, Shana visited briefly with her neighbor, Mary Beiler, asking her about when they were planning to move to Ohio. "Certainly not until after the summer harvest," she explained to Shana. They began to talk about the crops and Shana felt her own pride when Mary commented, "Your Emanuel works from morning to night, ja? Plowing and planting all those acres by himself. He has the aspiration of a man with seven sons."
Shana laughed with her. "I don't know what he'd do with his extra time if we did have seven sons."
After the midday meal, Emanuel caught Shana's gaze and, without words, made it clear that he was ready to leave. Shana excused herself from the small crowd of women and walked over to join Emanuel as he bade good-bye and headed toward the buggies. He helped her into the buggy, his hand lingering at her touch. When she glanced down at him, he quickly released her hand and jumped up next to her.
Inside the buggy, Emanuel grabbed the reins and, before slapping them against Lady's back, he hesitated. And in that hesitation, Shana thought she saw the glimmer of a tear in his eye. She reached out to touch his arm, concern wrinkling across her forehead.
"Emanuel?" she prodded.
He turned to look at her and she saw that, indeed, there were tears in his eyes. But, the smile that crossed his face quickly reassured her that those tears were from joy. Lowering her eyes, Shana realized that the bishop had talked to Emanuel about their conversation. Certainly the bishop had told him about his wife’s desire to join the church.
If she had hoped to tell him herself, perhaps even surprise him, she realized that such surprises were the Englische way. And she had just given up those ways. The magnitude of what she had just done began to hit her. Her heart began to pound inside her chest and she felt unreal as though walking through a dream.
"Bishop Studer and Preacher Yoder spoke with me. They've agreed to allow us to attend the instructional next week. Preacher Yoder also expressed interest in visiting this week to assist you in your learning," he said seriously.
"Perhaps you could assist me as well, Emanuel."
"I am flattered, Shana." He met her gaze as he replied, "But undeserving of such a compliment. I need as much instruction and guidance as you." Then, as though sensing her trepidation at her decision, Emanuel urged the horse forward in silence, letting Shana wander in her own thoughts.
Deciding to join the Amish church had been a harder choice to make than when she had decided to join her life with Emanuel's and give up her Englische way of life with electricity and cars and the glory of convenience. Every day that passed, she thought less and less of what she had given up and thanked God more and more for what she had gained. Her love of the land and life was new and fresh. She cherished the wonder of each new sprout of corn that poked up from the ground. She enjoyed feeding the newborn calves and helping Emanuel milk the cows each day. She loved each one of the new kittens and chickens that were born during the spring. But now, she wasn't changing just her lifestyle but her entire way of thinking and believing. She was changing her faith.
Several minutes passed before, tears forming in her own eyes, she whispered, "I'm scared."
"He will guide you," Emanuel replied evenly. "'Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord,'" he quoted.
"I've given up everything, haven't I?"
"You've given up nothing, Shana," he reminded her. "You've just begun your ascent into His Kingdom. 'Out of His heart shall flow rivers of living water.' Your life has just begun."
Blinking back her tears, she sighed and leaned back. She raised her eyes to stare at the roof of the buggy. There was no turning back, she realized, not in the eyes of the community. In there mind, the decision had just been made and the baptism, in its own way, had already started. While the unbaptized were not fully Amish, those who desired to take the communion were treated as though they already had.
Chapter Eighteen
Shana walked down the lane, the envelope in her hand-hanging heavy in her heart. The dirt from the lane felt dry on her bare feet. She hadn't worn shoes in weeks, except for church. She liked the freedom and dreaded the upcoming cold months. By the corner of the horse stable, she bent down to scratch the belly of a grey cat, lounging in a warm sunbeam. The cat purred under Shana's touch for several minutes before it rolled over and swatted at Shana's hand, its claws grazing her skin. A thin line of blood immediately appeared.
Shana snatched her hand away and frowned at the scrawny freeloader. "And after all the table scraps I've given you," she said to the cat who quickly jumped to its feet and sprang into the stables. "Off with you then, Mr. Ungrateful," she called after it.
Heading back to the house, she glanced down at the return address on the envelope and sighed. For the past year, she had avoided the inevitable, hoping that the time for her parents visit would never come. Yet now, she was certain that what she had been avoiding was finally upon her.
There were times when she missed her parents but she had gotten used to living without them long ago, since her early days at college. Occasionally, she daydreamed about seeing them and their reaction to the changes she had experienced. Her greatest fear was that, by seeing them, she'd be drawn back into the Englische world she had worked so hard at separating from. Yet, whenever she glanced out the window and saw Emanuel working in the fields or milking the cows, she knew that she would never want to leave the peaceful life that he had blessed her with.
The walk down the lane had tired her. She sat on the front porch and held the letter before her, staring at the elegant handwriting that spelled her married name. She dissected the writing, wondering whether each loop was written in anger or love, or maybe both. Initially, their letters had expressed concern about her rapid marriage to a man they had never met. Then, they wrote about her pregnancy. While they never expressed their disapproval, it wasn’t hard to read between the lines. Clearly her parents were upset by how rapidly their daughter’s life was changing.
During the summer months, she hadn't written as much, trying to avoid the subject. What was done was done and, despite their unhappiness, Shana was quite content with the decisions she had made. She loved Emanuel and loved her new life.
Yet, with the baby’s birth being followed by an imminent visit by her parents, Shana knew that she couldn’t put off the inevitable task of informing them about Emanuel’s Amish upbringing and her decision to join the church. She wanted them to know before they arrived for a visit. After all, their grandchildren would be raised in the same faith. Her hand touched her stomach and, without knowing it, she protectively rubbed her unborn child.
"Letter from your mamm, ja?"
Shana snapped out of her daze and looked up at Emanuel as he walked around the corner of the house. His clothes were covered in mud and his mustache-less beard looked fuller than she had noticed recently. "My mother, yes."
"Say when they're to visit?"
She shrugged. "I haven't read it yet."
"Don't you think that you should open it before you judge what is written?" He sat down next to her, taking his straw hat off of his head. With the back of his arm, he wiped his forehead and set his hat on his knee.
Glancing at him, she managed to smile before sliding her finger under the back flap and slitting the envelope open. She took out the two pieces of neatly folded paper and began to read the contents of her mother's letter to herself. Emanuel waited patiently, his own eyes staring at the massive field of green corn sprouts. In the sunlight, it glistened like a sea of green crystals. A car drove down the road, its engine breaking the peaceful tranquility of the early summer breeze.
"What should they be unhappy about, Shana?"
The tears came to her eyes. She rolled her eyes toward the sky, fighting the sudden flow of sadness that streamed down her cheeks. "Oh, me, I guess." She wiped at her eyes with the corner of her apron. "They expected more from me than to settle down to a life as a farmer's wife. And they can't understand why I didn't tell them about you being Amish, about the life we're living."
Emanuel smiled and reached for her hand. He squeezed it gently. "Then they will understand when they come visiting."
A laugh escaped her throat. She felt angry and abandoned; force to decide a decision that no person should ever face. Her family couldn't understand why she felt compelled to hide his Amish upbringing and how she could to raise her children surrounded by the faith of a culture that had, in their opinion, fought so hard for so many years to regress in time. Yet, if she didn't, Shana knew, she'd never fully have Emanuel nor would she ever feel the strength and love she so admired in Katie and Lillian.