A Shining Light

by Judith Miller

  Lukas straightened to attention at the sight. “Strawberry jam, Mama.”

  “I think it is rhubarb jam, but you will like it every bit as much,” I said.

  Without asking, Sister Erma prepared a slice of the bread, cut it in half, and placed it on a small plate in front of Lukas. “First you give thanks; then you eat.” She folded her hands together as further explanation.

  Lukas smiled his understanding before he bowed his head and repeated the prayer we recited before eating our meals—at least when Fred hadn’t been present. While Lukas was eating, Sister Erma explained that Brother Heinrich, the name she used when referring to Brother Bosch, had gone to speak to the other elders about my living arrangements.

  “If the elders agree, you and the boy will remain here at the kitchen house with me.” She pointed a finger toward the ceiling. “My rooms are upstairs. There is a parlor, my bedroom, and another bedroom that belonged to my daughter before she married and moved to South Amana with her husband. The bedroom is large enough for you and the boy.” She angled her shoulders toward the kitchen. “Since my husband’s death, I spend a lot of time in the kitchen. It will be nice to have some company.”

  “That’s most kind of you, Sister Erma. I’m thankful for a place to stay until I can make plans for our future.”

  She lowered her head and patted my hand. “Ja, Brother Heinrich tells me you have had lots of troubles. To have a husband die so young is hard and then this tragedy with your father . . .” She shook her head and poured a dollop of cream into her coffee. “For sure, you have had your share of heartache. If I had not been living in the colonies when my husband died, I don’t know what I would have done. To be an old woman on my own would have been very hard for me, but the Lord made provision for me, and now He’s doing the same for you.”

  Sister Erma had tied all the loose ends into a tight little knot of understanding. I, however, hadn’t stopped to consider any of this the Lord’s doing. But who could say? Perhaps the Lord had decided to send a bit of sunshine in our direction. Of course, I wasn’t certain whether living in the colonies would prove to be a total delight, but at least Lukas would have food and a comfortable place to lay his head. And I wouldn’t have to worry about being alone at night without protection, a fear I’d wrestled with each time Fred went out to sea.

  Pots and pans clattered in the other room while we drank our coffee and Lukas continued to devour his bread and jam. When he picked up another slice, I stilled his hand. “No more. You will make yourself sick.” I patted his extended belly. “You can have more after a while.”

  Before the child could offer an argument, Brother Bosch returned and advised that an agreement had been reached. We would stay at the Küche with Sister Erma. “Since you will be remaining in the colonies with us, it would be gut if you could help Sister Erma in the kitchen. She is short of help, and I am sure she will put your hands to gut use.”

  I’d never worked in a kitchen with anyone other than my mother, but I quickly agreed to the request. Sister Erma pushed up from the table. “We will go upstairs, and I will show you your room before I get busy with the noonday meal.”

  “On my way to speak with the elders, I asked one of the men to go for your belongings. He should be here soon.” Brother Bosch turned his attention to Sister Erma. “When Brother Dirk arrives with the trunks, you will show him where he should put Sister Andrea’s belongings, ja?”

  I whirled around, startled by his remark. My dark mourning clothes closely resembled the plain clothing of the Amana women, but exactly when had I become a sister?

  Chapter 4

  Dirk Knefler

  My plain blue shirt pulled tight across my shoulders, and the midmorning sun warmed my back as the wagon rolled at a lumbering pace. I leaned forward and encouraged the two horses to move with a little more spirit. Even though this journey to the Neumann farmstead was going to delay my work in the tinsmith shop, I was glad to be outdoors on such a beautiful day.

  Brother Bosch’s request had surprised me, for generally one of the farmhands would be asked to perform such chores. However, the large groups of workers had already departed for the fields, and the trunks would be difficult for the older brother to wield on his own.

  “The Lord placed you in my path, Brother Dirk,” he’d told me when he stepped inside the shop a short time ago.

  I had smiled at his comment, for I wondered how I could be in his path when I’d been indoors working, but I refrained from asking such a question. And when he said he had a chore for me to complete, I didn’t mention the fact that I had more than enough work to keep me busy for several weeks. When a brother or sister needed help, others were expected to lend a hand. Such was the way of life in the colonies.

  Werner Buettner, the fourteen-year-old assigned to apprentice with me, entered the shop before Brother Bosch departed. “Take young Werner along. He has a strong back and can help you lift the trunks into the wagon. With my aching bones, I could never provide as much help as Werner.”

  Once again I had agreed, though I would have preferred to have Werner remain and complete a small task or two at the shop. Then again, perhaps having him at my side would be a better choice. Although he’d expressed interest in learning to become a tinsmith, the boy hadn’t proved to be a particularly capable student. Only after the elders had assigned him to work with me did I learn that he’d already proved a poor fit at the tailor’s shop, the bakery, and the cooper’s shop. In addition, both the cobbler and the broom maker had declared Werner unable to satisfactorily complete tasks in their workshops.

  After failing in one or two of the trades, most young lads were assigned work in the fields. Werner had been no exception. Somewhere between his job at the bakery and the broom-maker’s shop, he’d been appointed to work in the fields. Unfortunately, that hadn’t been a success, either. Each time he went to the fields his eyes watered and he would develop a terrible cough. As a result, he’d been excused from that work, as well. His previous experiences had left Werner feeling like a failure, and I wanted the boy to succeed at something. Thus far, I doubted it would be tinsmithing.

  Werner shifted on the hard wooden seat as the wagon rumbled along the rutted dirt path. “Sometimes I wish I could get on a horse and just keep going.”

  “Why is that, Werner?” I pushed my hat further back and gained a better view of the boy. “Are you unhappy in the village?”

  “Nein. I’m not unhappy, but I’d like to see what’s beyond our villages. One day I want to see the ocean and the mountains. I’d like to see something beyond these fields and the few stony hills here in Iowa. How about you, Brother Dirk? You ever want to leave and go see the world?”

  I shook my head. “Nein. The world doesn’t interest me much. I’m content here, but you wouldn’t be the first to want to leave and see what’s beyond our boundaries.”

  “My Vater says those who leave usually come running back when they discover it’s hard to make do out there in the world without anyone to help them along the way. He says I should learn to be content where God placed me.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It is gut to be content, don’t you think?”

  Werner wrinkled his nose. “Maybe, but what if Brother Christian and the elders had decided to stay where they were planted? They were discontented, so they left and came to America. We would still be living in Germany if they had stayed where they were planted, ja?”

  “Their reason for leaving was very different, Werner. Our people were being persecuted because of their faith. Brother Christian Metz received a word from the Lord that our people were to come to this new land. You have learned this in meeting, ja?”

  Werner bobbed his head. “Ja, from the time I was a little boy, I was taught in meeting and prayer service about the inspired messages Brother Metz received. But that doesn’t change what I feel in my heart.”

  “I don’t challenge what you feel, but maybe you should ask the elders or your Vater to help you understand the differenc
e between a worldly desire and God’s truth.”

  The boy’s frown deepened. “How do you know the difference, Brother Dirk?”

  I inhaled a deep breath. “If what I want doesn’t align with what is the truth of God’s Word, then I know it is my own desire and not what God wants for me.” We were nearing the farmstead, and I slowed the horses. “Does that help?”

  “A little, but what if the Bible doesn’t say?” His lips curved in a mischievous grin. “I do not think I’ll find a verse that says it isn’t gut for me to leave the Amana Colonies, do you?”

  “Nein, but you will find a verse that says you should honor your Mutter and Vater and submit to authority. You are still young, Werner. When you are a full-grown man, you will think differently.” I pulled back on the reins, waited until the wagon was at a halt, set the brake, and jumped down. “Come on. Let’s get the trunks loaded so we can get back to work.”

  Werner shuffled behind me. I sensed my answers hadn’t pleased him, but I’d done the best I could to give him proper direction. It wasn’t my place to tell the boy what he should or shouldn’t do, but like any member of the community, I had an obligation to lead him along a righteous path.

  “Who owns these trunks, Brother Dirk? Were they pulled out of the fire?”

  “Nein. By the time we got over here, the fire was too hot to go into what was left of the house. These trunks belong to the daughter and grandson of Mr. Neumann, the man who owned this land.”

  Werner hoisted one of the smaller trunks onto his shoulder. Sunlight filtered through the open doors, and shadows danced across the straw-strewn barn floor. “How come their trunks are out here in the barn? Did they die in the fire, too?”

  I repeated what Brother Bosch had told me when he’d come to the shop. Werner shook his head. “I doubt they’ll stay with us for long—not after living in a big city. How come they’re going to live with us? Why not return to Baltimore?”

  If nothing else, Werner was full of questions—questions for which I had no answers. “I told you all I know, Werner.”

  “You should ask more questions, Brother Dirk.”

  I grinned at the boy. “And you should not ask so many.” I waved him back to the barn, where the two of us hoisted the remaining trunks and carried them out to the wagon. Once we’d loaded them, I motioned toward the barn. “Run back and close the doors.”

  Arms pumping, Werner raced and closed the doors and then galloped back to the wagon. He was gasping for air when he pulled himself up and onto the wagon seat. “I was thinking maybe I could ask the new lady what it was like where she lived before. You think it would be improper?”

  I released the brake and called to the horses to move out. “She has a son. I think it would be better to speak with him rather than the woman. She’s an outsider and—”

  “And a woman,” he said, interrupting me.

  “Ja, she is a woman, but I was going to say, she is an outsider, and it might cause her discomfort or pain to be asked questions about her past. Brother Bosch did tell me her husband died at sea.”

  The boy’s eyes grew wide. “Ach! That is terrible. Maybe the ocean is not such a gut idea for me.”

  I smiled and patted his shoulder. “Maybe you are right, Werner.”

  As we arrived at the outskirts of the village, I considered taking Werner to the shop before delivering the baggage to Sister Erma’s Küche, but when I mentioned the idea, he was disappointed, so I relented.

  After stopping in front of the Küche, I grasped his arm. “You should not make a spectacle of yourself, Werner. The sisters will be busy in the kitchen, and we need to be mindful of them. You understand?”

  He bobbed his head, and together we lifted the trunks from the wagon. One by one, we carried them to the porch. By the time we had carried the last bags to the doorway, Sister Erma appeared.

  “Follow me.” Waving us forward, she trundled through the kitchen, into the dining room, and up the stairs that led to her private rooms. We continued along the short hallway and into the back bedroom.

  “You can put the trunks in here. Once Sister Andrea has un­packed what she will need, one of you can return and carry them out to one of the storage sheds.”

  “I’ll do it!” Werner’s declaration was so loud that Sister Erma took a backward step.

  “Never before have I seen such eagerness to work. When I need someone to carry heavy barrels of sauerkraut to the cellar, I’ll remember to send for you, Werner.” The older woman arched a brow. “You will be just as happy to lift barrels of kraut, ja?”

  The boy’s smile faded, and when he hurried to go downstairs for another trunk, Sister Erma nudged my arm. “Why is he so eager to help with the baggage?”

  “The outsiders have captured Werner’s interest. He is no different than I was at his age. He wants to discover what life is like outside the colonies.”

  Sister Erma shook her head. “You should remind him that he is not to mingle with outsiders—especially with a woman. It is not proper.”

  Proper or not, I was afraid young Werner would eventually find some way to talk with these new arrivals. And though I wouldn’t have admitted as much to Sister Erma, I was interested in the young woman and her son, as well. Not because I wanted to explore the outside world, but because I knew the heartache of losing a loved one and the feeling of desperation that sometimes followed such a loss.

  I’d been only seven years old when my own Vater died, and the loss had weighed heavy on me throughout my childhood. Because of my loss, I might be able to help the boy through this difficult time. Perhaps it would be a good thing for both of us, but I would bide my time, pray for the Lord’s guidance, and see if an opportunity arose when I could help him.

  When we’d carried the last of the items upstairs, Sister Erma shepherded Werner and me back to the kitchen. She hadn’t offered us an introduction to the boy or his mother. Although I could see the disappointment in Werner’s eyes, I was certain Sister Erma didn’t want to do anything to encourage Werner’s ideas about the outside world.

  When we were out of earshot, he groaned his disappointment. “It wouldn’t have hurt her to introduce us.” Pointing his thumb over his shoulder, he said, “And after all that work, she didn’t even offer us a piece of plum cake.”

  I chuckled and shook my head. “We are not to help each other with the hope of receiving anything in return, Werner. Besides, you did not have to help. I wanted to take you to the tinsmith shop, but you insisted on going with me, ja?”

  The boy ducked his head. “Ja, but I thought—”

  “I know what you were thinking, but you should not be angry with Sister Erma. Her thoughts were not the same as yours. She has a meal to prepare. Can you imagine the grumbling she would hear if she announced she couldn’t serve dinner on time because she was busy introducing you to the two outsiders who arrived this morning?”

  Werner’s frown remained. “It does not take so long to make an introduction. I think she likes to be in charge of everything that happens in the Küche.”

  I gently slapped his shoulder and grinned. “Perhaps you are right, but just like Sister Erma, we have much work that needs our attention. Visiting is for when our work has been completed.”

  The boy’s frown remained as we walked into the shop. “Our work is never finished.” He picked up a broom and began to sweep the floor. “There is always another pail or kettle to make or utensils that need to be patched.”

  I didn’t argue with him, for he was right. There were few days when we lacked work in the shop. With only three tinsmiths to take care of the needs of all seven villages, we remained busy filling orders for colanders, ladles, food baskets, and utensils of every shape and kind for the kitchen houses. In addition, washtubs, pails, and lanterns were needed by residents of the villages. When needed, the tinsmiths were called upon to fashion or repair gutters and downspouts for the houses. And there were the people from the surrounding area who placed orders for new items or brought their damaged ut
ensils and tools for repair, as well.

  With the steady flow of work, the elders had realized my need for an apprentice. When they’d assigned Werner, I had hoped he would prove to be a young man with dexterity and an ability to learn the trade.

  During his first days in the shop, Werner had shown interest in the heavy equipment. He had been drawn to the bar folder, the grooving and beading machines, as well as the stovepipe formers and gutter beaders. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm far outweighed his attempts to follow my instructions in the proper use of the machinery. Then I tried to teach him how to use the braziers to heat soldering irons so that handles could be attached to the kettles, pails, and ladles. After he nearly set the shop ablaze, I decided working with fire wasn’t a good choice for him, either.

  My thoughts remained on the lad as I picked up a scratch awl, but before I set to work, I bowed my head and asked God to help me find some way to help Werner. If I was going to meet with success as his teacher, I’d need some divine insight and wisdom. After concluding my brief petition, I lifted my head and set to work striking a pattern into the tin. If Werner could learn to tinsmith, he would be an asset to the villages. On the other hand, if he should decide to leave the colonies, he’d need to have some way of supporting himself. I couldn’t give up on him.

  I’d worked for only a short time when I realized that the thrushing of the broom had gone silent. Glancing over my shoulder, I spied Werner sitting at the far corner of a worktable with his head bent low. Unable to gain a view of what he was doing, I quietly walked to his side and stared down at the figures he’d sketched on a piece of paper.

  “You can draw! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Brother Urbinger told me that drawing wasn’t important.”

  I knew the schoolteacher frowned upon the children using their time for anything other than their regular lessons—and art was not included in those lessons. I didn’t want to contradict the teacher, but I wanted to affirm Werner’s talent. “Maybe it is not as important as your other school lessons, but I am thinking that your ability to draw might be useful here in the shop.”