My Life as An Amish Wife

by Lena Yoder

  We prefer homemade pancake syrup, especially if I serve it warm.

  Pancake Syrup

  I simmer equal parts—let’s say 2 cups each of brown sugar, white sugar, and water. Add approximately 1 cup white corn syrup and simmer a while. Once I turn off the heat, I add a few drops of maple flavoring.

  You can tell I was taught to cook in a very approximate way. My mom would add a little of this and a bit of that, creating many wonderful dishes and daughters who are very daring in cooking. Now that is the way I am teaching my daughters. I hope they will all love cooking as much as all my sisters do.

  I will probably have a hard time getting the children out of bed this Monday morning. We had a lazy, restful day at home yesterday, so the children had a hard time settling down last night at bedtime. After being in bed a while, Jesse came down the stairs saying he messed his pants. “Whatever for?” I asked. “We were laughing too much, Mom!” he replied.

  My word, it’s time to settle down and sleep. So I cleaned him up and sent him back to bed with strict orders to be quiet and sleep. Around a half hour later, I detected a flashlight and four feet coming down the stairs, trying to be very quiet. It’s almost as if they weren’t breathing lest we hear them. All at once there was a loud crash, and I cringed. Now what? All is quiet. And then I heard some snorts and a suppressed giggle. Quietly, with not much expression, Karah said, “Daddy, the flashlight fell into the toilet.” Yuck! Thankfully Wayne rose to that occasion and took care of the situation. It was late by then. Praise the Lord—it was peaceful the rest of the night!

  Now this morning the cows are milked, the calves are fed, the horses have their munchies, and Wayne is off to work. Colleen and Brian head back to bed again. All is quiet except for the hum of the gas lamps.

  Today is laundry day again, baking again, and clean up the house again. Isn’t that just about as boring as life can get? With feeding nine mouths, it seems we are always preparing food. Especially to fill the four lunch pails, eat breakfast, have a snack when Wayne comes home from work and snacks when the children come home from school, and eat for supper. It’s a never ending, “Mom, what’s to eat?”

  If our hearts are right with the calling we as mothers have from the Lord, we can have great joy in these mundane, everyday tasks we have to do. I cannot think of a more pleasant feeling than sitting down to eat with my family around the kitchen table and everyone digging in and polishing off the food set before them and joining in all the important family discussions. Our conversations range from belly-busting funny to very serious. Then we wash dishes again. We sweep the floor again. One day, and then the next day. Again and again. That’s exactly what the Lord wants us to do, and what a wonderful, blessed, simply satisfying calling we have.

  I wish I could remember more what my mom used to bake while I was still at home. I think we usually had cookies, and we’d dunk those into our water for dessert. She also liked to bake pie. I guess I inherited that from her. For breakfast we usually had “dunk eggs,”* buttered bread, and cereal. Sometimes she would make tomato gravy and fried potatoes, pancakes, or fried cornmeal mush. In the wintertime, she’d make breakfast and put it on top of the warming shelf of her wood cookstove. That always looked and smelled so warm and inviting to come in to after choring. For lunch it was always meat, potatoes, and vegetables. For supper we had soup. Hot soup in the winter, and cold soup in the summer. On Saturday nights we had toasted cheese sandwiches and chocolate milk.

  Mother’s Day. I wish I would’ve made that day more special for Mom while I had the chance. I know she knew we loved her, but we all like to be told again and again.

  Some of the earliest memories I have of Mom is taking naps with her at noon. She’d read a Raggedy Ann book to me and then we’d both fall asleep. It got to the point where she would fall asleep and I would slip away. I also remember at a young age sitting with her in church and putting my head on her lap to take a nap sometime during the three-hour services.

  Secretly I’ve been wishing for new living room and bedroom flooring. Ours is worn down to bare wood in some places. It has so many nicks and scratches that it always looks very dirty. I keep a rug in the middle of the living room to cover most of it up plus help with warmth in the winter. Still I keep dreaming. I don’t want to succumb to begging or nagging because I know it’s not possible to change it now anyway. Why make life miserable?

  I think of the floor Mom used to have here in the kitchen before they remodeled. One half was dark-red linoleum with a brick design, and the other half was a light-green color. Imagine. It was ugly. A real breech in modern interior design. Plus, the last several years it had a spot by the table measuring about two feet by two feet that was worn to the wood. She kept a rug thrown over it, which was very inconvenient at that particular spot. I don’t recall hearing her complaining once. Mom and Dad did remodel then, and she had a nice floor. Maybe if I am quietly patient like Mom, we can someday make improvements too. At least I have a warm cozy house to live in. The people down in Haiti…

  Do we sometimes confuse what we want and what we really need? Are we the cause of peer pressure?

  This week I want to work on cutting and sewing six pairs of denim pants and an unlined denim coat for Wayne—a job that has been necessary for a long time already. Colleen needs to finish up a quilt she has been piecing, plus I surprised her with fabric for a new dress so she can sew that this week.

  Wednesday I have plans to spend the day with two friends, Linda and Ruth. We rarely see each other, so I’m really looking forward to spending the day with them.

  Thursday evening Wayne wants to take Brian and Jesse to the horse sale. I’m hoping it works out because they rarely get to go to places like that.

  Sometimes motherhood is overwhelming to me. It seems like I can’t stretch in all the directions I should. Keeping my family fed and clothed, plus the most important… meeting all their emotional and spiritual needs can be hard. I rely wholly on the Lord for his guidance. I am nothing without him. I think of what Jesus said to Mary when Martha accused her of not doing enough: “She hath done what she could” (Mark 14:8). Oh, to have him say that about me!

  Year 3

  Summer

  There, now that’s done. Wayne’s work pants were almost falling to his knees, so I tightened them for him. Wayne can lose weight without even giving it a thought. In fact, I know some women who can do that too. I’ve been one of those lucky ones who come from a long lineage of weight-challenged women. I seem to be between a rock and a hard place.

  I can chose to relax and simply eat whatever I want to and enjoy it to the max, which would be wonderful since I love to cook and bake delicious dishes. But then I’d have to deal with not feeling good physically and mentally. There are so many delicious-looking processed foods available on the market that are so tempting to weak people like me. I find it helps to shop locally where a little less variation is available. That’s my rock.

  Now the hard place is always having to make a great, conscious, thoughtful effort to what I eat in a day. To have been born in a long line of naturally thin ladies seems to me would eliminate a lot of stress. Actually, the big deal to me is to be healthy and physically fit. I come from a long line of people with heart and diabetes problems, and I’d like to do my part in avoiding these diseases.

  I have no problem with getting enough exercise since I do chores for four hours a day. With our changed routine, I inherited more chores. It requires carrying and dumping five-gallon buckets of water. I immensely enjoy it. It gets my heart pumping and gives me energy.

  Recently I was telling my children how I used to climb up into the silo to pitch down the silage, load the silage onto a wheelbarrow, and then push the full load about 75 feet out to the feeder. About 20 of those feet were on a two-by-eight-inch board that was suspended from the feed alley to the feed bunk (the area from silo to the place we fed the cows). Load after load after load I hauled. We had no skid loader then. I do think it made me wide awake and ready
for school in the morning. We had to get up early to chore, but I’m guessing we handled it okay because we never had plans for evenings during the week. We did the chores, ate supper, maybe played a few card games with my mom and grandma, and went to bed early.

  Wayne’s been working in the fields after getting home from his job. Brian can do the TMR mixing, feeding, and other outside chores, plus whatever else we deem necessary to have done. I tackle the milking. Colleen keeps the house going with all that needs doing. The little girls help too wherever they’re directed. One day leads into the next, and time keeps marching steadily on.

  The last time we went to town, I treated the little ones to some candy. I also bought a fresh pineapple. That evening while cutting up the pineapple I had a hard time getting any into the bowl because little hands kept snatching the pieces as fast as I cut them. Jesse told me, “Mom, these are better than that candy!”

  I agreed. I’m thankful they like fresh fruits and vegetables. Just now Colleen, Jolisa, and Jesse went in search of fresh asparagus, hoping there is enough for lunch tomorrow.

  That squeaky, trusty, red trike has reached retirement age. Jesse took to riding a bike like a fish takes to water. His only handicap in the learning process has been starting off. We have a circle driveway the little ones can fly around on their bikes. It’s fun to hear their imaginary stories of where they are going, often stopping in to see if we have this or that they can borrow, depending on the story. To have their sweet, sweet innocence… Sometimes their depth of thought scares me. They notice minute details and imitate them, good or bad. They definitely keep me humble.

  One of my greatest concerns as a child was wanting a bike. An honest-to-goodness, two-wheeled bike. I had a trike but had outgrown that by two years. I remember kneeling to pray with my little brother Jay out under the two big maple trees. God was faithful—I did get one!

  I thought we had stress with dairy farming and trying to make an honest-to-goodness living. Add to that the stress of Wayne working at the RV factory. Add to that just life in general. Sometimes I feel like throwing up my hands, screaming at the top of my lungs, and running as fast as I can. Run where? I don’t know, but run nonetheless. I know those are not healthy thoughts, but admit it—we’ve all had them.

  I need to back up, sit up, and remember what all I have to be thankful for. Between my pinched-up, stressed-up, narrow eyes it too often looks like too little to me, and for those thoughts I am truly embarrassed. I am thankful for what we have: a family filled with love. And we are all healthy as far as I know. When we sit down at the supper table, we are all at home together. There is no way I can list all I am thankful for.

  We need to pray to keep our healthy minds and our faith in God. We need to remember to relax and enjoy the blessings the Lord has so graciously given us.

  The smartest advice on raising children is to enjoy them while they are still on your side. I enjoyed that quote when I read it. It also makes a sigh escape my lips. They do not have to be very old before they form their own opinions, ideas, and characters. We’ve had some pretty bumpy days since summer vacation has started.

  “Mom, we just washed dishes!” “It’s Karah’s turn, or it’s Emily’s turn, or it’s Jolisa’s turn.” It’s time to get a chart made so we can stay more organized and save us the fuss of all these petty arguments.

  When we went to Wayne’s home place the other evening, he teasingly encouraged me to get a handful of lilac twigs off the lilac bush. He remembers what those feel like on his hiney, and he thought maybe the girls should know too. I was going to take his advice seriously and then forgot. So I guess for now the rubber spatula will have to do.

  This is the first full week that the scholars are at home. This morning Karah helped Colleen with a huge laundry. Friday night was Wayne’s side of the family night, Saturday was the end-of-the-year picnic at the school, and Sunday night we went to see our brand-new niece, Deanna Kay. That meant a lot of laundry to do.

  Early this morning Brian went to the field to cultimulch.* He enjoys working in the fields, which is evident because he was soon in the field after lunch. Watching him hitch up those big Belgian draft horses—and evidently knowing what he was doing—had my heart by the strings. He’ll be 14 in August and has much better insights on farming than I do… except for the milking part. He can milk, but he doesn’t enjoy it.

  We’ve had a lot of rain lately, which on our farm produces mud. Major mud. Karah decided it’s easier to go get the cows in from the pasture in bare feet than with boots. She lost her boots to the mud one time. It’s easier washing her feet.

  We had a hard frost this morning. Wayne was quite concerned about the hay. It’s looking good at knee-high and higher. We are hoping for a good harvest. He plans on making haylage* with the first cutting.

  I’ve had to rinse frost off the strawberry patch a couple mornings. I want to save all the strawberries I can. We are looking forward to strawberries and ice cream, strawberry shortcake… well, just about anything is good with fresh strawberries—even salads.

  I’m sitting here with a blue bandana wrapped around my neck and smelling like a Vick’s VapoRub jar. Last week Wayne started out with a bad head cold. He didn’t have one all winter. Having a cold in this warm weather is miserable. Now I’ve started with a bad sore throat, earaches, and sniffles. With my sister Freda coming from Oklahoma this week, it produces a lot of plans, so I’m hoping this bug is short-lived.

  The girls are actually getting to the end of the dirty dishes. We need to continue working on the virtue of promptness. It’s amazing all the things they can do at the same time. The stories they come up with are worth recording, as are the songs they sing. The squabbles we can forget.

  Karah is now baking a couple pans of cookies. This morning I stirred a big batch of chocolate chip cookies together to bake some now and then later this week. I usually bake them all at once, but with Freda coming I decided to bake them fresh as needed. We’re excited to have her in our midst.

  The other evening after supper and playing outside for a good while, Jesse was hungry and simply had to have something to eat. We prepared a small bowl of yogurt and granola for him. He sat on the couch and devoured it, savoring it to the last lick. Then out loud he said to himself, “Was that good, boy?” He paused and then he said, “Yes, it was!” We all got a good laugh out of that.

  We’ve been teaching Jesse to talk English, which is always interesting to me. I remember before I was old enough to go to school I told one of my dad’s friends, “It is dropping!” It had started to rain. The less I talk English, the more Dutchy I get.

  We have the absolute ugliest county dirt roads we’ve ever had. They are supposedly graveled, but this spring they dumped tons of stones on them. It’s almost impossible to ride a bike on them, and that’s a major form of transportation for us. With our house practically on the road, we eat a lot of dust.

  We appreciate when it rains so the dust is settled and the vehicles pack the stones so it’s easier to bike on and easier for the horse to pull the buggy. Our appreciation doesn’t last really long because it seems as soon as it rains the workers come by with a big grader and tear the stones all up again. Hopefully one of these days they’ll put some dust control on the roads again. That always helps for most of the summer. I appreciate living in the country, and for the most part of the day our road is fairly quiet. The mornings and afternoons are busy with factory traffic and school buses.

  Some days Wayne comes home from work late, so we trudge on, putting in long hours. I feel very fortunate to be able to work, and I do not want to complain. Spring and summer are my favorite seasons, even if we work long, hard days. I have hopes of leisure nights sitting around the campfire in our yard and enjoying s’mores and popcorn. The children spend a lot of time on the trampoline in the evenings—so much so that we sometimes have to use the timer so everyone gets an equal opportunity. Even this mama likes a turn. That’s good because I need to burn those calories from all thos
e strawberries and ice cream and s’mores.

  I’ve started doing my walking in the morning since it gets daylight earlier. I love listening to the birds’ cheery good-morning songs, plus it is a time completely to myself. Colleen and Brian both go back to bed after the chores are done, but all too soon it is time to get everyone up and at it.

  I am anxiously awaiting canning season as I’m out of ketchup, and I noticed the tomato juice is getting low. I thought I had done a lot last year, but I guess it takes a lot too. The apple pie filling is also getting low, so I’d better start using more of the other fillings. Apple seems to be a favorite. We use the apple filling for apple crisp too. We dump a quart of the filling in a baking dish, top it with our homemade granola, and bake it until it is heated through. You can’t get it any simpler or yummier than that!

  The last several days we have been crossing a lot of odd jobs off our list of have-to-be-done. That’s a good feeling. We’re not caught up, but we sure enjoy making a dent in the list. This summer I’ve been making lists every day or two, and that seems to be working well. The girls think all they have to do is wash the dishes and sweep the floor. I keep telling them that is the way to learn to work and to like it—by knowing the satisfaction of a job well done. We adults have to do the same things over and over and over. Suppose we would decide one day we just don’t want to anymore? That advice lasts for one complaint. How quickly the children forget. They helped really well with cleaning strawberries. Bringing in the laundry from the lines and folding and putting it away is about the worst punishment to them. But it’s a job that has to be done, and they can easily do it.