Tears of the Silenced

by Misty Griffin

  His face paled and everyone heard the sob that came from his wife of only two years. She quickly buried her head in the lap of one of the other married women. The prospect of spending her whole married life as the wife of one of the ministers was not an inviting thought.

  After the deacon was chosen, church was finally dismissed. All of the church members were solemn as we prepared to go home. It was a sympathetic solemnness out of respect for the young family that had just been burdened with the responsibility of helping to lead the church.

  That evening, everyone was silent as we ate cracker soup. We were supposed to be silent out of reverence for the new deacon, but I believe it stemmed partly from exhaustion.

  That night, as the girls and I got ready for bed, Ella whispered to me in the darkness.

  “How is it being a church member?”

  “Very tiring.” I laughed as I snuggled into my pillow and drifted off to sleep.

  An Amish Wedding

  The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud.

  —Coco Chanel

  That summer was busy, and I found myself either in the slaughterhouse or the fields much of the time. It was fun, though, especially since the children were out of school and running everywhere, trying to help. In the evenings, we often made homemade ice cream with blocks of ice we took from the ice house. After supper, the whole family gathered to clean the eggs from our large flock of laying hens to get them ready for the store in the nearby town. Once a week, Jacob and Elam took the eggs to the store, where they were paid a flat rate. Our kind neighbor lady, Mrs. Fletcher, drove them and did her shopping while they dropped off the eggs. Mrs. Fletcher refused any kind of payment, saying she was only too happy to help out.

  Despite the fact that I was happy and life was going smoothly, I always had a nagging feeling I could not shake. Jacob was angry with me for refusing to have talks with him and often went out of his way to be rude to me. I was not afraid of him. I believed he was merely seeking someone to talk to, to hold hands with, but that was just something I was not willing to do. He had a wife, whom he treated badly and now he was suffering the consequences. He was trapped in a loveless marriage that I doubted offered any form of physical comfort.

  I spent quite a few days helping Phyllis that summer. Her seizures came regularly twice a week now, and it was more than she could handle. Since Lillian and Jacob had no small children, it was easy for me to slip out for a couple of hours here and there to help Phyllis, and she was very grateful.

  I enjoyed my job writing for Die Blatt and began to include some of my poems in my column. At times, the poems got too philosophical and questioned things. As a result, I was reprimanded and told not to write poetry that inspired people to stray with their thoughts and to question their teachings. I would cool it for a while, and then start over again, penning my thoughts and doubts on paper only to be reprimanded again. Despite these transgressions, they did not remove me as the community’s writer. My poems were also filled with my innermost longings to be a missionary and to help people around the world. The subtle hints in the poetry I put in the Amish paper were my only outlet for my frustrations.

  In mid-summer, Lillian received a letter from her mother with the news that her youngest sister was published to be married. Being published was how the Church let people know who was getting married and when. Usually, the weddings were about two months after the publishing date and in the fall or early spring. Fall was the most desired time of year, since harvest was plentiful and the large number of wedding guests could be fed.

  An average Amish wedding had anywhere from two-hundred to three-hundred and fifty guests, depending on how many relatives could make it from neighboring states. Weddings and funerals were occasions for the Amish to have family get-togethers. As more and more people moved farther away in search of farmland, Amish families no longer lived in the same communities they had grown up in, so travel by van or bus to family events was becoming more commonplace.

  Lillian smiled as she read the news. She was very happy to hear of her sister Ella’s upcoming wedding. There had been much talk over the summer of who would be making the trip to Iowa if the wedding was scheduled for that fall. Jacob and Lillian had known this trip was coming, and they had been saving for it all year. They decided to take two of the children with them. Since Ella and Elam had made the trip three years ago, and since Ida was still too young, twelve-year-old Moses and I would go along. Ella and Elam would stay with Phyllis and Peter and come back to the farm to do the chores every morning and evening. I shuddered when I learned that Ella was going to stay at the Bishop’s house. Lillian and Jacob had to know what kind of man Peter was. It was easy to see how he looked at the girls, but at the same time, it was easy to ignore if you wanted to.

  The wedding was scheduled for mid-September, and the summer flew by as Lillian and we, girls, worked on cleaning the chickens and other small animals that came through our butcher house. We completed the vegetable, meat and fruit canning duties, and then we made a few new clothes for the trip. I volunteered to do most of the sewing while Lillian tended to other necessities for the trip.

  Samantha wrote to say she had gone on her first date, and she confirmed that the rule that we could not to date till a year after baptism had all but been forgotten.

  On a Friday near the beginning of September, Mrs. Fletcher drove Jacob, Lillian, Moses, and me to the Greyhound station where we took an early morning bus to Missouri. The plan was to first go to Missouri to visit one of Lillian’s sisters—she had married one of Jacob’s cousins. We would stay for church that Sunday and then we would all take the bus to Des Moines, Iowa, where the rest of Lillian’s family lived in a large Amish community.

  When we boarded the bus, Moses and I sat together behind Lillian and Jacob, and we glued our faces to the window, looking out at all the sights as the bus rumbled past city after city. I had only been to the local town a few times since I had come to the Amish community, so I was eagerly drinking up the different scenery. We made few stops along the way and talked to other Amish travelers going to other functions. Several times, as people passed, I saw them nudge each other and whisper, “Look at the Amish over there.” It was a stark reminder that I was not like everyone else. As Moses and I roamed around wherever the bus stopped, for once I was grateful for my black bonnet. I pulled it down as far over my face as I could to hide my embarrassment.

  We arrived in Missouri around one o’clock in the morning and were greeted at the bus station by Lillian’s brother-in-law, who had come in a car with an Englisch neighbor. Lillian’s sister came out on the front porch as we tumbled out of the car half an hour later. We were all quiet as we entered the house, so as not to wake the nine children that were sleeping soundly. Lillian’s sister, Anna, smiled at us graciously and showed Moses and me to the beds we would be sharing with their children.

  That Sunday, we accompanied Lillian’s family to church services and then spent the afternoon at another cousin’s house. In the evening, I went with the cousin’s daughter and her boyfriend to the singing. It was a fun-filled day and evening. The next morning came all too soon and we had to catch the bus northbound to Iowa.

  That afternoon, an Englisch neighbor who lived near Lillian’s mother’s farm drove us home from the bus station. Moses and I were very tired, and we both clapped happily as the large white farmhouse came into view. Lillian had been one of eleven children, but now the farmhouse was home only to her oldest brother, youngest sister and their widowed mother. After the wedding, one of Lillian’s brothers and his young family were planning to move into the large farm house, and Lillian’s mother and her unmarried son would move into a smaller one behind the house.

  There was much hustle and bustle going on as we hopped out of the van. The wedding of the youngest child was almost always the largest, as well as the most lavish. Many women could be seen through the kitchen window with scrub bru
shes or paint cans in their hands. In the back of the house, girls were lined up at wash tubs, cleaning everything in the house that could possibly be washed. As we made our way to the front porch, we were greeted by Lillian’s mother. She gestured to her two older daughters to come into the kitchen where plans were being made for the all-important wedding dinner, the seating arrangements, how the family would get from the wedding service back to the house and so on. Timidly, I followed the women into the kitchen. I did not know anyone, but for some reason everyone seemed to know me.

  “Hi, Emma.” A chubby lady waved to me from where she was peeling apples for the pies.

  “Hi.” I waved back, not having a clue as to who she was.

  The chubby lady laughed. “Oh, I am Matty,” she smiled. “I am a cousin of Lillian’s. I read your post in Die Blatt every month, and I really like your poetry.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I said as I took the work apron Grandma Yoder threw at me.

  I looked around to see what task needed an extra pair of hands and jumped right in to help roll out pie crusts for the seventy-five pies we were making. The wedding was on Wednesday, so there was little time for dawdling, and according to Grandma Yoder, we were behind schedule. One of the ladies that ran a bakery out of her house had a group of women with her who were making the bread, thus freeing up our oven for the very important cakes and pies.

  A few minutes after we arrived, the bride-to-be came in and started helping as well. She was a pretty girl with light brown hair and bright blue eyes. At age twenty-two, she was already older than many girls when they married, but I had overheard Lillian and Anna saying that the Bishop had refused to marry her and her boyfriend of five years for some time now. Sarah’s soon-to-be husband had been in the Bann several times for attending a local bar. It seems he rode his horse into the nearby town and tied it at a post to spend a couple of hours at the bar. For the last year, the twenty-seven-year-old had been on probation with the church, and when no bad behavior was detected, he had at last been granted permission to marry. According to Lillian, her sister, Sarah, had been secretly in love with him since she was fifteen, and he with her. How romantic, I had thought as the bus had rumbled toward Iowa. How very romantic indeed.

  The wedding day dawned bright and sunny, to everyone’s relief. The wedding service was to take place at the nearby cousin’s house. An Amish wedding service is like a church service and can last from nine in the morning until noon. At the end of the service, the couple is asked to step forward with their witnesses, and they are asked if they agree to wed. If they answer yes, they are asked to make a few vows and then are pronounced man and wife.

  Right after the couple was pronounced married, the bride’s mother, sisters, a few cousins and I went back to the house to start putting the elaborate meal on the table. A few of us were in charge of the massive amounts of mashed potatoes and gravy. My arm was aching quite a bit after I scooped the last bit of fluffy potatoes into one of the bowls on the long bench-like tables. In addition to the mashed potatoes, there was plenty of fried chicken, stuffing, deviled eggs, bread and butter, jelly, celery sticks and apple and cherry pies.

  In the corner of the largest room is an area called the “Eck” (German for “corner”). This is a special place set up for the bride and groom where they can sit with their closest friends and still see most of their guests. The best and most beautiful foods are placed in the Eck for the enjoyment of the wedding party.

  We had barely finished laying everything out when people started arriving. I helped the women replenish water glasses and food bowls as they were emptied. It was such a large wedding that we had to clear and reset the tables three times. As I went about the business of making sure the wedding dinner went smoothly and no one was in need of anything, I glanced at the blushing bride. She looked truly happy as she leaned on her husband’s shoulder. This was the only time it would be acceptable for her to show affection in public, and she seemed to be taking advantage of it. I smiled, wondering if that would ever be me. In reality, being at a wedding almost made me want to get married and live happily ever after with the man of my dreams, but the finality of it also scared me.

  After the wedding dinner was over, we cleaned up the dishes and cleared away the leftovers in preparation for the evening events. It is the custom on the evening of the wedding to invite all the young people from the district—and from surrounding districts—for a long evening of singing. There was one variation to a normal singing: the married men took great pleasure in pairing the unattached young men up with the unmarried young ladies. I was a bit nervous about this since I was quite shy and never had much cause to talk to any members of the opposite sex unless they were in my immediate family.

  I timidly joined the other girls that were huddled together in groups, either waiting for their names to be called or to go sit with their boyfriends.

  After about half an hour of standing outside, one of the young married men came to the door and waved the boys in. First the boys that had girlfriends walked in, and as they reached the door, their girlfriends joined them. They sat at the long table together as the married people looked on and commented about how the couple looked together or whose relatives they were. Next, the boys that did not have girlfriends entered. One by one their names were called and then a girl’s name was called, and then the pair walked in and sat together. I waited nervously for my name to be called. About halfway through the list of single men, I heard:

  “Jonathan L Borntrager and Emma J Schrock.”

  I looked around to make sure there were no other Emma J Schrocks in the group, and then quickly stepped forward to walk in with Jonathan. I looked up at him as we walked into the room, and he smiled down at me from his towering six-foot-plus stature. I smiled back; he seemed nice enough. As we sat down, I saw the paired couples whispering to each other. This was only allowed at weddings, and the young people seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. This was my first time with the youth group at a wedding singing since these pairings are not allowed until after baptism. Although I was nervous, I found myself starting to enjoy the fun atmosphere as girls on either side of me leaned past their boyfriends to crack jokes with each other. Jokes and funny articles circled around the table. It was an enjoyable time filled with singing and practical jokes. I smiled at the little bit of freedom, and at the parents hoping that unmarried children would find a boyfriend or girlfriend, even if it had to be long distance.

  We stayed for a few more days to help clean up after the wedding and so Jacob and Lillian could visit friends and relatives. Then, we were headed back to the bus station for the long ride home.

  Everyone was quiet as we left the Iowa countryside behind and headed north to Minnesota. I looked out at the cars and Englisch houses. I wondered how they spent their days. How strange and different from us, I thought. I could not even imagine how the Englisch lived with their bright lights, constant loud noises, and worldly clothes.

  I looked at the Englisch women and thought about how they looked different. All of them had different hair, makeup, and clothes. I wondered how they decided what to put on or how to fix their hair. I thought hard about this and wondered what it would be like to live among them. I had not thought about any of these things since I was a small child. All I had to do was dress according to church law every day of my life. The biggest decision I ever had to make was what color dress to wear on Sunday, and often that meant whatever we had all decided to wear as a group. There was little individuality or sense of self-worth in the world I lived in.

  As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I looked toward the front of the bus. I noticed a young, smart-looking woman about my age, with a pile of books in her lap and a notebook in which she seemed to be writing notes. I frowned absentmindedly. How much I wished to be like her: smart and confident with the ability to live according to my own standards and to speak my mind. She was worlds away from me, however, and even though we brea
thed the same air, we lived in two very separate universes.

  That November heralded the arrival of my twenty-first birthday. I was now considered a full-grown adult, and Jacob and Lillian were required to pay me three dollars a day for every day that I worked. This money was either put into an envelope on the desk or recorded in a tablet to be given to my husband after I married, or shortly before if we needed help with the purchase of a farm. Any quilting I did now was tracked, and I was paid for that and any other side sewing jobs I did. Many girls are in a hurry to make as much money as possible when they turn twenty-one in preparation for their upcoming weddings, but since I did not have a wedding to plan, I did not care about the money.

  For my twenty-first birthday, I was given a wall clock with a pendulum. I was happy as I stowed it away in my hope chest, but as I closed the lid on the chest, I could not help wondering if I would ever use any of these things to set up my own household.

  Letters from Samantha and Matty told me how excited and happy they were with their new boyfriends. Matty had found an older boy in the community. Samantha wrote that he was overweight and a little slow, but he seemed very kind. I was happy for Matty. She was a sweet girl and deserved a kind boyfriend. Samantha had been on several dates with Daniel and was already dropping hints about becoming Mrs. Hostetler soon.

  That winter, I spent a lot of time working on a quilt that I planned to sell for commission at the quilt shop. I was making my favorite sunshine and shadows pattern. I loved the mix of bright and dark colors, and since it was to be sold, I could use printed fabrics and any colors I wished. I had fun at Wal-Mart picking out the fabrics to be matched together. I put all of the creativity I could muster into that quilt and was repaid with oohs and aahhs from everyone that saw it.