Quiet in the Land
I awoke in the in the early morning to a noise outside the window. Living on the first floor of our two-story home, I was pretty sure it was just a cat rustling in the bushes or a dog on the prowl. Perhaps God had awoken me? The window sash was open to permit the night's breeze into my room and the curtains rustled softly in the wind. I thought nothing of the noise when I first heard it; the cats my family kept were to keep the rat count down in the barn. Pulling at the strings of my white prayer kapp, I prayed for my family and then put my head on my pillow again and tried to fall back asleep. However, after a few seconds, since the rustling hadn't stopped, I sat up in bed and tried to find my long coat to put over my nightgown. After hunting for the coat for a moment, I decided it might be more fruitful to light the lamp next to my bed. As I completed this task and set about on the next, which was to find my coat, I realized that the rustling had stopped. Had the predator in the bushes seen the light and decided to stop its pursuit? I could tell by the way the sky was just beginning to show a hint of pink that it was probably around three thirty in the morning. I found my coat in the closet and quickly shrugged it on, pushing some strait pins through their appropriate holes in the back and front of the coat. The Old Order Amish do not believe in using buttons or zippers on their clothing. Once I had finished fastening the coat with my pins, I straightened my kapp and walked to the window. Just as I leaned out over the sash to look out, I was met with a face with eyes wide in shock. The person, a man, took a step backward and nearly fell.
In terror, I screamed but then clapped my hand over my mouth as soon as I recognized who it was. I let out a huge breath and placed a small hand over my fluttering heart.
"Samuel Jacob Stoltzfus! Oh, you ought to be ashamed, giving me a fright like that! What are you doing here? It's so early!" I berated him not out of anger, but to mainly quell the pounding of my heart. Samuel and I had been good friends since childhood and recently we had begun courting. It was not uncommon in our Amish community for boys to call on girls at night, but he had never mentioned it to me or even gave me the notion that he was entertaining the thought. It had certainly taken me by surprise.
Samuel, who was now looking quite uncomfortable, took off his dark hat and began twisting the brim in his large hands. He kept glancing around.
"I'm sorry if I frightened you. Truly, it wasn't my intention. I thought you might want to go for a walk. We can go by the creek and we can get back just before the morning chores." He looked at me as I leaned casually on the window sill with hopeful eyes. I was ready to jump out of the window into his arms when I remembered that I was only wearing a coat and nightgown and that it was now about three forty five in the morning. He didn't exactly look like he was ready for a walk either. After setting his now-slightly-mangled hat back on his head, he wore the hat, a homespun shirt and some trousers without suspenders. He looked as ready as I was.
"Samuel, are you ferhoodled? What would our parents say if they caught us walking together, you and me in nightclothes? Your father is our Bishop! I think he would have plenty to say on the matter if he or my father came to find out where we had gone."
Samuel had clearly not thought about this problem and when I mentioned our fathers, the smile he had on his face became thin. He stepped back a foot, the grass that surrounded our house waving behind him in the breeze. It was getting lighter now and the sky was turning a nice reddish pink color. I thought I heard a rooster crow.
"They would think we had committed a sin of the flesh. You are right. Maybe after you and I deliver the milk this morning to the Lapps' house we could go for this walk."
As a farm hand, Samuel's duties included raking out the gutter behind the cow stanchions, giving them hay, milking them, and then distributing the milk to various members of the community. I often accompanied him in his buggy on this last chore. It gave us a chance to talk while he completed the task. It also gave us time to be alone. When Samuel is here at our farm helping with the milking every morning there are always other people in the barn. Just to name a few, his cousin Levi, who comes at 4:30 to help with the milking, my father, my little brother Andrew who feeds the cats in the barn, another boy named Joseph Lapp (who often helps with the morning chores like bringing things to the barn from the toolshed on the edge of our property and hitching up the horses to the plow so that we can get all the hay in the barn and the grain in the silo before the rainy season), and a few women who collect all the eggs from the adjoining chicken coops while my mother and I make everyone breakfast. I often bake Samuel things to show my affection for him since the Amish, unlike the Englischers, do not believe in public displays of affection. A carefully wrapped cookie, a cherry pie in the afternoon and a hot breakfast meant more between us than a hug or kiss in public. I looked forward to each morning and the time I could spend with him when he came to us. Samuel's voice brought me out of my thoughts.
"Lena?" Samuel stood directly across from me, his height made even taller by the outcropping of the house on which he stood. "Will you walk after the milk deliveries with me?" The way he spoke, his speech inflected with our Pennsylvania Dutch grammar, made my heart beat wildly.
"Of course."
He turned to leave, but I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Elsam?" I called him by a childhood nickname as I asked, "Why did you come this morning?"
Samuel, with his intelligent blue eyes, stared up at me. He had stepped off the ledge, leaving me feeling quite tall. My question stood unanswered. He smiled again.
"You'll see." He then turned and made his way through the bushes, rustling through them. Then a few moments of silence until he reached our field of grain and his rustling started up again as he made his way to the horse and buggy hitched to the post in our front yard. The staccato of the clop-clop-clop of his horse's feet lulled me to sleep.
I awoke at five o'clock to the sun shining into my eyes. I quickly got dressed in a fresh dress in exchange to the nightgown and coat I had fallen asleep in, put on my soft kapp and an apron and my black shoes and quickly headed to the kitchen.
As I arrived, I noticed that there were a few extra chairs added to our long wooden table.
Guests? I thought to myself. Who could they be?
My mother was to answer that question. "Lena, the Beilers are joining us today for breakfast, as well as Joseph Lapp and Elsam. The Beilers are the family that just bought the Fisher farm down the street. They used to live in Indiana." I nodded and got to work cooking. I wondered if somehow we were related; we had family members who lived in Indiana.
"Have the eggs been fetched from the coop?" I asked casually as I cut some small potatoes, dropping them into a pot of water that was boiling on our gas stove. After cutting those, I began on some stalks of green onions.
"Yes. They are in the ice box to your left."
We grated some cheese and my mother stepped out onto the porch to make us some fresh butter. I began to mix fresh bread and I put it in our oven to bake. My mother came back in after there was enough butter for breakfast and we began to scramble the eggs and set everything on the table as people started to trickle into the dining area. As soon as everything was finished cooking or settling, we brought the remaining food items to the table and sat down.
Once everyone had come in from the barn area or toolshed, we all prayed together. After the prayer, everyone began to serve the food and pass all the dishes around in a counter-clockwise direction. My father sat at the head of the table with Mr. Beiler at his right. Mrs. Beiler sat to his right and my mother sat to my father's left. Elsam and I sat next to each other and Joseph Lapp and my little brothers sat across from us. We ate and everyone talked together about the upcoming rainy season, discussing when would be the best time to raise the Beilers' barn and how to get all the hay from the north hayfield to the barn on our farm. Several hours went by as we talked until my father shooed us out the door to make the milk deliveries. I grabbed my shawl which was hanging on its peg by the door and Samuel grabbed his hat and we walked out to his buggy together. He helped me into the open-air buggy and then sat beside me, the cloth covered milk cans clanging in the back of the buggy. Although we were not yet published in the church, he put his arm around my waist. As he did so, I covered his arm with the edge of my warm shawl to keep his hand warm. In the morning here, it is often cold enough to see your breath. As we swooped around the circular drive, I leaned my head against his shoulder. His smell, the feel of his shirt against my face, and the way his long hair ticked my forehead all seemed so perfect that I closed my eyes and thanked God for my wonderful companion. As we drove down the road in the buggy, I prayed that things would stay this way for a very, very long time.