She arrived back at the house in time to see a happy swirl of activity. The children swarmed through the kitchen and living room, the older girls chopped and grated cheese, and Edith spread dough on a circular pan.
“Pizza!” Leah exclaimed. “Not that I’m arguing, but this doesn’t strike me as a traditional Amish dish.”
“Maybe not, but it sure is tasty.” Edith’s eyes twinkled. “We easily go through four of them whenever I make it.”
Leah slipped upstairs and placed the crooked stick in her dresser drawer. Then she rejoined the family, washed her hands and volunteered for any necessary task. Rachel handed her a lump of mozzarella cheese and a grater.
“Let’s see...” Leah looked over the preparation process. “Tomato sauce, homemade. Mozzarella cheese, homemade. Dough for the crust, homemade. Spices, homegrown. Onions, homegrown. Sausage, homemade.” She winked at Edith. “This is gonna be much better than anything I could buy frozen at the grocery store.”
“Probably.” Edith spread sauce on the dough. “I’ve never had frozen pizza.”
“To someone raised on store-bought food, homemade pizza is amazing.” She continued grating the cheese, but the journalist in her questioned whether Isaac was right, and even something as ordinary as pizza could be made into an extraordinary article focusing on the homegrown components.
Edith scooped up some of the grated cheese from Leah’s pile. “A neighbor showed me how to make pizza a few years ago. It’s become a family favorite. Now we have it every Friday night.”
“Nothing else going on tonight? No hot dog roasts or anything?”
“Nope. We’re not hosting church either, so it will be a quiet weekend for us.”
“Hosting church? What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry, I guess you might not know,” Edith said as she sprinkled the cheese across the pizzas. “We meet for Sabbath services every other week, not every week. We don’t use church buildings. Instead, families rotate to various homes. We hosted a couple months ago, so it will be a while before it’s our turn to host again, probably not until well after the boppli is born. And since this is our off week, we’re not having a church service on Sunday.”
“What do you normally do on Sundays when there isn’t a church service?”
“It’s a day of rest, so we don’t do any work except chores that must be done every day, such as milking the cows and feeding the livestock. It’s a good time for visiting, or reading or napping. Children will sometimes get together to play games. We’ll cook extra food ahead of time, so we don’t have to cook. Sundays are lovely days.”
“Why don’t you have church buildings?”
Edith decorated the pizzas with chopped onions and sausage before answering. “It all goes back to the 1600s. Our ancestors were called the Anabaptists, and they were persecuted all over Europe, so they were forced to meet in secret. They held church services in homes, caves, in the forest—wherever they would be least likely to be discovered. At the time, churches in Europe were huge and very ornate and of course used just once a week. That seemed very wasteful and extravagant. Even after the persecution died down and the Anabaptists were able to meet without fear, they continued to use peoples’ homes for services.”
“Is that why this house is so spacious?”
“Yes, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but many of the walls are like pocket doors. They can be slid back and rooms opened even more, to accommodate all the benches and people.”
Leah glanced at the kitchen wall separating it from the living room. Intrigued, she walked over and examined it. “You’re right! How clever!”
Edith chuckled. “I love our church services. Oh, and that’s another reason we have no church building—we believe church is the people, the body of believers, not any one building or place.”
“I’ve only been here a short time, but already I’m impressed with how unified everyone seems to be.”
“Ja. We tend to emphasize unity, humility, submission. We feel strongly about maintaining the purity of the body of believers, which is why we prefer to stay apart from the Englisch world.”
“Isaac mentioned this afternoon how glad he was to be back.”
“I’m glad he’s back. I just hope he can find a nice girl and settle down soon.”
Leah glanced at Edith, but the older woman’s head was bent down over her work. “Rachel said much the same thing,” she offered in a neutral voice.
“He’s doing a good job, caring for his mother.”
“Is she widowed?”
“Yes, her husband died a few years ago. He was a good man. It was a hard loss for Eleanor.”
“Does Isaac have any brothers or sisters to help out?”
“Ja, sure, but they’re all married and living on their own. It’s tradition for the youngest son to inherit the farm, so Isaac cares for his mother too.”
“I noticed she was limping. Do you know why?”
“I think she needs a hip replacement.”
This led to a whole new avenue of consideration for Leah, and again her journalistic instincts were piqued. “If she does need an operation, how is that paid for? Do you have insurance?”
“No.” Edith slid one of the pizzas into the oven. “Most things we try to treat as we can. For anything more serious, we use doctors and hospitals. It varies by community, but mostly we pay for any health care we need ourselves. But we combine church aid—a sort of tithing—with benefit auctions, and we try to negotiate directly with the hospitals, as well. Most hospitals are very good about working with people who pay cash.”
“So if Eleanor needs an operation, everyone pitches in?”
“Ja, sure. I mean, how else would it be paid for?”
How indeed? The thought of being without health insurance was a frightening concept for Leah. The care she received after her run-in with the gang members reinforced the need for insurance. But the Amish had figured out a way to do without it, while still taking advantage of medical care when needed. “Impressive,” she murmured.
“Not really.” Edith pushed in another pizza. “It’s just a matter of shared responsibility. Medical needs go beyond us as individuals. They’re shared concerns, church concerns. We don’t want the government to pay for our things. We think we should take care of our own members.”
“That’s why your barn raisings are so famous.”
“Perhaps. But we don’t want to be famous. We just want to mind our own business.”
Pride again. Or rather, an aversion to it. But it was this sense of community that Leah found both baffling...and exciting.
“It’s funny,” she mused. “I don’t think I ever realized I was lonely before. But I think I was. I don’t think you, or anyone else I’ve met here, suffer from loneliness.”
Edith looked at her with surprise. “Of course not!”
While the pizzas were cooking, the daughters of the family tidied the kitchen and set the table. Sarah brought laundry in, already folded, in a basket. Eliza fetched in several gallons of milk from the barn, where Ivan and the two older boys were milking the cows. Even the youngest boy “helped” by re-folding the already-folded dishtowels in a kitchen drawer. Rachel skimmed cream from yesterday’s milk and put the rest of the skimmed milk away to make cheese later, she told Leah. “Probably more mozzarella, since we like it on pizzas.”
Leah felt more and more helpless in the face of the family’s constant—and seemingly effortless—industry.
“There’s so much I don’t know how to do,” she finally blurted. “And I don’t know how I can help without being more of a hindrance.”
Sarah chuckled. “Here. You can cut the pizzas.” She pulled one out of the oven and slid it onto some large towels laid on the counter. Then she handed Leah a rotary cutter.
Ivan and the boys sidled in and washed up just as she finished cutting up the pizzas. “I love pizza!” announced the oldest boy with a grin.
Leah smiled at him. She hadn’t spent a lot of time around children before, but the Byler kids were terrific.
Seated, the family bowed their heads for silent prayer, then reached for slices of their favorites and began eating.
“So what did you do with Isaac?” Ivan spoke with his mouth full.
Besides argue? she thought. “He was having trouble understanding how to do some things on one of his computer programs,” she replied. “I showed him how to do it.”
“It’s nice to see his magazine grow.” Edith patted her stomach. “Though not as fast as this little one! But I’ve heard it’s being stocked in lots of Englisch stores.”
“You’d be surprised how many English have an interest in rural life,” agreed Leah. “I think if you’re trapped in a city, it’s only normal to want birdsong and stars at night.”
“Well, it’s more than just chirping birds and happy rainbows.” Rachel spoke with the first hint of sarcasm Leah had heard. “Folks have to understand it’s hard work. It’s just work we prefer.”
“That’s why I said this morning you’ll work off any food you eat,” added Edith. “We’re busy all the time. Most of us like it that way.”
“But you’re busy on your own schedules, doing whatever needs doing rather than working by anyone else’s schedule, such as working for a boss. I kind of like that idea.”
Ivan shrugged. “You get used to it.”
When supper was over, Edith told her brood, “Prayers in half an hour. Make sure you have your chores done.”
“Prayers?” Leah had a sinking feeling inside.
“Ivan leads us in Bible readings every night.” A concerned look spread over the older woman’s face. “But it’s in German. I hope you can follow.” Her face brightened. “But we have an English Bible. You can use that if it’s too hard to listen in German.”
Leah could hardly beg off attending the nightly ritual—the Bylers were being too kind to her—and if she was going to be part of this community for the next few months, she had to sit through whatever was thrown at her, including Bible readings.
It was almost dusk by the time the chores were finished and the family gathered in the spacious living room. The children sat on various articles of furniture, quiet and expectant. Edith pulled a book off a bookshelf. “Ivan, what verses?”
“I think from Hebrews, first chapter,” he replied. He lit an oil lamp on the small table next to him and pulled the large volume into his lap.
“Just follow as best you can.” Edith handed Leah a soft leather English Bible, worn with age.
Leah didn’t have the heart to tell the motherly woman she didn’t have the faintest clue how to find Hebrews, whether in German or in English. So that was another task she must set herself to learn—what books were found where in the Bible, so she could at least pretend to follow along.
“Nachdem vorzeiten Gott manchmal und mancherleiweise geredet hat zu den Vätern durch die Propheten,” began Ivan in a clear, melodious voice. Leah frantically tried to translate in her mind.
It was hopeless. Ivan read at an easy pace, but Leah’s fluency in German was not up to following the ancient, beautiful words. So she just sat, mesmerized by the majesty and cadence of the language.
She found herself watching the children. Ranging in age as they were from four to twenty, they all sat and listened attentively. How many Englisch children would be as quiet and focused while listening to a Bible chapter? What magic did the Amish use to raise such respectful kids? Again the journalist in her was piqued.
With a jolt, she realized what Isaac said earlier might be true—she might be staring at a whole new career. How many people wanted to know the answers to the questions forming in her mind?
She’d spent her career dealing with cutting-edge news that often dealt with the ugly, seamier side of life—“If it bleeds, it leads.” But untold millions of people quietly went about their business in ways that weren’t often profiled. Small triumphs such as doing laundry without electricity or having six children listen attentively to their father read the Bible—surely this would interest people who wanted to raise good kids or lighten their carbon footprint?
She had been so busy building her career as an investigative journalist that she had never thought about alternatives.
“Amein,” said Ivan, and closed the Bible.
“Danke, Daed.” Sarah rose and stretched. The other children got up, as well.
“That was beautiful,” said Leah, “though I couldn’t follow most of it.”
“Not even in the English Bible?” inquired Edith.
Leah didn’t admit she couldn’t locate the right spot. “Do you mind if I take this up to my room and read it in the evening?” she asked instead. “It would be easier to follow in English.”
“Ja, sure. Consider it yours, in fact.”
“Thank you.” Leah felt touched.
The Bylers lit a couple more lamps and settled down to quiet pursuits. “I think some popcorn, ja?” suggested Edith, and the children agreed.
The mother departed for the kitchen, and Leah heard sounds from the darkened room lit only by the lamp Edith carried with her. In a few minutes she heard a pop, then several, then a blizzard as the corn exploded. After the sound died down, Edith brought in an enormous bowl of popcorn along with several smaller bowls so they could all help themselves.
Filling their bowls, the younger children sprawled on the floor playing a game called Aggravation on a wooden board. The older children read. Edith took out a knitting basket. Ivan perused his Bible. In the midst of such quiet pursuits, Leah sat near Sarah and shared the light from a lamp. She opened the Bible she carried and read bits here and there. The popcorn, made with homemade butter, melted in her mouth.
These, too, were new experiences for her. The house was quiet except for the chatter of the children at their game and the sound of crunching popcorn. No music played, no television blared, no video games rocked the room. Instead she heard crickets through the open windows and saw fireflies flashing over the darkened fields. Once in a while Ivan made a comment to his wife about something he read, or Edith made a remark of her own.
This, she thought, was how every home in America must have been before radios were invented. Quiet was the norm. Conversation was the norm. Reading was the norm. Could this be something to write about? If not, it might be useful to simply record her thoughts and impressions and experiences.
“I wonder,” she dared venture, “if you have some paper and a pen I could use?”
“Ja, of course.” Rachel rose and reached for the materials on a nearby shelf and even supplied a clipboard.
“Thank you.” That’s another thing she’d have to get used to—writing by hand instead of on a computer.
She started by writing down what she remembered about doing laundry by hand. Once in a while she asked a question of Sarah—“What other kinds of ways did you do laundry before you had your current machine?” or “How do you make laundry detergent?” which sparked a spirited discussion among the women of the family.
How she longed to photograph the cozy family scene. Instead, she took a fresh sheet of paper and painted a verbal picture, writing down descriptions of the children, the games, the lamps, the chatter, the popcorn, the crickets.
How deprived her own childhood seemed by comparison. Not just because of her parents’ divorce and then death; but her own adult life, solitary and alone in her apartment, except for when she worked late.
“This is so nice,” she finally said aloud.
“What is?” asked Edith.
“Just the family, all together in this room. You have no idea how rare this is in the wider world.”
Ivan chuckled and closed his Bible. “What do the Englisch do in the evenings?”
“Watch television or play games on a computer. It seems not many people talk much anymore. Kids—” she gestured toward the children on the floor “—are either playing computer games or in their rooms. Gathering together as a family is...” She groped for the right word. “Special.”
Sarah wrinkled her nose. “This is why I came back after my rumspringa. I like being with my family.”
“You’ll have a whole new family next November,” teased Rachel.
“Ja, perhaps.” A blush stained her cheeks. “But we won’t be far away.”
“How far away is Aaron’s farm?” asked Leah.
Sarah gestured. “Only about a quarter mile in that direction. His property and our property are side by side.”
“You seem so sure,” murmured Leah.
Sarah looked puzzled. “Sure of what?”
“Sure that Aaron is the right man for you.”
“Of course he is. How could he not be?”
“But you’re so young!”
Edith interrupted. “Not really. And you have to understand—young people among the Amish already know they’re compatible in the critical areas of faith, family and finances. After that, it’s just a matter of finding someone who—how do the Englisch put it?—lights your fire.” She winked at Ivan.
Leah laughed at the blatant flirtation. “I guess that just hasn’t happened to me yet.”
“It’s also why Isaac hasn’t gotten married yet,” said Rachel. Leah thought she saw a gleam of mischief in the young woman’s eyes as she introduced the subject. “He’s just different enough that most women have their doubts about him.”
“And he’s a bit older than most men when they get married,” added Sarah.
“But he’s a good man,” Ivan said, as he chewed some popcorn. “Works hard. Takes care of his mother. Helps whenever he’s needed. He’s an asset to the community.”
“Even if he’s doing stuff on a computer?” asked Leah.
“Even so. But he didn’t start the magazine without first seeking permission from the bishop and the elders. He knows—none better—the problems computers can cause with the Englisch world. The ones you just talked about. He’s using it just for business, and using it so it doesn’t affect the community, which is why the bishop gave him permission.”
“This bishop—does his approval have to be sought for anything like that?”
“Bishops carry a heavy responsibility,” said Ivan. “They’re charged with maintaining traditions and behaviors that benefit the community, not the individual. If something is introduced that would be disruptive, a bishop won’t approve.” He took another handful of popcorn. “Any new technology we’ve introduced must be shown to be beneficial, such as generators to run the milking machines for dairies. If a dairy farmer loses his livelihood because he can’t compete with an Englisch dairy, then that’s a big loss and a detriment to the community. But it doesn’t mean the dairyman can light his home with his generator, or use it for frivolous purposes—just for milking his animals.”
Leah tapped her pen on the paper. “I think I’m beginning to see why it’s such a rare thing for Isaac to be using a computer.”
“Ja.” Ivan licked the butter off his fingers. “And he hasn’t abused it. It hasn’t affected the community in a bad way, and so far everyone likes the magazine.”
Edith yawned and glanced at the clock. “It’s late. This one should have been in bed already.” She put down her knitting and reached for her youngest son, whose head was nodding. “Tomorrow is a busy day.”
“Ja.” Sarah grinned at Leah. “You should see what we have in store for you tomorrow!”
“Like what?” Leah tried not to panic.
“You’ll see!” crowed Eliza, getting into the spirit.
Edith chuckled. “Don’t let them worry you. We won’t work you too hard.”
“But we won’t let you sleep in either,” said Sarah. “Up with the roosters!”
Leah felt herself flush. “I don’t normally sleep that late.”
“You’ll get into the routine soon enough.” Edith gathered up her son. The family filed out and washed up in the bathroom or at the kitchen sink.
Leah made sure to fetch the Bible before heading upstairs to bed. She had a chapter or two in Hebrews to locate and read.