Leigh Bale - Her Amish Christmas Choice

“Not that I know of. Mr. Nelson told me he would send us one of the best carpenters in the area. He said the man would work hard and wouldn’t cheat us,” she said.

“That’s probably true. The Amish are brutally honest. At least they have that quality going for them.” Mom said the words with contempt, as though it was a failing rather than a virtue. That piqued Julia’s curiosity even more. Since Dallin had lied to her on several occasions, she was glad to hear that she could trust Martin.

“How do you seem to know so much about them?” Julia asked.

Mom shrugged and continued to gaze out the filthy windows, her eyes narrowed and filled with doubt. “I knew some Amish people once. They were some of the most cruel, judgmental people I ever met. I don’t want anything to do with them again.”

Julia flinched. Wow. That sounded a bit harsh.

“Surely that was an isolated case. There are good and bad people in all walks of life, right?”

Mom hesitated several moments. “I suppose so.”

“Besides, I’ve already hired Martin. I can’t fire him now without just cause,” Julia said.

Mom didn’t reply, which wasn’t odd. She was a quiet woman, keeping most of her thoughts to herself. Instead, Julia faced her mother and gave her a brief hug. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s going to be fine.”

Mom nodded and showed a tremulous smile. After all, she was still mourning Dad. “Yes, of course, you’re right. I’m just being silly.”

“Ahem, excuse me.”

The two women whirled around and found Martin standing in the doorway, hat in hand.

“Oh, Martin. I want you to meet my mother, Sharon,” Julia said.

“Mrs. Rose.” He nodded courteously, his gaze never wavering.

Mom just looked at him with a sober expression. Julia didn’t understand. It wasn’t like her mother to be unkind or to disapprove of someone without knowing them first.

“Hank and I are gonna take a brief lunch break, if that’s all right,” Martin said.

“Yes, of course,” Julia said. “In fact, I was just coming to ask if you’d like a sandwich.”

“ Ne, danke. We brought our own lunch.” Without waiting for her reply, he disappeared from view.

Mom stepped closer to the door. A blast of sunlight gleamed through a small patch of glass that wasn’t covered by grunge and Sharon lifted a hand to shade her eyes. She and Julia watched for a moment as Martin retrieved a red personal-size cooler from his buggy. Hank joined him as the two sat on the edge of the porch. Had Martin been so certain that Julia would hire him that he had packed a lunch? Or did he always come into town prepared?

“What’s troubling you, Mom?” Julia asked.

Maybe Mom feared Martin might try to steal from them the way Dallin had done. It hadn’t been much money but enough that it had made their lives more difficult. Mom had loved Dallin and Debbie, too. They’d become part of the family. Or so Julia had thought. They’d eloped just three weeks before Dad’s death. Because he’d been on so much pain medication, Dad didn’t know what Dallin had done. But the final blow was when he didn’t even attend her father’s funeral. Dallin and Debbie’s betrayal had devastated her and Mom.

“No, of course not. I have no doubt he’ll do a fine job. It’s just that…”

“What?” Julia urged.

Sharon waved a hand and showed a wide smile. Reaching out, she caressed Julia’s cheek. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just missing your father, that’s all. In the past, he always dealt with such things. But you’re doing a fine job. I’m sure it’ll be okay. And now, I’d better return to work. That back room isn’t going to clean itself out.”

“Mom, why don’t you go lie down for a while? I know your joints are hurting and I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“I’m fine, dear.” Sharon limped toward the hallway leading to the back of the building. Julia watched her go, worried about her despite her assurances.

When she looked back at Martin, Julia saw that he’d laid a clean cloth on the porch and pulled out several slices of homemade bread, ham, two golden pears and thick wedges of apple pie. After compiling the bread and meat into sandwiches, Hank eagerly picked one up and almost took a bite. Martin stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. Without a word, Martin removed his hat and bowed his head reverently. Hank did likewise. For the count of thirty, the two held still and Julia realized they must be praying.

She envied the close sibling relationship they shared. There was something so serene about their bent heads that she felt a rash of goose bumps cover her arms. Then Martin released a breath and they began to eat. While Martin chewed thoughtfully, Hank’s cheeks bulged with food and he glanced around with distraction.

At that moment, Martin looked up and saw her. Julia’s face flushed with embarrassed heat. How rude of her to stand here and watch them. Yet, she couldn’t move away. She felt transfixed with curiosity. Especially when Martin gave her a warm smile. With his back turned, Hank didn’t notice her. Taking his sandwich, he hopped up and ran to climb the elm tree. Some unknown force caused Julia to step outside to speak with Martin.

“Um, I hope you don’t think me impolite but can I ask what you were doing a few minutes ago?” she asked.

Martin tilted his head to the side and blinked in confusion. “You mean when I was working on the porch?”

She shook her head. “No, before you ate. You bowed your heads for a long time. Were you praying?”

He nodded and bit into his pear, chewed for a moment, then swallowed. “ Ja , we always pray before a meal. To thank the Lord for His bounty and to ask a blessing on our food. Don’t you do the same?”

How interesting. How quaint, yet authentic.

“No, I’m afraid not. I wasn’t raised that way,” she answered truthfully.

But even as she spoke, she wondered why not. It seemed so appropriate to thank God for all that He had given her. Rather than being odd, it seemed right.

She stepped nearer. “What do you say in your prayers?”

“That depends.” He indicated that she should sit nearby on the porch and she did.

“On what?”

“ Ach , sometimes we say the Lord’s prayer before a meal. If there is trouble brewing at home or a special blessing we need, I often mention that to Gott and ask for His help. Other times, we pray at church meetings as a congregation and as a familye . And still other times, we say personal prayers in private. Most of our prayers are silent but they all differ, depending on their purpose and what is in my heart.”

Yes, she could understand that. She’d oftentimes carried a prayer inside her heart but had never spoken one out loud. Because frankly, she didn’t know how to do so.

“Do you pray often?” she asked.

“ Ja , many times each day. Why do you ask?”

With her father’s death, Mom’s illness, Dallin’s betrayal, financial problems and their recent move to Colorado, she’d needed to know God was nearby. To know that He was watching over them and she wasn’t alone. But her prayers were always in silence, spoken within.

She shrugged. “I was just curious. I wasn’t really raised with prayer in my daily life. But there are times when I speak to God in my heart.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “You believe in Gott then?”

“Yes, I do.” Giving voice to her belief deepened her conviction. That God lived and was conscious of His children now in modern times, just as He had been in ancient times. She’d never really gone to church, yet she had decided for herself that she believed in a loving creator who was conscious of her needs. But unfortunately, she knew very little about Him.