But I cannot sleep. So here on the porch I look out at the night, and wish that the air was not so still.
Sometimes when I cannot sleep, I read. So I will read the Martyrs Mirror, and reflect on those who gave their lives for what we believe.
I will sleep, soon.
September 14
I did not write yesterday. And the Sabbath worship was good today. We gathered at the Sorensons’, and the room was filled with the old songs and the honest smell of sweat as we sat in silent prayer. Deacon Sorenson preached the first and the second sermons. They were good and simple. He was a good choice for preacher, and he mixes the duties of deacon and preacher with grace.
I know all men are to preach if they are chosen, and that it is not to ever be a source of pride or arrogance. But just as some men are better in the fields and others better with tools, some speak better than others.
With all gathered in together, it became very hot. It was easy to forget in the preaching and in the singing, but as we sat in silent prayer, the heat was all around us. After a time old Mrs. Miller collapsed and had to be cooled down with water. But the women took care of that.
Perhaps the greatest blessing was that Sadie was calm again, and she even sang. Just a little bit, but I could hear her. It made Hannah smile. I was glad.
But then I was also ashamed, ashamed about this very thing I do now.
I am wondering about this writing.
I see back six months, and I was wondering then. For so many years, I was sure that it was prideful, my secret sin, my shame. As a boy, I was convicted of that from the sermons of my uncle. Today, Deacon Sorenson’s preaching was simple and good, but though he did not mean to do so, he stirred an old hurt in me. Much like a cold, wet day does not mean to make that long broken bone ache. It was not his fault.
Deacon Sorenson preached about secrets and shame, and about how nothing can be hidden from God. He taught about how hiding thoughts keeps us from being together, and staying true to the Order, and to Christ. None of that is wrong, I think. Much of what he had to say was right and true.
There is shame that we feel that is a good shame. It comes as we see how we hurt others and ignore God. But there is a bad shame that is used to hurt others and turn them away from God. I used to be told that this act, this act I am doing right now in writing and remembering, worse yet in English, was just such a shameful thing.
It was what I was told, back when I was a boy. I was told it so much that part of me still wants to be ashamed. That teaching cut a deep furrow in me. Like all people, I cling to my past, and even to the pain of my past. It is who I am. It seems hard to believe, here in this place.
Writing about crops served a purpose, my uncle would say. About yourself? It is selfishness. It was why he and others left their homes, and formed their own community. Others were not as holy. Others had abandoned the one right path, the real Ordnung.
I can hear the prayer my uncle would have me be praying. “Lord, keep me from this,” I would say. “Silence my desire. Make me your servant. Guide me to your will. This will be the last of these entries. I will cast this away. In Jesus’ name, Amen.” I can hear it. But I cannot pray it. I will not pray it.
I know that in this place, I will not be asked to pray it. That is why we came here, to this place, to this district, to this old settlement.
And I will be allowed to remember. I am grateful for that here. And grateful for Preacher Sorenson, for the day of contemplation.
AFTER OUR EVENING PRAYERS, Sadie came over to me, and whispered in my ear.
“It is all right to remember, Dadi. It is important.” I was startled, and pulled back. “God says so,” she said, smiling.
Then she went to get ready for bed. She did not say another thing.
Funny, how she knows. And again, I shiver, as if suddenly cold, at what that might mean.
September 15
Today was again hot, the sky a dull, cloudless blue, the sun set in it bright and fierce and terrible. Jacob and I worked awhile in the morning, and we were able to make some progress. But the going was slow, and by noon the workshop was an oven.
Sadie was able to work with Hannah in the kitchen this morning, canning preserves and making apple butter. She seemed a little better.
The oats are coming in, not the best, but coming in.
I went across to the Fishers, who were offering up wood from their fallen oak. I took a tenth of a cord, no more, for wood has been easy to come by. Joseph asked if they could come visiting tomorrow, and I said sure.
Nettie and Pearl were so hot when we returned, mouths all foam and eyes a little wild. I watered and splashed them with buckets of cool well water.
Together we worked in the orchard in the early evening, gathering in five bushels of apples. Our trees have taken some damage from the storms, and the apples are smaller and less plentiful this year. But the damage is not too much, and the water in the well still holds, and we are not in need. The Lord is gracious with his harvest, still, and it is enough for our family and our simple needs.
Although we would be blessed with a cooling rain.
September 16
The rain did not come, but the winds blew, and the day is cooler.
This early morning, after the milking, Jacob and I slaughtered a pig, the big one. Much of the morning was cutting and preparing, and setting the meat into the freezer.
There will be more, but it was the whole work of our morning. It took longer than anticipated, and our breakfast was no longer warm, but Hannah was forgiving, even as she chided us.
After breakfast, we finished building the last of the order. Mike will be pleased. I sent Jacob to the community phone, so that we could tell Mike.
Hannah prepared simple food, slaw and some meat pies, and Sadie helped, as the Fishers were to come in the late afternoon. Joseph and Rachel and their five, plus Rachel pregnant again, they have been blessed and fruitful. And they are still not old. There will be more children, a larger family.
Their oldest, also Rachel, is fourteen just like our Sadie, then Fritz and Hosheah, then Mariam, then Micah.
It was a lively afternoon. The Fishers came in their wagon and a buggy, and Jacob was at once off with the boys to play. Sadie was calm, and she and Rachel went to talking and walking for a while, as Hannah and the older Rachel rested with lemonade before cooking for the evening.
Joseph and I sat, and we talked. He was worried about the Johansons, who operate the 375 acres just to the south of his own. They had always had problems, and always been the sort of family that struggles, even in the good times when the harvest was good and the money was plentiful. Even the best blessings of Providence cannot turn a soul from sorrow if it has set itself down that path.