by Tricia Goyer
Mose paused his chewing. “What’s that?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t talked enough about God.”
Mose put down his fork and shrugged. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
The waitress approached to refill his coffee, and Noah waved her away. He didn’t need coffee. He needed to share what was on his heart.
“I believe in our community. I appreciate the way we’ve chosen to live. But it’s not being Amish that will get you to heaven. Eternity is about accepting what Jesus has done. We can try to be good all we want—to follow the rules of the community—but no one will ever get it right.” Noah focused on Mose’s eyes. “I know I give you guys a hard time, but I mess up too—and often. No one can do everything right. That’s what we need God’s grace for.”
Mose nodded, but Noah could tell he was only half listening. He turned his attention to the pie menu. “Is it okay if I order pie to take back to Gerald and Atlee too?”
Noah released a heavy sigh. “Is that all?”
“Well, I don’t think Lovina will want a piece. She makes her own pies, right?”
“I’m not talking about the pie, Mose. I’m talking about God, and about how we need Him. Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?”
Mose shrugged. “I’ve been listening. It makes sense. What else do you need me to say?”
“I don’t need you to say anything, but I want you to come to me if you have questions. Living down here in Pinecraft I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of people not following the same Amish rules, and it may not make sense with how you’ve been raised, but what I’ve come to discover is that it’s not the rules that matter. Rules don’t save us. Grace does. It’s not what we do but our trust in Jesus that determines where we will spend eternity.”
Again Mose nodded, but it didn’t seem as if Noah’s words were truly sinking in.
Lovina’s sister Faith approached with the bill. She tried to make small talk, but it was clear, even to her, that Mose wasn’t in a talkative mood. Noah handed her cash for the ticket, not knowing what he could say. Faith took it, thanked him for the tip, and walked away disappointed.
Mose rose from the chair. Tension was clear on his face. Maybe the tension was from the prank earlier. Maybe the realization that Mose couldn’t pull his old pranks was finally sinking in. Or maybe it was the conversation Noah just had with him. Did Noah’s words battle within Mose’s soul? It was hard to tell.
Noah rose from the seat, and they made their way through the restaurant. Mose held a paper bag with three slices of pie inside. When they got outside Mose paused and turned to Noah.
“Thanks for lunch, Noah, and before we get back to the warehouse there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. After we finish the warehouse I’m going to head to Miami Beach. I’ve heard there are lots of good construction jobs there.”
Noah’s chest tightened, and it felt as if someone was trying to squeeze his heart. “I—I don’t understand.”
“I know you’re trying to help me, I really do. But even if news of today’s prank doesn’t get back to my parents in the next few days, or even in a few months, they’ll find out about that or about something else eventually. I’m just tired of trying to be perfect all the time. It seems like I can do one hundred things right and only one thing wrong, and everyone jumps down my throat about it.”
Noah placed a hand on Mose’s shoulder. “That’s not what’s happening. I hope you know how much I appreciate you guys. I—”
Mose shrugged off his touch. “Listen.” He held up his hands. “I know you mean well, I really do. I just need some time on my own, to figure it out my own way. I thought I’d be doing that by coming to Florida, but this place is more connected to home than I thought. Everyone still knows everyone else’s business.”
Noah nodded. He wanted to bring up again how important God’s grace was—not the opinions of men—but he knew that Mose wasn’t in the right mind to receive it.
He’d known all along that if Mose decided not to stay there was nothing he could do to make him.
They continued walking back toward the pie shop and Noah dared to ask Mose one more question.
“What about Gerald and Atlee?”
Mose shrugged. “They don’t know anything about my plans. I haven’t mentioned it.”
“Do you think they’ll go with you?”
“Probably not. I heard both of them talking and they’re looking forward to seeing their parents, who are coming down during the season. And I think they’re still sweet on some Amish girls too. I figure with me out of the way there won’t be anything that’ll keep them from being baptized. I must be a bad influence or something.”
“I hate to see you go off on your own like that.”
“Yeah, well, just keep up the good work with Gerald and Atlee. I think you’re close to roping them in…especially with Lovina’s pretty sisters coming around all the time.”
They neared the pie shop, and Noah could see there wasn’t anything he could say that would change Mose’s mind. He’d already checked out—if not with his body, then with his mind. If anything was going to get through to Mose it would have to be God’s doing. Noah had done all he could, and it hadn’t worked.
But Noah couldn’t think about that now. He had the pie shop to finish up. He also had to make things right with Lovina. He’d given her his heart, but he hadn’t fully revealed the truth of his past. Maybe he was more like Mose than he thought. Maybe he was afraid of everyone knowing the real him. Or at least he was afraid of Lovina knowing.
With a groan Noah sank onto the bed. For once the guys were silent in the other room. Their mood was somber tonight.
He leaned forward and clutched his forehead in both hands. His heart was still doing a double beat in his chest. It’s my fault…I don’t seem to be getting through to them. And now Mose’s leaving is my fault too.
His whole goal in working on the pie shop was to help the guys. To spend time with them. To train them. To teach them the satisfaction of doing a job well. To mentor them in their relationships with God. And the truth was that he’d let his mind get caught up in other things.
At the thought of Lovina and her wide, brown eyes and her lips that so easily curled into a smile, his chest warmed with a love he’d never felt before.
That was the problem. He was letting his heart get in the way of his head. If he didn’t keep his focus, the woman he loved would be hurt the most. If he kept letting his heart lead the way, her pie shop would suffer. Not to mention that he was already failing miserably with Mose, Gerald, and Atlee.
Lord, give me wisdom.
A Scripture verse filtered through his mind. If he’d heard the verse from his Aunt Karen’s lips once, he’d heard it one hundred times. Aunt Karen had been from a Mennonite family, and had joined the Amish church when she’d fallen in love with Uncle Roy. She’d done her best to fit in with the Amish ways, but the people in their community—and even their family—thought she was too “Bible smart” for her own good.
“All that Bible knowledge just makes her think she’s better than the rest of us. It’s pride, I tell you,” Noah’s mem had said.
Yet even when others held her at arm’s length, Noah found himself drawn to his aunt. With ten siblings he’d always felt like just another face around the dinner table, but Aunt Karen always took time to ask about him. She always took time to tell him stories and to remind him of God’s love.
He’d thought of her words during his darkest moments, sitting alone in the jail cell. When his mind cleared after the accident, he liked to think that the gracious God his aunt talked about was more accurate than the God the Amish minister spoke of. The God who kept track of all his rights and wrongs and would one day weigh them on his entry into heaven.
Aunt Karen had been one of the first to visit him when he got out of jail. She’d gone with him to see the damage the accident had done to the shop too. And it was her words that h
ad sent him in the right direction.
“Noah, you can choose the type of person you’re remembered for. Wrongs can be made right. But remember you can’t do it alone.”
He’d clung to those words back then. “Wrongs can be made right.” He’d done that to the best of his ability. He’d rebuilt the gift shop, and he’d set his mind and heart on working with the teens. But now, as he sat in the dark of his room, he thought of those words again. You can’t do it alone. Was that what he’d been doing? He knew it was. And what had he been trying to prove?
He thought about his words to Mose earlier in the day. He’d told Mose that the most important thing was one’s relationship with God, but had he lived like that was the truth? Not really. The weight of all he’d said and done—and hadn’t said and done—weighed like a ton of bricks on his shoulders.
God, I’ve failed. Failed You. Failed them.
He picked up his Bible from his nightstand and pressed it to his chest. He didn’t need to figure everything out on his own. He couldn’t save the teens. He couldn’t save Mose. “God, I want to invite You back in. I’m sorry I’ve been trying to figure it out myself.”
He thought about the distant look in Mose’s face, and it broke his heart. He knew that if Mose accepted God, all his human relationships would work themselves out.
“Whatever it takes, Lord. Do what You need to capture their hearts.”
He hated to think what that might mean. Too many people had to get to their lowest point before they turned to God—just like he had. Yet outside comfort mattered little compared to inner peace.
“Do whatever it takes,” he whispered again. It was a hard prayer to pray, but the only one that would make any difference. Only God could help Mose now. And a peace settled over Noah’s heart.
Hand-Breaded Pork Chops and Creamy Country Gravy
2 tablespoons butter
½ cup vegetable oil, divided
6 thick pork chops
1 cup milk or cream
2 cups all-purpose flour
salt and pepper
½ onion, sliced
Creamy Country Gravy
meat drippings
1 tablespoon butter
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour (more may be used)
1½ cups milk (I use hot milk)
salt and pepper
Heat cast iron skillet with butter and ¼ cup oil. Dip pork chops one at a time in a bowl of milk. Dredge in flour. Season chops with salt and pepper. Place in heated pan along with onion slices. Cook until browned on each side and meat is no longer pink. Add more butter and remaining oil as needed until the last pork chop is cooked. Remove chops and onions and arrange on platter. To the drippings in pan, add butter and 3 tablespoons flour and slowly stir in milk. Now, take a little taste with a spoon. If it’s not quite perfect add more salt and pepper. Those are all the spices needed for this pork chop dinner. The only thing that makes this dish better is to serve it with homemade creamy, red-skin mashed potatoes.
Red-Skin Mashed Potatoes
8 medium red potatoes
1 stick butter
1 clove garlic, minced
1-2 cups milk—depending on size of potatoes
salt and pepper to taste
Boil potatoes with skin on until soft. Melt butter in a saucepan with garlic. Lightly simmer until butter is melted and garlic is lightly browned. In a mixer (or by hand), mix potatoes with garlic butter, adding the milk slowly until potatoes reach desired consistency. Season with salt and pepper.
Twenty-Seven
Be life long or short, its completeness depends on what it was lived for.
AMISH PROVERB
Lovina pulled off her soiled apron and tossed it into the hamper in the laundry room. She touched her kapp, making sure it was still in place, and then hurried into the kitchen where fifteen pies were lined up. She’d made her final decisions for the menu and had baked all day. Now they were going to taste them. They’d had a simple dinner of split pea soup, knowing that their bellies would soon be full of pie.
Hope and Faith were finishing washing the dishes. Joy stood next to an ironing board set up next to the dining room table. She was painstakingly ironing the curtain valances that would soon be hung in the large windows of the pie shop.
Grace had set out Mem’s good dishes and had taken some photos of the pies lined up on the counter. She’d purchased the camera with the money she’d been saving. Dat still didn’t like the idea of Grace owning a camera, but he’d come to terms with it since his youngest daughter was using it for business. Maintaining Amish ways was important, but so was making sure Lovina’s pie shop succeeded.
Mem was eying the pies. She held a knife in one hand, stopping next to a sweet potato pie. Lovina had changed the recipe a little and it looked perfectly golden and delicious. It smelled fanastic too. All the pies did.
Mem licked her lips. “Can I cut into this one now? I smelled this baking this morning, and I’ve wanted to taste it all day.”
“Not yet.” Lovina placed a soft hand on her mother’s arm. “We have one more guest who should be coming.” She moved to the window and looked out, but she didn’t see Noah. It was already twenty minutes later than she’d told him to come, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to hold everyone back much longer.
Lovina smiled to herself at the thought of seeing him again. After the incident with Mose yesterday he’d been distracted all afternoon. Now she couldn’t wait to see him smiling and enjoying her pies. She’d baked them thinking of him.
Lovina glanced back from the window and noticed Mem’s eyes on her. Her smile fell.
“So Noah Yoder is coming over? You should have warned us.”
“Warned you?” Lovina placed a hand on her hip and turned to face her mother. “Why would you need a warning? You are delighted when any of our other Amish neighbors stop by—expected or not.”
“There are things about Noah Yoder you do not know. Have you ever asked what he’s hiding from you?” Mem cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Lovina didn’t look away. Faith and Hope paused their washing and rinsing and turned. Grace put down her camera, and from the corner of her eye Lovina could see that Joy had stopped ironing too. Everyone seemed to be waiting.
Lovina pressed her lips together, trying to figure out how to respond. Mem had made it clear that Noah had a questionable past, and she too wondered why he hadn’t told her about it, but Lovina had faith he would. When the time was right he would.
“I trust Noah, Mem. We’ve been busy with the pie shop. The day will come soon when we’ll have the chance to talk about everything that needs to be discussed.”
“That may be so, Lovina, but it seems too late to me. From the look on your face you’ve already given the young man more of your heart than you should have. I just hate to see your heart broken—that’s all.”
“But don’t you want us to get married, Mem?” It was Hope who jumped in now. Her voice was sweet, but Lovina could tell that Hope was holding back. “Hasn’t that been your wish—that we fall in love? That we get married? We know how hard it must be to have so many unmarried daughters.”
“Of course I want my daughters to get married.” Mem jutted out her chin. “But it matters who our daughters marry, right John?” She turned to her husband.
Lovina’s dat looked up, and she could tell from the look on his face that this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be pulled into. He just nodded, but offered no comment.
“Noah’s a gut man, Mem. He’s a hard worker. He’s thoughtful and kind…” Lovina’s words spilled out. They were things she’d wanted to say for so long, and she could no longer hold them back. “I think you’d really appreciate him if you took the chance to get to know him.”
Mem’s eyebrow lifted skeptically. “He fixes up things, Lovina. He hauls old junk. Do you really think he’ll be able to provide for a family like that?”
“He’ll do his best. He always does his best.” Lovina’s lower lip trembled
. “And his work is a beautiful thing. He finds worth in things that have been cast away. He sees value in things others overlook.” Like me, she wanted to add.
“Yes, well, maybe I’d believe you if he showed up when he said he would. I’ve seen you watching the clock for the last thirty minutes.” Mem put down the knife and moved to the table to sit by Dat. “A lot can be said by how one lives his daily life, Lovina. How one handles his responsibilities.”
Lovina didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t want to argue, and she was also frustrated that Noah was late. She wanted him to impress her parents. She wanted them to like him. Had he forgotten? Had something happened at the pie shop? She hoped not.
She picked up the knife Mem had put down and moved to the sweet potato pie. She didn’t know what was keeping Noah, but she did know how to sweeten Mem up before his arrival.
“You’re right, Mem. I’m not sure what’s keeping Noah, but it shouldn’t keep us from celebrating. It’s time to start sampling the pies.” And with a forced smile, Lovina cut a large slice of sweet potato pie for Mem. And then an equally large piece for herself. At least it would keep her occupied until Noah showed up.
If Noah showed up.
Noah took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He hated that he’d lost track of time. He was supposed to be here an hour ago for pie tasting. He and the guys had been so busy setting up all the tables and chairs that he hadn’t noticed the sun sinking lower in the horizon. Noah heard shuffling footsteps on the other side of the door. Slowly it opened.
“Noah, glad you could make it. I imagine you put in a long day at the pie shop. Come in.” John Miller opened the front door, but the living room was dim. Behind him two lanterns lit the kitchen, and the sound of women’s voices chirped, rising every now and then with laughter.
