by Jerry
I wonder how Lonnie’s dad is by now.
I received your letter and card today, which was a nice surprise. That card is beautiful. Thank you.
I hope your school attendance gets better soon.
I arrived back from a tramp through the back fields. One doesn’t get as much exercise in the winter when there’s no outside field work, so I took time for a long walk. Plus, it’s snowing nicely. I filled the bird feeder while I was outside, as the snow is staying on the ground now. We have the usual barn sparrows who use the feeder—the pesky things—plus black-capped chickadees, cardinals, a pair of wrens, and I even saw a house finch tonight.
It was a nice walk, bundled up as I was in one of Dad’s pants, the legs rolled up under my dress, and the three coats I squeezed into, with a big scarf topping off the outfit. You would have laughed, I know, but you might as well get used to this if you’re going to marry me. I love long walks in the snowy fields.
Oh, I wish I could be with you tomorrow. A long buggy drive home from church with you at the reins would be just the thing a girl needs.
With all my love,
Naomi
January 17
Hi, dearest Naomi,
Here’s another letter from me. I received two from you today, which is irritating when they pile up like that. I know it’s the mail’s fault, not yours, but there I sat for three whole days sweating it out, waiting for another letter, and then two come at once. Patience, Eugene, patience.
I’m a little nervous, I guess, thinking about what I wrote you a few letters back—that my parents have objections to our marriage this summer. I really shouldn’t have told you that. They had the right to express their fears without my passing it on to you. I think it’s perfectly normal for parents to have fears about their children and when they should marry. On my part, I never expect to find anyone better than you or someone who suits me better. They won’t object to our wedding next year. I really wouldn’t worry about it.
And please don’t get nervous around them, either. I really should have kept my big mouth shut. I can imagine you’ll try to act extra nice and end up all tense and out of sorts. They really do love you.
Dawn, Norman, and Dakota are back in school and scrambling to catch up. I’m also scrambling to get checking their schoolwork done in the evenings so they can see by the next morning if there are any problems.
The chairman of the school board brought an electric typewriter to the schoolhouse tonight. I felt like a little boy with a new toy. The thing is a whiz compared with the old manual typewriter I was using. I think Noah had the manual one along on the ark with him and left it in Iowa.
Tuesday…
The eighth graders have run into problems with their arithmetic. This takes extra time in class, which runs other things shorter, but so it goes. Try explaining how to find the area of a rectangle, the volume of a rectangle, the circumference of a circle, the area of a circle, the volume of a cylinder, the volume of a sphere, the area of a sphere, and then its outside surface area. And doing all this in a few fifteen-minute time slots. Anyway, we survived.
The new typewriter will surely have me spoiled by the end of the term. It will be difficult going back to the old manual typewriters at home after this luxurious machine. Here you only touch the keys instead of pounding down with great vigor.
On an unrelated subject, when I write Miller on your letters, I have often thought what a wonderful name that was and what a shame you should lose it someday. But how can I help it that I love you?
With all my heart,
Eugene
January 18
Dearest Eugene,
This is not going to be an easy letter to write. Nor will it be easy for you to read. The truth is, I don’t think we should marry this summer. I think waiting will be better for all concerned, and I don’t want you to try to persuade me differently because I have thought about this a great deal, and prayed, and, yes, cried too. Maybe if we wait your mom will eventually be ready to let you go (although part of me doubts she’ll ever be ready). And maybe by that time they would think me mature enough and worthy of being your wife (although part of me doubts that too). I’m feeling so bad about this, but I’m in such confusion and agony, and you are so far away that I can’t see or talk with you.
Did you really have to teach at that school? This is never going to end, or so it feels. I can’t tell you how confusing this all is or how many tears I’ve cried since I received that last letter. And yes, you should have told me about it. I’m so glad you did. If we love each other, we must tell each other these things and work them through. Only how? That seems to be the problem. For now, though, we had better call the wedding off. I just can’t think what else to do.
What really hurts is that your parents don’t approve of me or think me worthy of you. That cuts all the way down to the heart. I don’t think I can live like that—with my husband’s parents thinking their son messed up by planning to marry me.
Maybe you can find yourself a nice, wonderful Mennonite girl out there somewhere who will meet their approval. And there are a few girls around here your mom seems to think are great. I’m sure you can do much better than you are doing with me.
I don’t want you to think that anyone put me up to this because they didn’t. I’ve thought this out myself, and it seems the best thing to do.
And I still love you,
Naomi
January 19
My dearest Naomi,
I arrived home with the high hopes of finding a letter from you, but of course there was none. The rest of the day suddenly seemed exceedingly boring until I remembered there was Bible study tonight, which helped a little.
The best thing I could do was reread some of your old letters. I get so lonesome for you out here on these flat plains. As I reread your letters, I see a lot of places where I made blunders in the things I wrote you. I hope you have patience with me because I will try to improve myself as time goes on.
It does seem harder this way, with us apart and trying to write letters. I hope this venture wasn’t some big mistake, some dream I ran after trying to do something interesting with my life. I know a farmer’s life is also interesting, so I’m not knocking that. I do plan to settle down after my next year of teaching. We should have plenty of time then to work this out and to enjoy our lives together.
And please tell me how you feel. Don’t try to protect my feelings. Improving oneself can be painful, I know, so I don’t want to shy away from that.
This morning Lonnie and Luella took one of their friends to the airport in Chicago. I would have loved to go along for the drive as I’ve never been in Chicago, but work comes before pleasure. I guess I should act like the children do—taking off at the slightest excuse. Perhaps if they would see the teacher act like they do, they would know how it feels. I get so exasperated. If they even have a sore throat or say they do, they stay home. Sickness follows all of them around like the plague, jumping out from dark corners to drag the poor pupils home from the schoolhouse. Am I being nasty? Yes, I suppose I am. I will quit now and think nice thoughts about them.
Anyhow, Lonnie and Luella had to leave at 4:00 this morning, which left me by myself for breakfast. Luella said that Janie could come up and fix breakfast for me. I said no she wouldn’t, and Luella said yes she would. After we went around the circle a few times, Luella gave in and left me with detailed instructions on where things are. I think the poor woman is afraid I will burn down her kitchen. She’ll probably be expecting bowls to be melted to the burners, at the very least, and grease spots all the way to the ceiling. Perhaps I should play some trick on her, but I can’t think of anything good enough that wouldn’t be courting disaster, so I will leave the joke department to others more skilled than I am.
Luella left all the food items on the counter for me, so I heated the water for the oatmeal, toasted a piece of bread, and set the bacon out to be fried. While the pan was warming, I tossed in a piece of butter, and the hou
se promptly filled with smoke. It was no trick either, just stupid of me. I quickly opened all the kitchen windows and waved a towel around. If Janie had been driving by on the road, I’m sure she would have come racing in to save Luella’s kitchen from the hands of the clumsy schoolteacher.
Luella usually prepares poached eggs for breakfast, but I took the opportunity to fry the eggs. Hopefully that isn’t breaking the diet rules or it will create a stink when Luella comes back. I tried to hide the evidence so there wouldn’t be a discussion on the virtues of poached versus fried eggs. Lonnie likes his eggs poached, and that’s fine with me, but if Luella finds out my preference, she will think she has to make fried eggs every morning.
I washed the frying pan to remove the evidence, but I couldn’t do anything about the small kettle that shows no signs of poached eggs. So I placed the kettle close to the sink, figuring Luella would think I had cleaned it, but it didn’t work out that way. When I arrived home from school, one of the first things out of her mouth was, “Eugene, did you fry your eggs?”
Now she’s going to fry my eggs every morning, end of discussion, and no amount of argument would persuade her otherwise.
At the supper table, Lonnie joined in the discussion of poached versus fried eggs. Fried eggs are very unhealthy, he said. I countered with one of my dad’s arguments, which isn’t much of any argument, it’s more of a joke. Dad always said that poached eggs take forty years to digest. Lonnie laughed himself silly over that, and we left the discussion on friendly terms.
Thursday…
I arrived home from school and still no letter. Monday was the last time I received a letter, so I hope nothing is wrong. Sorry for my worries, and I hope I don’t pressure you to write all the time. It’s just that your letters are such a joy and pleasure.
There is an ice skating planned tonight for the youth, and I’m going, of course. It’s been almost a year since I’ve been on skates. Hopefully, I still know how and won’t go sliding around on my knees or bottom. I do so wish you and your cheerful smile could be here.
The Bible study last night was on the fifteenth chapter of John, the first eight verses. The main point Stan made was that Christ is the one true vine, but there are many other vines one can be attached to.
Someone asked the question concerning verse 2: “Can a branch that is broken off be grafted back in?” Stan thought that it could.
Someone else asked what the purging was in the last part of verse 2. Stan said that the way he defines purging is trouble that God sends into our lives to purify us. He feels that if trouble comes from our own mistakes there isn’t much purifying value in it, but if trouble comes from doing good, this has value with God. The way to tell the difference, he said, is the issue of control. If we can stop our troubles by changing our ways, then we are producing the troubles ourselves. Otherwise, it’s from God and we need to submit.
Stan commented on verse 7, that instead of being so concerned with asking things of God, we should be sure we meet the two stated conditions. First—“if we abide in Jesus,” and second—“if Jesus’ words abide in us.” After that we can ask what we will and trust that God will answer our prayers according to what is best for us. All this seems more interesting in a group discussion, but I wanted to share it with you.
Luella visited school today for the first time. She was there from the time we started until noon. I’m sure there were plenty of faults to see if she compared me to their other teachers, but she didn’t say anything negative. Maybe she was just being nice.
I love you,
Eugene
January 20
My dearest Eugene,
I’m wondering if you’ve received my letter yet since your last letter sounded so cheerful. The tension in my chest is something awful. I wish I hadn’t written the letter, but I did. So I guess I’ll look on the bright side of things and hope I brought something up that needed to be dealt with.
Last night the young folks had a skating party at Benny Miller’s pond. I went to break myself out of my blues. Don was busy at home and couldn’t make the drive. I was reminded at the gathering of how much I love our young people. They had lanterns set all around the pond and most of the ice shoveled off. We played prisoner’s base for a while and then just skated for the fun of it.
You seem so far away, as if I haven’t seen you in years, and yet Christmas hasn’t been that long ago.
Today I didn’t have to work, so I caught up on the ironing and mending. There’s not much to do on the farm in the winter other than chores. Dad keeps cutting back on the milk cows when one goes dry. I’m not sure what his plans are. Everything feels all mixed up right now.
I filled the bird feeders and watched the birds for a while until I got too cold standing outside. They are lovely creatures to watch, their perky little jumps and their feathers all fluffed in the cold. It brought tears to my eyes, but I was really crying for other reasons. The birds normally cheer me up.
Mom wants to make coffee ice cream tonight as a treat for Dad. It’s his birthday tomorrow, and she wants to catch him by surprise. I don’t think it will work. I saw him looking in the cupboards this morning after Mom had left the kitchen. I think he knows she’s making something for him. Ice cream can’t be far from his suspicions.
I have to babysit tomorrow, likely till midnight, which I’m glad for. It gives me something to do.
Friday…
I don’t know what to write tonight. It’s after midnight already, and I feel very awful for writing that letter. Another of your letters arrived today, but I don’t think you’ve received the nasty one yet. What you say softens my heart, but what’s done is done. I just hope I don’t hurt you too much.
I should never have let my mind blow things so out of proportion. And I thank you in advance for being understanding. I can already tell you are going to be. Let me assure you that after I wrote the letter I felt so bad I was physically ill.
I was afraid you’d respond in a letter and say that we should break our relationship, and that you wouldn’t ever write or speak to me again. And I wouldn’t have blamed you in the least.
I realize that I was withdrawing from your family, especially on Sundays when I would see your mom. How warped my mind must be.
Last night at the supper table Dad didn’t agree with me at all when I shared what I had written. By the way, he claimed to be totally surprised by the coffee ice cream. We made the ice cream in the basement while he was doing the chores. We cleaned everything before he got back inside.
Anyway, he feels that you have no ulterior motives of any sort, and that your parents are just having the normal worries that all parents do. So I feel much better about all of this. Hopefully I have done no lasting damage.
It’s so good to think again that our love has value for its own sake. I get messed up when things move beyond that. Please forgive me? And thanks ahead of time for the patience that I know you will have.
I really want to tell you what a wonderful person I think you are. I could never find a more special man to marry than you.
I love you,
Naomi
January 23
My beloved Naomi,
This finds me home from church and wondering very much how things are going around your place. It would be so wonderful to spend Sunday afternoon with you.
Stan preached his first sermon today, and I saw a couple people there who normally don’t show up, so perhaps he was the attraction. He does preach differently from the other ministers—more personal and engaging.
I asked Lonnie and Luella afterward what they thought. They said they hope things start going better in church now that a new preacher has been ordained, and that they approved of the sermon.
This Mennonite church has a balcony and I sat up there today so I could see how the people reacted to Stan’s sermon, but also because I get bored, and this was something different.
Yesterday I made a batch of cookies for the same bored reasons. It’s a low state of
affairs when a man spends his Saturday morning inside the house and in the kitchen. Just kidding…but they tasted good. Lonnie agreed, so there. Luella fussed a little about it. These cookies weren’t on my diet, so I had to promise her I’d only eat a couple and that they were for Lonnie.
Luella pulled the last joke on me though. After Lonnie had eaten his cookies, he left for the other farm down the road to do the chores. After a while Luella called him on the Freedom telephone he always carries with him, and when he answered she told him she wanted to make sure he was still alive.
Ha…ha…They thought that was really funny. And so it goes around here.
Monday evening…
I’m so glad I didn’t mail the Sunday letter this morning. At least I can include another one with it. I cannot begin to express my sorrow over your last letter. For some reason I felt as if I had spoken things I shouldn’t have, but the shock of your letter was still hard to take.
Is there nothing I can do to persuade you? I’m so sorry for how my parents feel, and that I even told you. Where do all these suspicions come from anyway? Please reconsider. At least wait until I get back, and we can talk about this properly.
Now I’m kind of at a loss. What does one do? Surely you don’t want me to discontinue writing my letters. Your letter didn’t sound like that, so I’ll take a chance and hope this can be worked out.
My heart hurts all over, but I comfort myself that you do love me and that love can win out in the end, even when the circumstances are difficult and the road hard. But if I had known it would be this hard, I don’t know if I ever would have come out here to teach. May God forgive me if something happens to separate us. That would be too much to bear.
Well, I will cry my agony alone tonight and keep hope alive in my heart because you haven’t cut things off completely. Hopefully your next letter will bear better news.
