Blossoms on the Roof

by Rebecca Martin

  “Shall I get the dishes, Mother?” Polly asked. There was no supper on the table, yet it was supper time.

  “Yes, please. The soup is ready.”

  Polly didn’t need to ask what kind of soup. It was potato and turnip soup, of course, because those were the only two vegetables they had left in their root cellar. As long as they had onions and cabbage and carrots, Mother would make other kinds of soup, but this spring it was always potato and turnip soup, sometimes with a few lumps of dried beef or salt pork added.

  “Father, I ruined Grandpa’s umbrella,” Ben said unhappily. “I happened to turn the wrong way, and the wind caught it.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” said Father, getting to his feet. “Where is the umbrella?”

  Ben led him out to the front steps. “I never knew an umbrella could turn inside out.”

  “I guess you had no reason to know much about umbrellas,” Father said kindly. “As far as I know, Grandpa is the only one in church who owns an umbrella.”

  He took the poor crumpled thing in his hands and turned it over several times. “I think we might be able to fix this.”

  “Really?” Ben said hopefully.

  “Yes. I will use a pair of pliers to straighten these spines. I will pull the fabric back in place and mend this tear. It won’t be as good as new, but it will work.”

  Polly came to the door in time to hear that. “Oh, I’m so glad you can make it right again. And Mother says to come in. Supper’s ready.”

  3

  Abraham’s Obedience

  On Sunday morning Mrs. Mouse woke up Polly. Mrs. Mouse lived in a cranny beneath the rafters of Polly’s loft room. The rafters were the ceiling, and they sloped right down to the floor. The only place to stand up straight in Polly’s room was in the middle, where the roof peaked.

  Polly lay on her straw mattress for a few minutes, listening to Mrs. Mouse at work. Scratch-stritch-scratch. Polly wasn’t sure what mice worked at, but they always seemed to be doing something. And they made a lot of noise doing it too, considering how small they were.

  Dawn was just creeping in through the one tiny window under the gable. Perhaps if I lay still for a while longer, Polly thought, there would be enough light to see Mrs. Mouse when she skitters out of her hole.

  Sure enough, there she was—a soft gray form hurtling along the inside of the eaves. Where’s she going in such a hurry, anyway? Does she have a family hidden away somewhere? Maybe she has six children. Polly began thinking up names for six tiny balls of gray fur. Fuzzball, Sooty, Softy…

  “Polly! Ben! It’s time to wake up. We’re walking to church this morning, you know.” Mother’s voice cut urgently into Polly’s list of names.

  Polly popped out of bed. Mouse names could wait for another morning. Today was Sunday, the best day of the week. It was when all the families of the west district would meet at Abram Miller’s house for church.

  Brrr! As chilly as it was here under the rafters in early March, it wasn’t nearly as cold as it was in January and February when the icy drafts had seeped through the cracks of the loft. In minutes Polly had buttoned her homespun dress.

  Between the two loft rooms was a tiny hall with a trapdoor. Polly pulled it open, thinking smugly that she’d been quicker than Ben this morning. All winter they had been trying to see who could be first down the ladder in the morning.

  Even before she touched the bottom rung, Ben’s feet appeared above her. She had to scramble to get out of the way!

  “I wasn’t far behind you,” he huffed, grabbing his hat and coat. Though the Yoders’ chores had dwindled to almost nothing, Ben still went outside before breakfast. He liked to be the one to bring Jasper and Rob their oats out by the gate.

  Mother stood near the cast-iron cookstove, stirring the porridge. Last night she had set the crushed wheat kernels to soak in water, and this morning as soon as the fire was going, she had them bubbling in the pot. Sometimes on Sunday mornings when breakfast had to be early, the wheat porridge tended to be quite crunchy because there was hardly time to boil it long enough to soften it.

  Hearing a whimper from baby Lisbet’s cradle, Polly hurried over and picked her up. Lisbet was seven months old. Her round, pink face with her button nose, red mouth, and big brown eyes was adorable.

  Father opened the door and came in carrying the water pail he’d filled at the well. Polly had hoped it would be at least a few minutes longer until breakfast. She did not like crunchy porridge.

  Ben came in too, his cheeks red from the morning air. “Pretty cold out there,” he said as he washed his hands at the basin. “Good thing we’re walking today. We’d get cold feet if we rode in the wagon.”

  Mother brought a sleepy-eyed Jakie from his trundle bed in the bedroom. They all sat down at the smooth board table Father had made for Mother when they got married. Touching the table’s satiny surface, Mother had once said to Polly, “Father spent a whole week scrubbing and rubbing to get this top so smooth.”

  They bowed their heads to give thanks. When finished Mother passed the porridge, and Polly ladled some into her bowl. It was steaming hot. Next came the sorghum pitcher. She liked to pour the sweet, brown syrup in a crisscross pattern over the top of her porridge.

  Ben poked her elbow. “Hurry up. We haven’t got all morning. It’s nearly two miles to Abram Miller’s.”

  Quickly she handed him the pitcher. He dumped his sorghum in one big splash and passed the pitcher on to Father.

  Yum. In spite of the crunchiness, the porridge was delicious. Eating something hot helped chase the shivers away on a windy morning like this.

  Half an hour later, the Yoder family started off. Father carried Lisbet for now, but Polly knew what would happen after a quarter mile or so. Jakie would start complaining that he was tired, and Father would hand the baby to Mother or Ben so he could pick up the four-year-old in his strong arms.

  “I’m glad we can take the bush road this morning,” Polly said to Mother. “The trees keep the cold wind away.”

  “That’s right,” said Mother. She peered up into the tops of the tall oak and beech trees. “It won’t be long now until we’ll see little green buds coming out on the trees.”

  “Maybe we can even plant our fields soon,” Ben said eagerly. His face fell as he added, “That is if we can get seeds.”

  Nobody said anything. Nobody liked the thought of leaving fields bare just because there was no money for seeds.

  At the next crossroads, two families joined the Yoders. Soon the bare fields were forgotten, and everyone was talking and laughing again. Polly liked walking with her friend Susan. On school mornings it was the other way around. Susan came walking along and Polly joined her.

  By the time they neared Abram Miller’s, four families were walking together on the narrow dirt road. Suddenly Ben called, “Get off the road! Aaron Gingerich is coming with his team.”

  Everybody strung out in single file near the ditch to let Aaron’s prancing black team pass. Aaron had to travel five miles to the Millers’ farm, and that was why he hitched up this morning even though most of the other families walked. Aaron’s Lena and Anna waved from the wagon as they passed by.

  Soon everyone was sitting on backless benches in Abram Miller’s house. It was a tight fit to get all the families in, but fortunately Abram had a bigger house than the Yoders. When church was at Polly’s home, the people usually sat in the Yoders’ barn loft.

  “Oh Gott Vater, wir loben Dich,” the congregation sang. Ben sang as best he could. He did not understand all the German words of the song, but Father had once told him that it was a hymn of praise.

  Soon Henry stood up to preach. Henry had dark brown hair and dark eyes that shone like black coals. “Sometimes when I am splitting wood for our cookstove,” Henry said, “I think of Abraham. Do you know why? Because the Bible says that Abraham was splitting wood one morning. Was his heart heavy? I don’t know. It could have been because God had asked him to do the hardest thing—sacrifice his
only son.

  “Abraham didn’t hesitate. He got up early in the morning. I like to read about that morning and the preparations Abraham made. He saddled his ass. He hired two of his servants to go along. And he split the wood for the offering.

  “Then there was only one thing left to do. Go. And go they did—for three days. For three whole days, Abraham and Isaac and the servants walked, not knowing to which mountain God was taking them. Then at last we read that ‘Abraham lifted up his eyes, and saw the place afar off.’

  “Now Abraham and Isaac went on without the servants. We can hardly blame Isaac for being curious. He asked his father, ‘I have the wood, you have the fire and the knife, but where is the offering?’

  “Abraham’s reply was mysterious. ‘God will provide Himself a lamb.’ Dear young people, I challenge you to put yourself in Isaac’s place at this moment. Isaac could have asked more questions. He could have demanded a more solid answer. But he was satisfied, and he obeyed.

  “Oh, this story about Abraham and Isaac is a wonderful picture of obedience! Abraham obeyed God. Isaac obeyed his father. We do not read that the lad struggled when Abraham placed him on the wood he had split for their offering.

  “And how greatly they were rewarded for their obedience. Not only was Isaac’s life spared, but God also promised great blessings. God told him, ‘In thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed; because thou hast obeyed my voice.’

  “And that,” said preacher Henry to wind up his story, “is a blessing that reaches down to us today. Because those words are actually a promise of the coming of Jesus Christ, the greatest blessing the world has ever seen.”

  4

  Happy Hearts

  What is a blessing?” Polly asked on Monday morning at the breakfast table.

  “So you heard when the minister spoke of all the blessings God gave to Abraham?” Father asked.

  Polly nodded. She could not speak because her mouth was too full of sorghum-sweetened porridge.

  “When God blesses us,” said Father, “it means He is protecting us and making us happy.”

  Ben said thoughtfully, “Then I guess He isn’t blessing us these days.”

  Father looked at him. Mother looked at him. “Why do you say that?” they both asked at the same time.

  “Well, we’re having all these troubles. No money to pay rent and buy seeds…”

  “When I said God makes us happy, I didn’t mean that He gives us everything we like,” Father explained earnestly. “I meant that He gives us happy hearts in spite of the troubles that come along.”

  “Oh…” Ben said slowly.

  “I like to think of Uncle Ben. Maybe that’s why we named you after my brother. Because even though life has dealt him some hard knocks, he has a happy heart.”

  In his mind’s eye, Ben pictured his uncle who looked so much like Father with his dark hair and beard. Uncle Ben’s back was so crippled that he needed a cane to walk. But yes, Uncle Ben’s brown eyes usually shone with cheer when they visited him at his cobbler shop.

  “Yesterday Preacher Henry said that God gave Abraham many blessings. Do you remember why God blessed Abraham?” Father asked Ben.

  “Because he obeyed,” Ben said.

  “Right. Abraham believed and obeyed God. Today faith and obedience are still the keys to God’s blessings.”

  Mother got up from her chair. “Polly, we had better comb your hair.”

  Polly hurried to the little mirror that hung above the basin and undid her braids. Just like Jakie’s hair, her locks were a reddish color. Polly wished she could have shiny gold hair like Ben and Mother. Nobody else she knew had red hair—except Jakie.

  Father put on his hat and announced, “I am going away this afternoon. I want to talk with some men over in La Grange County. Since I’ll be riding Jasper, it will take me at least four hours to get there. I’ll be staying overnight, and I won’t come back till tomorrow afternoon.”

  Ben blinked. “You’ll be gone for twenty-four hours?”

  “That’s right.” Father smiled. “Hurry home from school so Mother won’t be lonely.”

  Ben waited for Father to explain why he needed to talk with these men in La Grange, but Father just put on his coat and went outdoors. “Is it a secret?” Ben asked Mother.

  “You mean the reason for his trip? Well, I think he’d rather explain when he gets home.” She smiled at Ben. “Remember what we heard about Isaac yesterday? He was satisfied with Abraham’s answer even though he didn’t understand.”

  Ben looked down at his boots. He didn’t like secrets. He would feel better once he knew why Father needed to go on such a long trip.

  “Let’s go,” chirped Polly, grabbing the tin lard pail that contained their lunch—good brown bread with apple butter and salt pork and one slice of Mother’s delicious crumb pie for each of them.

  “I wonder,” said Ben as they marched down the lane together, “if Father’s trip has anything to do with Paddy Lang’s visit on Saturday.”

  “How could that be?” asked Polly.

  “Well, maybe he will find a way to make some money to pay the rent.”

  Polly frowned. “How do people ‘make’ money, anyway?”

  Ben laughed and said, “You thought Father would go and manufacture some coins? No, no. I meant that he might find work to earn money.”

  “Oh,” said Polly, feeling just a little bit hurt. After all, she was only eight years old and couldn’t be expected to understand everything. Then she brightened up and exclaimed, “There come Susan and John!”

  As always Ben and John strode on ahead while the girls kept their own leisurely pace. The school was not far away. They were sure to be on time, so they felt no need to hurry.

  Turning a bend in the road, they saw a little schoolhouse at the crossroads, half hidden by a grove of oak trees. “Oak Grove School” said the sign on the neat split-rail fence. More children were coming from every direction. Happily they milled about the yard until the big brass bell on the roof gave three loud clangs.

  In streamed the children—all thirty-eight of them. They left their wraps and lunches in the cloakroom before entering the classroom. There, at the far end and behind her scarred, black desk, stood Miss Mulligan, looking as stern as ever.

  Though she was called Miss, she was old—at least fifty—and had been teaching for many years. Her iron-gray hair was drawn back into a prim bun. Her eyes were a strange greenish-brown color. She had a thin nose that twisted to the left as if it had been broken sometime long ago. Miss Mulligan always wore the same style of dress, which was made from iron-gray wool, the same color as her hair.

  Promptly and efficiently the classes began. Miss Mulligan was strict, yes, but the children liked school. They liked the steady, dependable routine. They liked their teacher’s crisp, no-nonsense ways.

  Polly was so absorbed with her lessons that she forgot about Father’s trip, but Ben thought of it often. In fact, right after lunch when he was supposed to be studying history, he grew a little sleepy and began daydreaming. He saw Father plodding along toward La Grange on a donkey. On the donkey’s back was a pack of split wood…

  Bang! Miss Mulligan’s ruler came down on Ben’s desk. “You are not studying your lesson!”

  Ben jumped. The picture of Father and the donkey disappeared. Obediently he bowed his head to read the history book again.

  “You looked so funny,” Polly said as she giggled later that day when they were almost at home. “Why, you jumped this high! Were you sleeping?”

  “Naw,” Ben said grumpily. He didn’t like it when Polly laughed at him. “Just daydreaming, I guess. I wonder where Father is right now. I wonder whether he has reached La Grange.”

  “Oh, I’d forgotten about Father going away,” Polly confessed.

  Ben was surprised. “You’d forgotten? I kept thinking about him all day.”

  Jakie came running to them from across the yard, his short legs churning as fast as they could go. After him gal
loped the yellow puppy. Jakie yelled, “Father is gone. Father’s gone for the night.”

  Though only ten, Ben was big for his age. He picked up Jakie the way Father often did, twirling Jakie’s feet off the ground. “We knew that,” he said. “Father told us this morning that he’s going away.”

  “And he’s coming home tomorrow,” Jakie said, putting his arms around Ben’s neck. “Do you know what we’re having for supper?”

  “No. Tell us,” begged Polly. Her mouth watered already at the thought of a special treat.

  “Pancakes with fresh butter. Grandpa brought some butter today!”

  Polly dashed up the porch steps. She could hardly wait for those pancakes.

  Mother smiled at the children. With a wooden spoon, she was stirring something in a blue china bowl. “Guess what! The chickens laid three eggs today. Spring is coming!”

  “Ah, that’s why we can have pancakes,” Ben said wisely. He knew that pancakes needed eggs. He also knew that the chickens stopped laying eggs in cold weather, but in the spring when they could get outdoors and eat more good things, they started laying again.

  Watching Mother drizzle the butter into the pan reminded Ben of something. Grandpa had been here today. He brought the butter. “Mother, did you give the umbrella back to Grandpa?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “I wish it hadn’t been ruined.”

  “He was sorry that it had happened,” Mother told Ben, “but he knew it was an accident, and he was glad to see that Father had repaired it.”

  Soon the first pancakes were sizzling in the pan. The golden-brown pancakes were crisp at the edges and soft as a feather pillow in the middle. “Too bad Father isn’t here to help us eat these,” Polly said.

  Ben’s mouth was too full of pancake and sticky-sweet syrup to say anything, but he nodded his head vigorously up and down in agreement. Not having Father at the table was the only bad thing about this supper.

  5

  Free Land