Big Decisions

by Linda Byler

  Oh, dear, a whole load of people Lizzie had never seen before walked up to them, and she didn’t have the slightest clue who they were! She swallowed hard, glancing wildly at Stephen, but he was smiling genuinely at a tall, plump lady and greeting each strange person who shook his hand.

  Lizzie wondered what would happen if she panicked and burst through the door and ran down across the flat pasture to the fencerow by the creek and hid. Would they come looking for her? Why did she think these thoughts? She had to calm down, really seriously calm herself, and remember what day this was. Her wedding day. After today she would no longer be Lizzie Glick. It was high time people started calling her Elizabeth, now that she was a respectable married woman who combed her hair sleek and flat.

  After shaking more hands than she had ever shaken before, at least in one sitting, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself so she could smile at bustling aunts and greet her friends as they filed into the room. She began to feel comfortable enough to enjoy her wedding day.

  The singing started, which was the official signal that the ceremony was now in progress. The ministers all filed upstairs to hold conference, with Stephen and Lizzie following them. The ministers each took turns speaking to them about marriage and what was expected of them in their life together.

  As Lizzie listened, she knew that beginning with this day, she had entered into a permanent union, one rooted as deeply as the largest oak in the forest. Seasons would come and go, the heat of summer, the winds of autumn when every branch moved in the gale, the ice and snow in winter, which bent every branch to its limit, sometimes even breaking sturdy limbs, and yet she and Stephen would endure.

  When spring came, new growth would replace the broken limbs, strengthening the tree, just like their argument about the color of the bricks on their brown house had deepened their relationship.

  There was no turning back now.

  She peeped at Stephen beneath lowered lashes, overwhelmed by happiness and her faith in him. He was so serious, his tanned face so solemn, his hair shining, and cut in the proper ordnung for this day.

  All she needed to do was place her hand in his and follow him back downstairs as the singing congregation waited. He would lead her to the minister who would unite them in holy matrimony. With the singing wafting up from the house below, Lizzie felt like crying again because of the interest of these kind ministers, and well, just everything.

  When they were finished, Lizzie and Stephen filed slowly and solemnly into the living room with the rest of the bridal party, sitting across from each other on the new wooden chairs that Stephen’s grandfather had made for them in his little woodworking shop. They had been a gift from Stephen’s parents and pleased Lizzie immensely.

  Lizzie kept her head bowed demurely, her hands folded in her lap. She couldn’t look up—she didn’t dare look at Stephen—so she just looked at her lap. It felt as if hundreds of eyes were staring intently at her from every direction, so the safest thing to do was keep her head lowered.

  The singing stopped and someone chose another song—that familiar tune that had been sung at hundreds of other weddings. It was a very cozy feeling, Lizzie thought, to know that this ritual, this form of ordnung or set of rules the wedding was based on, had been the same for Mam and Dat, for Stephen’s parents, and their parents before them, and on and on for generations. That was a good and calming thing, the realization that everyone in this house knew what to expect and how to go about running this wedding.

  It certainly had not seemed very orderly yesterday. The whole house had resembled a chicken house after a fox makes an appearance. Well, that was a stretch, perhaps, but how could 10 or 15 women get anything accomplished and all talk at the same time? Because talk they did. Laughed and planned and stood in small bunches with pieces of paper, writing down who did what, and who was seated where, and how many platters of chicken and filling went on which table, and on and on.

  Sometimes Mam got a little snorty if the rules were a bit stringent, and she would shake her head and say, Ach, voss machts aus? What does it matter? She was from Ohio, so she was no stickler for tradition, although she had a few practices of her own from her growing-up church that Lizzie didn’t particularly like. But when all the dust settled from the risht-dawg and the sun rose on a perfectly prepared wedding day, who knew what an unbelievable fuss had occurred there the day before? That’s just how it was.

  Now the preachers all walked into the room, quiet and solemn, and took their seats in the same row as the bridal party. After the singing was finished, the first minister stood up, cleared his throat, surveyed the crowd of people, and began to speak. After his sermon was over, there was a short prayer, the scriptures were read, and then the bishop from Mam’s home church in Ohio stood up to preach the long sermon. He was in his 60s, Lizzie guessed, according to his white hair and beard. He proved to be a good speaker. He touched on many interesting aspects of marriage, including living together in harmony with your neighbors, as well as with each other.

  However, Lizzie became fidgety, her palms began to perspire again, and her back started aching. She knew the minister would talk about the Tobias story, the tale from the old German storybook where a young man of God set out on a journey for his father and discovered love and then marriage. It was a good, rather touching story, but after the bishop mentioned Tobias’s name, Lizzie’s heart never really slowed down. She knew that soon the bishop would call Stephen and her to stand before him.

  Her heart jumped in one frantic flutter when he started the Tobias story and went racing on until he stopped to announce that today there were two who were prepared for matrimony. He announced their names, and Lizzie ignored her swiftly beating heart and her nervousness. She solemnly did what was required of her, getting up from her chair, holding Stephen’s proffered hand, and following him to stand in front of the bishop.

  The minister cleared his throat and asked the congregation if there was anyone who wished to put a stop to this wedding. Of course, there wasn’t. Then he asked Stephen if he wished to take Lizzie as his wife. Would he promise to love her and take care of her, through sickness and other trials of her life? Stephen quietly answered, “Ya.”

  Then the minister asked Lizzie the exact same questions. Lizzie’s voice shook only the tiniest bit as she said, “Ya.” The minister asked them more questions of faith, to which they both responded in turn with another “Ya.”

  The minister covered their joined hands as he pronounced them man and wife, then spoke a blessing in the name of Jesus Christ. Lizzie and Stephen turned and sat down across from each other. Only then did Lizzie take a deep breath, and her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. Only after the ministers had given testimony, another long prayer was read, and the last exultant song was started, she dared to sneak a look at Stephen’s face. His eyes were very blue, and he gave her a small, special smile, which she returned before lowering her eyes properly to her hands in her lap.

  The singing rose and swelled around them. Of all the slow, old German tunes that were sung, this was the most lovely of them all with its words about God and a bride and groom. Lizzie pressed her lips firmly together to hold in her emotion. The song was sung so beautifully.

  Joy flooded her heart, and a sure feeling enveloped her soul. She had sought God’s will in her own fumbling, unsure way after many errors. But now she had come home, securely bound to her husband by her love and, most importantly, by God.

  The last soaring note of the song died away. It was almost time for the celebration to begin. Finally Lizzie could look at Stephen and see only him, hold his hand, and go back upstairs to change her covering from a black organdy to a white organdy one. She and Stephen also changed from their borrowed, old-fashioned, high-topped shoes to their afternoon slippers.

  Then the festivities of an Amish wedding day officially started. Men quickly rearranged the living room, carrying in long tables and setting them up around the room. Lizzie and Stephen were told their dinner was ready in less
than half an hour after the service was over. The wooden benches where people were seated during the ceremony were placed around the tables, tablecloths were put on, and dozens of hands passed out plates, water pitchers, rolls, butter, jelly, applesauce, coleslaw, filled doughnuts, trays of cookies, fruit, and hot platters of food before the guests were again seated.

  Lizzie tried hard to keep a mature, serene expression on her face, but her smile just kept sliding out of control. She was deep-down, really happy, genuinely pleased to have become Stephen’s wife, to spend this wonderful day of celebration as the honored guest who sat in the most important seat, the eck, or corner.

  Her nicest tablecloth covered the table, and it was set with her china, silverware, and, best of all, the expensive water pitcher and glasses Stephen had given her. A cut-glass bowl held fruit, two cakes sat on glass cake stands, and a variety of fancy dishes were filled with good things to eat. Even the butter was molded into wedding bells with little sprigs of parsley adorning it. The whole corner table looked so grand. Joshua and Emma, John and Mandy, and Aunt Vera’s two children, Leroy and his wife and Mary Ann and her husband, served as their waiters.

  After finishing their delicious meal, Lizzie and Stephen went upstairs to Lizzie’s bedroom to open the gifts that were piled on Lizzie’s bed. Many of the aunts and cousins came up to watch them open the beautifully wrapped presents.

  After the gifts were unwrapped, Lizzie couldn’t imagine what she would do with all the stuff! She would need a large pantry and plenty of cupboards in her new house, no doubt about that. She smiled.

  “Where will we keep all of this?” she asked Stephen.

  “We’ll have plenty of kitchen cupboards, Lizzie,” he told her, which made Lizzie glad and happy all over again.

  After that, the afternoon singing began, and Lizzie and Stephen and the rest of the wedding party all filed back to the eck, their table, again. Each of the single young men chose a young girl to sit with him at the table, and they shared a songbook between them during the hymn-singing. All the older folks stopped their dishwashing and other various duties to watch “the youngie go in.” There were quite a few giggles and rib-punching and some whispering among them, as they watched to see who had picked which girl.

  Stephen told Lizzie he was so glad he never had to do that again, and Lizzie could very easily agree with him. The singing started again, slow hymns and also faster ones which the youth led, while candy dishes, fruit, drinks, and other delicacies were passed from person to person.

  There was lots of talking and visiting going on, and one part of the table became a bit rowdy, with some of the young boys tossing small pieces of candy or celery at each other. Their companions either giggled or looked horrified, depending on the type of girl. It was all familiar and very dear to Lizzie and Stephen.

  The last event of the day was pairing the boys and girls for the evening meal. This was Lizzie’s duty. Each boy took a girl to the table. They would eat supper together and join the hymn-singing later in the evening. This was a big event in the life of a teenager. Sometimes, after being taken to the table, a couple would begin dating, so it was considered a good way to meet a companion. It was the hardest part of the day for the bride, because after thinking that she had everything down pat, finished up, and that everything was fine, a few of the boys would refuse to accompany the girls she had paired them with for the evening.

  The air had turned sharply colder after a snow shower that afternoon. Lizzie was getting tired and a bit irritable with some of the couples’ slow response to her pairing. It was getting late, she was almost in tears, and she couldn’t find Stephen.

  Finally he appeared, and she made a dash to be at his side. “Stephen, where were you? I need help badly. David and Lee won’t take Susie and Fannie. Now what do I do? Everyone else seems to be okay with the partners I assigned.”

  Stephen put his arm around her waist and held her firmly, soothingly, while Lizzie struggled to keep her emotions in check.

  “Let me take care of it,” he said and marched her along with him, confronting the two boys who were acting reluctant to join their dates.

  “If you don’t want the girls she gave you, I guess you won’t be getting any supper then, will you?” he said in a firm voice.

  “Aw. Come on!” Lee wailed.

  “Sorry. It’s either Fannie or no one,” and he steered Lizzie away.

  “You mean … Can you do that?” she asked.

  “Sure. I can act as stubborn as they are.”

  Lizzie giggled.

  “They’ll get over it,” he finished. And that was that.

  Lizzie decided on the way to the eck for supper that she had better appreciate Stephen all her days. What would she have done without him?

  The buttered potatoes, corn, and meat loaf tasted good to Lizzie after a day of traipsing around in the cold, trying to keep everyone happy. She soon forgot her frustration after all the youth filed in and they sat eating the good food and listening to the singing. Lizzie looked for David and Lee but couldn’t find them, so she figured they must be all right.

  Stephen sat back, his blue eyes drooping with sleepiness after the tension of the day. Lizzie watched him, then asked if he was glad the whole day was over, or almost.

  “Oh, am I ever! Even if it’s my wedding day, all these people really make me tired in a hurry!”

  Lizzie laughed. “You look beat.”

  “I am.”

  After the guests said good-bye, and Lizzie and Stephen were wished congratulations one last time, the aunts and uncles started washing dishes, filling garbage bags with candy wrappers, leftover apple cores, and celery tops, all the while still smiling and joking. Some of the relatives continued singing heartily, although Lizzie wondered how in the world they could keep going without their voices wearing out.

  For the last time the bridal party left the table, glad to have had a wonderful time together, but at the same time, grateful it was all over, and that they could get on with their normal lives. Of course, life for Lizzie would be a new “normal.” She was no longer a single girl at home, helping Mam and being one of the family. She was Stephen’s wife now, whatever that entailed, though all she felt was joy and anticipation.

  Even if marriage was a bit like jumping off a cliff, never completely certain where you would land, there was no other place she would rather be than here in this torn-up, messy house that had just held such a joyous celebration.

  She loved Stephen. Wasn’t that amazing? Each disagreement, each time one of them hurt the other’s feelings, actually brought them closer as they forgave each other, which in turn, brought them a deeper affection. So what was there to be afraid of? Nothing really, unless, of course, the disagreements became too serious.

  Chapter 13

  STEPHEN CLIMBED INTO THE buggy. He wrapped the blue and green plaid buggy blanket around Lizzie’s legs before settling it around his own. He lifted the reins and chirped to George, the horse. The buggy rolled forward.

  Outside, the air was frigid with gray clouds scudding across a backdrop of dull blue and white sky, as if the sunshine had frozen along with the rest of the world. The buggy wheels screamed that thin high squeal of metal on frozen snow, which always set Lizzie’s teeth on edge. She shivered and snuggled closer to Stephen, glad for the warmth of another person and the heavy blanket wrapped securely around them.

  They were on their way to visit yet another family in the community and to receive the wedding gift that awaited them. It was the custom among the Amish of Lizzie’s community for newlyweds to visit the home of each guest who had attend their wedding and receive a gift, becoming better acquainted with each other in the process. Sometimes the new couple stayed for a meal; other times only for a short visit or a “call.” Lizzie couldn’t understand why some families went to a lot of work preparing a meal, while with others, you sat for a short time, collected your wedding gift, and kept going. Kind of like a drive-through gift collection. She thought the short variet
y was pretty dumb.

  But, being Amish, Lizzie knew that it wasn’t up to her to say how things were done or not done, no matter what she thought. She was a member of this Amish church, and she never even thought of being anything else. She was perfectly content to follow its customs and dedicate her life to living happily within the church’s rules. Well, not always. She still wanted nice things. Sometimes she wished she didn’t have to comb her hair like all the other married women, so completely flat and smooth and up off her forehead with only thin, flat rolls along the side of her head.

  No wonder everyone waited until they were married to comb their hair like that. Suddenly the unsuspecting husband found his wife looking quite different, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He was married to her. Of course, Lizzie reasoned, she had combed her hair almost the same way on their wedding day and Stephen still went ahead and married her. Mam said looks had nothing to do with love, but deep down, Lizzie knew that wasn’t completely true.

  Her mind wandered to the table set up in her bedroom with gifts stacked on top, beneath, and on both sides. Gifts everywhere. In her opinion, it was time to move into the little house on top of the hill that Stephen was building. She didn’t like living with Dat and Mam and the rest of the family for the first months after she was married. But that was how things were, so there was no use fretting.

  Mam wasn’t too enthused about it either, but she never let on, except when Stephen and Dat were at work. Then she would tell Lizzie how it was done in Ohio where she was born and raised, the newlyweds moving the day after the wedding, the way it should be, she said, her eyes snapping behind the wire rims of her glasses. But she never said much to anyone else. She packed Stephen’s lunch along with Dat’s and Jason’s, cooked delicious meals, and in general, seemed quite thrilled to have them in the house, in spite of the newlywed tradition in Ohio which she preferred.

  Mam was a good sport about most things in life, a trait that Lizzie had come to appreciate as she became older. Actually, when she really thought about it, Mam was more dear to her with each passing day. It seemed especially so since Lizzie knew she would soon leave their farmhouse, the place she had spent the past seven years of her life.