My Dearest Naomi (24 page)

The young folks had a practice singing last night, learning some new songs, with the gathering held at Saul’s place. I walked up and enjoyed it for an hour or so, excusing myself early so I could get to bed. I told them my eyes felt like sandpaper, and they were quite understanding.

Lonnie and Luella had been invited out for supper, so the house was empty when I came back, which didn’t help my loneliness. But I lost my sorrow in sleep, waking up late this morning. That’s unusual for me—sleeping through an alarm. I threw my clothing on, made a mad dash downstairs, and arrived in time for breakfast.

Luella has me on the diet, of course, watching over me with a feverish eye, banishing all manner of forbidden foods or even the mention of them. I do feel better, though, so I’m happy.

Another letter arrived today, which is good, though it just makes the longing to be home all the worse. Thanks for the concern over my health. I am abiding by the diet, guided by Luella’s firm hand. The woman is doing what I have never been able to do—keep healthy and regimented food in my body. Horror of horrors, I have to eat salads! Not just once a week or once in a blue moon, but every day. How much worse could it get?

Lettuce should be food for rabbits, or horses, or for creatures who wander
the night, but not for humans. Whoever first thought of lettuce as human food should be banished in chains and shackles to some dark dungeon.

And carrots and celery? I know God made them, but He surely had other usages in mind. Things like bovine consumption. The vegetables crunch between my teeth and rattle my brain with the awful racket of chewing. It is a horrible way to keep life in the body. But I feel better, so what can I say?

Today after school we had some excitement at the farm. I was sitting at the schoolhouse after the children had left, looking out the window, when I saw a coon climbing the trees in the front yard. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was seeing because of the distance so I went to check it out. Sure enough it was a coon. I told Luella, who called up to Saul’s place to let Duane know. He drove down in the pickup, bringing his rifle and Janie with him, but the coon had disappeared by then.

Janie came up with the idea of looking in the barn under the hay bales. We had moved a few bales when she started hollering, “There he goes! There he goes!”

The coon scurried across the floor, escaped through an open window, and headed off over an open field, with me right behind him. I was determined not to let him get away, but he did a sharp turn toward the back field, getting into the fence row. The others didn’t feel like running anymore, and I was gasping for breath, so we let him go. Duane wanted to fire away, but Luella wouldn’t let him, which was a wise decision with all the people around.

Lonnie’s dad is in the hospital from a bad case of the winter flu, and they went down last night to visit him, taking me along. I only went inside for a few minutes since the visiting rights are restricted with how sick he is. Lonnie said the doctor thinks he’s doing okay for an eighty-year-old man.

By the way, the grandchild’s test for cancer from before Christmas came back clear. So it was all a big scare, but something to be thankful for nonetheless.

If you want to know where the doctor’s office was in Missouri, look on the map clear down by the Arkansas, Oklahoma, Kansas border, in the little town of Powell.

This morning at breakfast poor Lonnie let his feelings be known. I
knew there was trouble coming, but I didn’t know exactly where it would break over the horizon. He is sure that the quality of his care has diminished considerably since Luella spends so much time on my food preparation. He says he will soon be reduced to skin and bones. If I were in his shoes, I’m sure I’d feel the same way. I told him “I’m sorry” and that Luella doesn’t have to do all this work for me.

He laughed but I still know he’s at least a little serious about it. What can be done? I don’t know. Luella stands over me, making sure I eat everything she puts on my plate, and she checks when I come home from school, questioning whether I’ve eaten the right things while at school. The diet is very specific with time and items, but not the quantity of the food. I guess what’s good for you can be eaten in large amounts. Yuck…

Lonnie complains that the food isn’t getting to him. He claimed last night he couldn’t get any salad until Luella had served me and had taken some for herself. So it goes, but I am being good…and eating horrible food. That is food which is horribly good. I don’t know how else to say it.

The church had a minister’s ordination over Christmas while I was gone. There were three men in the lot: Saul, one of the school board members, and Stan, the young man who teaches the youth midweek Bible studies.

They set up the three books like the Amish do, with one of them containing a slip of paper.

Stan drew the book that contained the slip of paper, and he was already ordained by the time I arrived back from Missouri. Today was supposed to be his first time preaching, but he gave his testimony instead. The regular minister filled in the rest of his allotted time. I am beginning to like Stan more and more. He has fire, zeal, and self-confidence. He really believes God has called him to the ministry and chose to confirm it with the draw of the lot. I believe he’s right about that.

With all my love,

Eugene

January 10

I arrived home from babysitting to a quiet house. Mom is still down with the flu. She must have been worn out because she has it so hard. I sure hope it doesn’t spread any further. Dad seemed cheerful enough when I was out helping with the chores—if that can be used as a guide to flu prediction. I still feel okay, so I will hope for the best. The rest of the family also seems fine.

I served them all supper, and then made chicken broth for Mom. She sat up in bed when I brought it to her, sipping it slowly. The bread didn’t get eaten, but at least she has healthy broth in her stomach for the night.

I’m glad to hear that Luella is keeping close tabs on your diet. By the way, we figured out that Mom doesn’t have low blood sugar because she went off of sugar and didn’t feel any better. She still won’t go to a doctor, but she thinks it might be an iron deficiency. We shall see, I guess.

Yesterday I was in Worthington with Mrs. Brown and her two girls. She wanted me to go along to help get their pictures taken. They are the sweetest things and were all dressed up in their Sunday clothes and cute as buttons.

Last night I gave Dad his haircut since Mom was down with the flu. I enjoyed it, although I never thought I would be a good barber. Mom said Dad behaved himself better for me than he does for her. He was afraid I wouldn’t do it right, but he held still and the job looks fine to me. Now Don and Larry are next. Can’t you just hear them yelling?

There is a young folks gathering tonight at Robert’s, with plans to shell the young folks’ popcorn. That should be fun—gathering around the barn floor in the lantern light. I just wish you were here.

With lots of love,

Naomi

January 11

Lonnie’s dad has taken a turn for the worse, and they have him on an IV now. The house was in a hush tonight when I came home since the news was so unexpected. Well, maybe Lonnie did expect something, even after the doctor gave them such a good word. Both Lonnie and Luella are down at the hospital, but I decided not to go along.

I wonder what you are doing this time of the night, and if you are as lonely as I am. There has been no young folks gathering this week. They don’t seem to have as many as we Amish do. It would be nice to have more because it gets kind of old being mostly around children and the senior generation.

I see in your last letter you are concerned I’ll end up with diabetes. The doctor in Missouri has already warned me of that danger, which is one of the reasons I’m being so faithful to the diet. I don’t want my pancreas giving out, as diabetes would be much worse than hypoglycemia. So rest assured I’m doing what I’m supposed to do, and not only because of the diabetes. I really want to get over the constant blues that sometimes comes upon me. It feels good to be on an even keel, not feeling like a boat rocking up and down on tempestuous seas. It also feels good to know that my frequent depressions were not simply something in my head, as I always figured they were.

We are still missing seven students in school. Three of them should be back next week. None of them should have much trouble catching up except Lydia, so I’ll have to see if I can give her extra help.

Crystal was in a really good mood today, which helps. I always worry when the students aren’t happy, even when I know it’s not my fault. Dena was absent today. For what reason, it’s hard to tell. She’s sure to be out of sorts the first day she comes back.

With love as usual,

Eugene

January 12

Today is a week since the Christmas holidays, but it seems much longer than that. I sit here thinking about our parting and how lovely and sweet you looked.

I never had the time to tell you over Christmas that my parents have some objections to our wedding this summer. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this now, or ever, as I don’t think it matters. Once we’re both twenty-one, we can do as we wish. I don’t think they’re being mean or that they don’t approve of you. They didn’t really tell me why, nor did I ask. I suspect it has something to do with their fears of our maturity level. I’m the oldest, and this will be their first child who marries. Anyway, please don’t worry about it.

On a more humorous note, I think I’ve found the perfect match for my sister Mary. The boy lives out here, of all places. Not that she needs any help or would ever think of joining the Mennonites, but still, I can’t help but think about them being right for each other. He’s really a nice boy.

Winter seems to have arrived in force, with the weather changing on a dime. There still hasn’t been enough snow for the children to play outside—only cold and bitter wind. Since we’re trapped inside, the children are full of energy at recess times. They end up blowing it off during schooltime at their desks, which is not good.

I didn’t get a letter from you today, but since one came yesterday I shouldn’t complain. When it comes to letters from you, I’m hard to satisfy.

What do you do with your long winter evenings? Do the young folks have much going? What about ice skating? Has that started yet? They don’t do any ice skating around here for some strange reason.

Today the weather changed again, and it was beautiful outside, the sun bright and warm with almost no wind. At lunch hour I just stood at the corner of the schoolhouse and soaked in the warmth, feeling the stirring of life and love. I guess the young dream a lot, especially when they don’t know what lies ahead. I hope life is good to you and me. I think it will be.

The youth mid-week Bible study was enjoyable again. Stan is still leading the class even though he’s a minister now, which is great. I like his style
of teaching. The topic was on spiritual adoption, and the verses came from Romans 8:15-17. But the discussion didn’t stay on adoption. Stan explained that verse 16 speaks of the Spirit bearing witness to our spirit that we are the sons of God, and that whenever the conscience is free of guilt, this clears the way for the believer to feel in fellowship with God.

I spoke up and said that I couldn’t agree entirely with the wisdom of using our conscience as a guide, especially on whether we are in fellowship with God. Because there are such variations to the intensity of an individual’s conscience. Some people are very sensitive and others are not. It seems to me God has some other standard by which He declares us righteous.

Stan then quoted 2 Corinthians 10:5, the part that says, “And bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ.” I told him I don’t think thoughts and conscience are the same thing, which Stan apparently did. So after some discussion, the conclusion was reached that they are not the same. The class felt like the conscience only uses our thoughts to work through, and while thoughts might be under our control, our consciences are not.

Stan wrapped up the discussion by saying that our consciences can be something that can be taught and ought to be under the control of the Holy Spirit. That is a conclusion I agree with. They also agreed that it might take years of being a Christian for the conscience to be properly trained by God.

Stan led the discussion further to Romans 8:17, where it says, “If so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.” He asked us when we think this glorifying takes place. Someone ventured that heaven likely brought glorification, and Stan agreed that it does, but that we also get a lot of good out of suffering while still on this earth.

Stan used his own life’s testimony as an example. He feels that God put him through extra hardships to prepare him for the ministry position he now holds. “If I hadn’t gone through those trials,” he said, “I wouldn’t have anything to tell you when I get up behind the pulpit to speak.”

That really touched me.

He also used the example of kindness. Unless we first feel what it’s like to be used unkindly by others, it’s often very hard to be kind to someone.