Plain Wisdom (15 page)

One day a native woman knocked on the young mother’s door and asked for a bar of soap. Cleanliness was their only tool to fight diseases. The missionary feared for her family as her supply was low. She had just one bar left besides the thin sliver she was currently using, which would last only a few more days. And the next shipment wasn’t due for months.

Desperately wanting to help, the missionary knew what she needed to do. Breathing a prayer heavenward, she gave away her last precious bar of soap. Seeing the look of pure joy on the lady’s face, she knew she had done the right thing.

A few days later a shipment was delivered to their village, but soap was not among the supplies. However, on the next laundry day, when this missionary woman opened a new box of laundry detergent, she found a free bar of soap inside. Every box after that contained another precious bar of soap. Nothing less than a modern-day miracle.

It’s like Elijah’s story in the Bible.

When Elijah asked a widow for a piece of bread, she told him she had nothing baked and had only a handful of flour and a bit of oil left. She said to him, “I am gathering sticks to build a fire to bake the last of it, for myself and my son.”

Elijah said, “Don’t be afraid. Go and do as you have said. Only make me a loaf from it and bring it to me.”

She agreed to do so, even though she knew it was her last. Afterward, whenever the widow baked again, the barrel of flour and the cruse of oil miraculously refilled. She and her household ate for many days. (See 1 Kings 17:10–16.)

The same God was looking out for both of these women, hundreds of years apart, and the same God is still watching over us and blessing us today.

Our God of compassion and mercy loves a generous giver whose heart is in the right place. He promises to reward such people, saying they shall lack nothing (see Proverbs 28:27).

L
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he Amish are known for being industrious, but they aren’t workaholics. The children are taught to work, but they are also taught to enjoy free time. Without television or electronic games to distract them, the Amish have a healthy respect for leisure time.

Outdoor activities for children and youth include ice-skating, riding scooters, fishing, and playing hide-and-seek, baseball, volleyball, and horseshoes. The adults are free to join those activities whenever it suits them. There are no barriers against moms and dads playing.

I’ve seen older children on horses, racing through the fields. Nothing like a little competitive racing to cause moms’ hearts to pound a little harder while the riders’ laughter echoes off the hills. The Amish don’t encourage competing, but a spirited effort is always good for laughs and good-natured teasing.

Games are popular—checkers, the Game of Life, Candy Land, Booby Trap, Jenga, and dominoes. Although many card games are off limits since their roots are tied to gambling, the Amish enjoy playing Old Maid, Dutch Blitz, Uno, Phase 10, and Go Fish.

They regularly have youth suppers where the adults provide a meeting place and a meal and the youth get together. In the summer, before the meal they might play volleyball, baseball, or horseshoes. In the winter, they stay indoors and play games or cards. If there’s a Ping-Pong table in
the house, the youth will put that to good use. After the meal they’ll have a singing.

Some Amish enjoy putting puzzles together. The whole family usually gathers around to help. If neighbors stop in, Englischer or Amish, they are often invited to join in. When the puzzle is done, it may be mounted, framed, and given away or sold.

In the past the Amish didn’t go on vacations and rarely traveled far from home. Today they will typically leave home to help others in times of need, even if they have to hire a driver or take a train or both, and some are beginning to enjoy the American pastime of vacations and sightseeing. Niagara Falls is a particularly popular destination. While traveling, they visit friends of friends along the way.

The Amish have an insatiable desire to enjoy life and each other, whether through work, games, or visiting. Here’s a recipe that’s sure to please any crowd.

Like passing plates of steaming meat and vegetables at the dinner table, we often pass stories around during mealtime. Since our oldest boys are married with homes of their own, we rarely have the whole family here for a meal, but when we do, it seems that the conversation is the main course.

Recently I heard a story I hadn’t thought of in a while, and it reminded me that when children get bored, adults usually pay the price.

My husband’s sister Martha and his cousin Ruth Ann were at their uncle Mannie’s for a week while their dads were in Virginia. The girls were around five years old and had run out of things to do. Ruth Ann said, “I know! Let’s peel potatoes!” Martha said, “I don’t know how,” but Ruth Ann agreed to show her. So they began peeling potatoes—a big bag of ’em—down in the cellar at an old sink Uncle Mannie had. Peelings piled thick and fast. The potatoes were quite small once they had the peelings off! They peeled a ten-gallon bucket (approximately fifty pounds of potatoes) and put the dear little things in clear plastic bags. When they showed the first bag full to Aunt Katie, she mumbled, “Uh-huh,” and went right on enjoying her after-dinner nap.

Guess what they had for every meal the rest of the week? Potatoes, of course, that Aunt Katie didn’t have to peel!

Bored children often get into mischief, but sometimes they simply want to learn how to do what the adults do. If we want to instill a love of work, we can’t wait until they’re truly capable of being helpful. That will likely be too late. Catch them while they’re still young and work looks exciting to them. Otherwise they’ll grow up to be couch potatoes.

Aunt Katie would have benefited from this recipe that day.

I was in the backyard on a beautiful late fall day, playing with my two young sons. The Georgia air was a little nippy but nothing a sweater didn’t fix.

When we heard a cat meowing, we began looking for it on our acre of land in the middle of seventy-plus acres of pastures and woods. We
finally discovered our own cat, Charlie, up in a pine scrub tree that had no limbs close to the ground. Climbing it would be like trying to scale a slick pole, only with bark and ants.

Charlie looked and sounded pitiful, and the kids were sure he wanted down. So I did what every good mother does: assured them the cat would be fine until their father got home.

When Tommy arrived, looking as bedraggled and weary as the cat sounded, the boys led him to the tree while prattling frantically that he had to save Charlie. He studied the cat for a moment before assuring our boys that if the cat could climb up, he could climb down. So we went inside for supper.

As the sun went down, a chill settled over the house, so we started our first fire of the season in our wood stove. Tommy checked on the cat one more time and even tried to bribe it with people food, but Charlie stayed put.

When I woke the next morning, I went to the back door to call the cat. What I discovered was winter. A storm had come through, and the tree limbs drooped under a heavy load of ice. Charlie wasn’t waiting at the back door as I thought he would be. I walked outside and heard a hoarse-sounding meow from atop the scrub pine. I hurried back to the bedroom to tell my husband.

In a flurry of activity, all four of us got dressed and rushed to the foot of the tree where Charlie was still perched, letting out his pitiful meow. My husband got a ladder out of the shed and leaned it against the frozen trunk.

After Tommy climbed the ladder as high as he could, he’d reached the lowest limb of the pine. He extended himself toward where the cat crouched. I knew we had to get Charlie down, but if Tommy fell … I didn’t want to think about that.

Finally he got close enough to pick up Charlie. He yelled down at me, “Okay, I can get the cat. But how do I climb down this slippery tree with a frightened cat in one hand?”

I had an idea. I ran into the house and grabbed a sheet from the closet. Hurrying back, I yelled, “We’ll stretch out the sheet, and you can drop the cat. We’ll catch it.”

He didn’t look convinced, but we saw no other way to get the cat down safely.

Each boy held a corner of the sheet, and I grabbed the other two corners. We stretched out the sheet and stood there like firemen waiting to catch someone jumping from a burning building. I looked at the boys. “You have to hold on tight when Dad drops Charlie. Are you ready?” They gave me a half-frightened smile as they pulled on the sheet.

Tommy dropped the cat. The terrified, half-frozen fur ball hurtled toward us with his claws extended. But before Charlie reached the sheet, the two boys dropped their corners and took off running. A second later the cat landed.

All my life I’d heard that if you drop a cat, he’ll always land on his feet. I guess if you drop a half-frozen cat from thirty feet up a scrub pine tree during an ice storm, the landing-on-his-feet rule doesn’t necessarily apply.

Charlie hit the ground and took off running. Tommy climbed down safely. Soon both cat and owners were inside a toasty warm house, eating. Charlie slept soundly throughout the day, and his playfulness had returned by the next evening, and he never again climbed so far he couldn’t get back down.