Sewn with Joy (34 page)

“Yes.” Alicia nodded. “I understand that.”

“I'll never forget the minister's words. The Amish man told the driver if he believed his sin was greater than Christ's sacrifice, he was basically saying, ‘Thanks, but no thanks for what You've done, Jesus. What You did wasn't enough.'”

Alicia sucked in a breath. “Do you think that's true?”

“With everything in me. Yes, Alicia, you made horrible choices, but Jesus's sacrifice covers every one of them.
Every one
. He not only loves you, but He was there with you. He didn't want you to make those choices, but He wept when you did, because He loves you.”

The sobs came louder then, and Alicia rested her arms on the tabletop and placed her face on her arms. She cried until Joy was sure there were no tears left to cry, and Joy knew she had only one more thing to ask. “Do you want to pray? Do you want to ask Jesus to forgive you? To make you new again?”

Alicia nodded, and hope swelled in Joy's chest. Then it slid down her arms and into her stomach, dancing like butterflies.

“All you have to do is silently pray and ask Him to take your sins away. Tell Him you have faith and believe.”

Alicia lowered her head, and even though no words were emerging, Joy knew everything was changing deep inside.

Like a storm calming, Alicia's trembling body stilled. Joy could almost see the ripple of forgiveness radiating from Alicia's soul. After a few minutes, her friend lifted her head. Her makeup was smeared under her eyes from crying. Joy handed her a napkin, and Alicia attempted to wipe it away.

“You've never looked so beautiful,” Joy whispered.

“Why, because I cried my makeup off? Maybe I'll turn out Amish after all.”

“No, because I can see peace on your face.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I feel peace. To know all those bad things aren't mine to carry anymore—that Jesus took them away.”

“And I want you to know something else too. Whenever you feel like remembering your past and feeling bad, instead you need to turn to the present—to what God is doing—and thank Him. Also, look into the future and see what He's got planned.”

“He has a future for me planned?” Alicia asked.

“I know He does. He has one for us both,” Joy admitted.

 

Sunday Casserole for 20

8 cups uncooked potatoes, cubed

2 cups uncooked elbow macaroni

2 cups frozen peas

2 cups cubed ham

1 pound grated mild cheese

8 cups milk

1 tablespoon salt

¼ teaspoon ground black pepper (or more to taste)

½ cup grated onion

Combine all ingredients together and pour into a large roaster pan. Bake at 250 to 275 degrees for 3½ hours. Makes 20 servings.

Thirty

In school you're taught a lesson and then given a test. In life you're given a test that teaches you a lesson.

A
MISH PROVERB

T
he last few days of work had gone by quickly. Joy enjoyed helping Rowan with new scenes, and she'd especially enjoyed the Bible study times after lunch, but with Saturday came the realization that she had to go talk with Matthew. She'd taken a few days to think about it as he asked, and she was certain he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

Even though it was nearing Thanksgiving, the weather was perfect, and the streets of Pinecraft were filled with Amish families on holiday. Joy spotted a man on a bicycle, pulling a small cart. The cart was black with two white wheels and a white wooden railing wrapped all the way around the rim. In it sat four toddlers, three girls, and a boy. The boy stood at the railing nearest to the bicycle, and his small, chubby hands gripped the side. His blond hair was long—past his ears and cut straight across his forehead. He wore a white button-up shirt and black pants. He was the sentry, she supposed, keeping an eye on their path. The three girls wore matching cornflower blue dresses and black
kapp
s tied under their chins in neat bows. They looked at her as they passed
with solemn faces, and Joy remembered her own mother tying her
kapp
before she was old enough to let the
kapp
strings hang free. Could they see her tears even from a distance? Joy offered a smile and waved. One of them—the youngest—waved back.

She was giving up so much more than hopes of a marriage. What about children? She knew a man like Matthew would be a wonderful husband and father, and this one decision was setting the course of her life. But could she walk away from those who truly wanted to know about God? Yes, her desires here on earth were at stake, but so were the eternal souls of the friends she'd grown to care about.

As soon as the bicycle and wagon passed, two more children walked by with their mother. The boy wore a blue T-shirt and swimming trunks with the name Lightning McQueen on them. The girl wore a black-and-white jumper, and her hair was in a tight French braid. Other than the boy's haircut, one would never know they were Amish. They walked just ahead of their mother, who was in Amish dress. The children were ready for the beach, and she smiled thinking of them laughing and dancing in the waves.

She found Matthew at home. He was sitting on the front porch, and he didn't seem surprised to see her. He also didn't seem surprised by her tears as she told him about her dinner at Elizabeth's and her decision.

Matthew nodded once and then looked away. “So what you're saying is you're still not willing to quit the show?”

“It's not the show that's important to me. It's the people. Don't you see that? God has placed me in their lives for a reason. I can feel it deep down.”

“Can you sit? Can we talk about this?” Matthew placed an arm around her shoulders and moved her inside to the living room.
He led her to the sofa, and she sat down. He sat down on the other end of the couch with a wide space between them, a space that yawned like a wide chasm, one Joy was sure would be impossible to cross.

She knew the rules. She understood why the bishop had asked the congregation not to get involved with the television crew—there were simply too many ways their community could possibly be exploited—but she also knew she had to stay with the show. She couldn't walk away from Alicia—from the others.

“I don't know what to say. I don't know if there is anything for us to talk about. We both heard your father's words at church. We know I can't choose both.”

Why did her tears start again? She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. She wanted to be strong, but the pain was so great.
God, is this what You really want?
Because to her it made no sense to walk away from the man she wanted to spend her life with and walk toward new friends who may or may not change.

Of course that didn't matter, did it? The result wasn't up to her. It was up to God. All she had to do was be obedient. “I just wish this were easier.” Her words released with a heavy sigh.

“I don't understand why it needs to be hard. If you truly cared about me, about the community, then there would be
ne
question of what you would do. You could walk over there, tell them you quit, and everything would be fine—it would be
gut
again.”

Out of nowhere came a hot surge of anger, bubbling up inside of her. “
Ne
, it wouldn't be fine. Why can't you see that?” She rose, balling her hands by her sides. “Do you think it's all right that we continue as we are—that we stay in our safe cocoons with people just like us while there is a world out there longing for God's hope?

“There are hurting people, Matthew. People who need to hear
that God loves them. A hurting woman had given up on herself until she realized God had not given up on her and never will. She finally found someone she trusts—me—and I can't walk away from that.”

“And what about my trust, Joy? What about the trust of the community? Those producers are making a spectacle of us. Can't you see that? I'll have to admit that at first I liked the attention of being an Amish person in a mostly
Englisch
community, but now I can't even work on someone's roof without people stopping to snap photos. Do we not have a right just to live a simple life without being under a spotlight?”

Joy paced across his living room and back, willing herself to calm. “You are wrong, Matthew. The producers aren't here to make a spectacle of us. Have you ever thought that with all the bad happening in the world, viewers simply want to be reminded that good still exists and that people can live simple, godly lives? Maybe it's okay to share hope, to share joy with people who are tired of all the reports of shootings and kidnappings and war.”

Matthew was silent then, but Joy could see from the hard look on his face that she wasn't winning him over. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe she needed to know how he really thought about their community and the world before marrying him. And maybe she was discovering a bit of herself too. A bit of her own heart.

Joy turned and moved to the front door. She paused but didn't turn around. She couldn't face him. She didn't want to see the anger and disappointment in his face. “I'm sorry things didn't turn out. I want you to know that I still think you're an amazing—”

“Stop.” Matthew's voice cut off her words. “I can't hear that now, Joy. Please stop.”

She nodded and then slipped out. Her flip-flops smacked the concrete on the walkway, and she quickened her pace. She didn't want to wait around to see if he'd come after her. She knew he wouldn't. Instead, she needed to get home as quickly as she could.

Yet with each step, fear roiled within her. What if this was her one shot at love? What if she never married? What if she never became a wife, a mother, all because of one decision? Was it worth it—worth taking the chance?

Her fear spawned a shot of adrenaline, and Joy began to run. She hadn't run like this since she was a girl, but she couldn't get home fast enough.

She rounded the block and raced to her house. She slowed slightly as she rushed up the porch steps and into the front door.
Mem
and Grace were in the kitchen talking. In the living room her
dat
was reading the
Budget
. They all looked up surprised as she passed, but she didn't pause.

Joy rushed to her room and threw herself onto her bed. The angry heat that had risen inside her turned cold, and then her body trembled. It was as if the ache that grew attempted to slip out through her skin. She rolled to her side and pulled her knees to her chest just as she had as a little girl whenever she was scared or afraid.

“O God.” The words came out as a whisper. “I need You, I need You.” She clenched her legs harder. “I can't do this without You. I don't want to do this without You. I've never needed You more.”

A cry heaved from her chest, and Joy covered her mouth, worried that her
mem
and sister could hear it. Sure enough, a few seconds later there was a knock at her bedroom door.