Sewn with Joy (35 page)

“Joy, are you all right?” Grace's voice carried through the wood of the door. Her younger sister no doubt heard her sobs.

“I don't want to talk now if it…it's all right.”

“
Ja
, of course.”

The retreating footsteps told her Grace was respecting her wishes. Knowing that, Joy pressed her face farther into her pillow, wishing for the first time ever that Jesus was there and that she could snuggle into His arms and hear His whispered words. Words that told her everything was going to be all right.

I've never needed You more, God
, she prayed again.

The amazing thing was that even as she lay there, she wondered if she'd ever truly needed God before now. Sure, she'd had some troubles growing up, but even then she was able to handle them herself. And for the problems she couldn't handle alone she'd had help—from her
mem
, her
dat
, her sisters.

But now she needed God, and she wanted Him like never before. It was a new feeling—a feeling of brokenness. And as much as it hurt, she knew Elizabeth was right. This was the exact place God wanted her to be.

Matthew paced in his shop, and he'd never felt so close to losing control. Something heated and tense within him wanted to pick up his stack of wood and hurl it piece by piece across the room. But what good would that do? His parents had arrived home not long after Joy left, and if he started throwing wood they would hear. They'd see the mess. His
dat
would try to talk to him, and the last thing he wanted was to talk to his
dat
right now.

He had to get out of there. He had to think. But where could he go? He couldn't even leave the house and walk down the street without being surrounded by people. He could go to the park and walk into the wooded area, but he'd have to pass a hundred people he knew to do it, and they'd all look at him with either pity or
accusation. Pity that the woman he was courting had chosen to work on the television show instead of choosing him. And accusation that he'd chosen her in the first place. After all this time, after all his waiting to find the right woman to marry, he'd chosen wrong.

He was angry with her and angry with himself for getting angry. He wasn't one to act like this. He knew he had to get control of himself, but his knees trembled and his gut tightened—proof that he was far from being in control.

Matthew tore his hat from his head and threw it to the floor. Then he picked it up and placed it firmly on his head, realizing he had to leave before he suffocated. Even his shop, his private sanctuary, was filled with thoughts of her. Shame heated his face even now, and he opened the side door of their garage and stormed out, riding on his wave of anger.

Thirty-One

The yoke of God does not fit a stiff neck.

A
MISH PROVERB

T
hey were behind on filming, and since they'd had a few half days during the previous week, Rowan decided to finish the week's filming on Saturday.

Joy was thankful she'd told Rowan she'd be in late. By the time she quit crying after talking to Matthew and had washed her face, it was nearly noon. A heaviness weighed on her, remembering their exchange of words that morning.

She was also thankful no one was in the house when she was ready to leave, and she nearly got to the front door when she remembered Rowan had asked her to bring in her Bible to use as a prop. She returned to her room, retrieved it from the bookshelf, and then pressed it to her chest. She didn't want to know what Matthew would think of them using her actual Bible as a prop in their television show. No, she couldn't think of that.

She'd taken only a few weary steps when a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. It was a piece of notebook paper that had been torn and folded. Without having to look, Joy knew the words written on the page in neat, ten-year-old print:

“For this day is holy unto our L
ORD
: neither be ye sorry; for the joy of the L
ORD
is your strength” (Nehemiah 8:10).

She tucked the paper into the Bible and let those words replay in her mind:
For the joy of the Lord is your strength.
She'd liked the verse as a child because it had her name in it. That's why she'd chosen to memorize it all those years ago, but the more she thought about it the more it made sense. A person only needed strength when they were weak. And when one was weak it was hard to be joyful. It was almost impossible to make yourself joyful when everything was going wrong, but could God make that possible?

She thought of that phrase again.
Joy of the Lord.
Joy from Him.

As she exited the house, she breathed a quick prayer. “Lord, I need joy, but at this moment joy seems very far away. I know joy comes from You, though, so please give me what I cannot give myself. Amen.”

The prayer was simple, yet Joy knew it was important. It was one of the few times she'd turned to God instead of attempting to care for herself.

It was also important because she didn't want Alicia to know everything that was happening. Her friend had enough to worry about. It wasn't that she wanted to hide her problems, but rather that they would be too hard to explain. Unless one was raised in an Amish church and home, the disagreement between her and Matthew would make no sense.

The roadway was busier than it had been a few weeks ago, and Joy knew it was because more and more people were coming down for the season. Cold winds from the northern states blew many snowbirds to their warm, Southern nests.

Yet more Amish meant more awareness of the television show. And more awareness would be more talk, and more talk would
mean people all over their town would be writing to their friends back home, telling about the
Englischers
who were trying to portray them on television. More than that, they'd all be sharing about the Amish woman who was helping the
Englischers
. She thought she'd gained attention when her quilt won a blue ribbon at the fair, but that would pale in comparison to this. It wasn't what she wanted to be known for.

Her stomach growled, and Joy realized how little she'd eaten the past few days. Yoder's Produce loomed ahead, and since she had plenty of time before she had to be at the studio, she decided to slip in and pick up a couple of pieces of fruit.

Joy grabbed an orange and a banana. On a whim she picked up a box of whoopie pies she knew Alicia and Georgia would enjoy. Joy stood in line behind an Amish woman she'd seen before. Joy believed she was here with a group from Ohio and was almost certain she'd been at the last sewing frolic.

“It's getting chilly out there, isn't it?” Joy rubbed her arms for emphasis.

“At least there's not snow like back home,” the woman commented as she turned. She seemed to recognize Joy when she turned around, but then she quickly looked away.

“My sister's in Kentucky,” Joy offered. “It's been a hard winter there. She's looking forward to coming down next week.”

The woman's mouth pursed but she continued staring off to the side, ignoring Joy completely.

From somewhere in the store a baby cried. Behind Joy, the door opened and two
Englisch
women walked in on their lunch break. Joy had the urge to explain to the Amish woman ahead of her why she was working with the television production team, but then she changed her mind. She wasn't going to change this woman's opinion of her no matter how she tried.

With a heavy heart, she paid for her items when it was her turn at the cashier and then hurried toward the set. No longer hungry, she left the orange and banana on the picnic table outside Big Olaf's as she passed, hoping someone would enjoy them. She kept the box of whoopie pies but lost the joy of giving them.

She walked a few more minutes, and the warehouse lot loomed before her. A few Amish men mulled around outside, peering through the chain-link fence and trying to figure out what was happening. Charlie, the faithful security guard, stood by his post, and she waved at him. Joy didn't slow her steps as he stood, opened the gate, and waved her through.

There was finality in those steps. Once inside, stepping in front of the camera again, there would be no going back. All her life she took pride in being Amish. She took pride in her ability to make good choices and to excel at quilting.
Pride in your work puts joy in your day
,
Mem
had told her more than once. But from this moment on she could no longer take joy in those things. No, now her joy would simply have to come from the Lord. She was doing this for Him, and as long as she remembered that, as long as she continued to look ahead instead of looking over her shoulder, she'd be all right.

Abraham leaned against the wall. “I don't get you.”

“What do you mean?”

Matthew had decided if he couldn't be alone he might as well work. He needed this job and needed the money, although not nearly as much as if he were still planning for a wife soon.

“A beautiful woman loves you. You can see it in her eyes. It's also clear that you love her too, so what's keeping you apart?”

“She made a choice.”

“It's a television show.” Abraham let his hand with the hammer drop to his side. “She's making sure they portray us the right way. I think people should be thanking her.”

“She's doing more than that.”

“Are you talking about the acting?”

“Of course I am.”

“And how does that make her any different from those ladies who are over there cooking up all that food for them? And how are we any different, working on this cottage for
Englischers
, for that matter?”

“It's very different. I can't even see how you think it's the same. It's making a graven—”

“Don't you start with that ‘making a graven image' business. Do you really think when the Israelites were in the desert, God was thinking about television shows being made thousands of years later? I'm
ne
minister or bishop, but my
mem
and
dat
read me the Bible. If I were to guess, that commandment is talking about making an idol and worshipping it instead of God.”

“
Ja
, that's one man's opinion. The whole community thinks differently. Most Amish communities don't allow photographs. And that probably means they don't allow videotaping, since it's a series of pictures.”