Hope deferred, p.6
Hope Deferred, page 6
The morning was soaked in dew, with the promise of another hot day. Anna and her mother were cooking tomatoes for spaghetti sauce and ketchup. At eighteen, Anna had acquired a rare quality of growing in grace and beauty, a tragic beauty, coupled with an inner sadness beyond her years.
She had joined the group her parents approved of, worked the jobs they thought were proper for a young lady, and very seldom, if ever, complained about her role in life. She was what her parents expected of her, a chaste and obedient young woman who was an example to all who encountered her.
For her mother to have the honor of achieving this upbringing meant more than anyone would know. It had been a goal, an objective, and by all accounts she had accomplished her heart’s desire.
But there was something that bothered her mother more and more these days, in spite of her deep satisfaction in Anna’s maturity and obedience. She seemed distant, withdrawn.
“Anna, the tomatoes are ready to be taken out to the stove in the laundry room.”
“All right.”
When she returned, her mother glanced at her, pondering the mask of serenity, the steady decline into quietness.
“How was your weekend?”
“Good.”
“What were you doing?”
“We were at the supper and singing.”
“Where was it?”
“Jonas Lapp’s.”
The short answers began to fluster her mother. Why couldn’t they have a normal discussion, like they used to?
“So, is it true Mandy is dating?”
“Not yet.”
“Who is her chappy?”
“Mom, no one says ‘chappy’ anymore.”
“Oh, really? I’m sorry.”
There was no reply.
She began again, valiantly picking up the threads of their fractured conversation.
“So she’s not dating?”
“No.”
“Well, you know the rules. You must be a member of the church to be allowed to date. I suppose she has given her life to Christ and will live accordingly?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause. The kitchen filled with the smell of cooking tomatoes, the windows reflecting the late morning sun, shining on the clean squares of heavy, recently installed flooring, the ferns in their shadowy corners lush and healthy. Everything around them spoke of good management, an enviable position of a properly maintained environment, with expensive taste and the funds to be able to acquire things of worth.
The walls were painted white with undertones of gray, accentuated by many framed pictures, plaques with various Bible verses imprinted in black calligraphy, and inspirational sayings everywhere. A daily devotional sat on the windowsill above the sink next to a wrought-iron book holder supporting the latest hymnbook. A small army of glistening glass canning jars stood on the countertop by a Tupperware container of rings and lids. Her mother’s pale blue dress and black bib apron created a pleasing contrast to the surroundings.
Today, however, a small line of tension played between her eyebrows. A certain lift of her shoulders betrayed the niggling impression that something was not quite right. Her own daughter made her feel ill at ease, a stranger in her own kitchen.
What to do?
“Anna, is something wrong?” she asked, with a penetrating look, a sadness she hoped to convey.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“But . . .”
And here she hesitated. To speak of the fact that she no longer confided in her mother was admitting it to herself, and to tell Anna how much this would hurt was relinquishing the control she had always exercised over her.
So she gave a small, self-conscious laugh.
“Oh, it’s all right, Anna. I’m just so glad your life is going well and that you’ll be joining church next year. We had always imagined you would make that commitment at sixteen years old, but we’ll look forward to it for next year now.”
There was no reply. In disbelief, her mother’s head swiveled in Anna’s direction and found her turning her back, opening a drawer to rearrange the contents, then closing it.
“I want to join another group, Mom.”
The mother’s heart plunged. She felt physically ill, reeled, caught the counter top with the back of both hands, her eyes large and frightened.
“Why?”
“I’m not happy with the Cardinals.”
“What is wrong with them? It is a large, popular group. Surely there are many pleasant young men who would make a suitable companion for you. You are surrounded by fine young Christians, Anna. You are one yourself.”
Anna traced the pattern on the linoleum with a bare toe, her face averted. How to tell her mother?
She could not begin to relate the chance meeting with David at Honeybrook Park. In the two years she had spent her weekends with the youth, it had all been a gray veneer of lost and hopeless feelings, watching the young men and knowing there was not a remote chance of wanting to start a relationship. The thought of marriage was incomprehensible. It was not that there was anything wrong with them, these fine young men with every good quality a girl could want.
They simply were not David. Dave, as he was now known.
How to explain to her mother? The leaping of her heart, the self-restraint to stay with the group of girls by the picnic table when the flashy, black sports car pulled into the parking lot and the passenger door flung open as David unfolded from the front seat.
David, the man of her dreams. The person who occupied her very last thought before she fell asleep, whose name was on her lips when she prayed, who was as familiar to her heart as her own parents and siblings.
Even more so.
Tanned, lithe, laughing, he was everything she could ever want. It was so much deeper than the appearance, of this she was positive. It was the quality they had always shared, the delight in each other’s minds, the way he spoke, his eyes shining with pleasure at some new and exciting discovery, some book he had read, an incident in the field or woods. It was the shared childhood that had blossomed into much more, a pure and innocent love between two young people long before they knew what it was.
And now, there was this vast difference in their way of life. Both parents were members of the Amish church, both baptized into the faith, but with far different expectations and ideals.
This divide loomed before Anna now. The distance between them was only a few hundred feet, if that, but a yawning chasm stretched in front of her, the wrenching knowledge that her parents would never bless this union. Dave simply did not check off all the boxes for what they wanted in a man who would marry their daughter.
She felt a rebellion so raw it took her breath away.
She sagged down on the bench of the picnic table, the weight of her life gone awry, her parents steering the vessel that contained her. Was it right for a mother and father to decide whom their daughter should marry? Was it done in this day and age?
She looked up, infinitely weary, the sadness in her eyes a pool of unfathomable depth. At that moment, David walked away from the group he was with. His eyes searched the small group of girls and found her, the gaze that tore at his heart.
There was nothing else to do but go to her. Without caring, the direct goal was to do something about the sadness in Anna’s eyes, the aura of unhappiness surrounding her.
On he came, their gazes locked. Both were breathless by the time he reached the picnic table. She stood, he reached out to shake her hand. Immeasurable, the look in his eyes, in hers.
“Anna.”
“David.”
“It’s Dave now.”
They both laughed. He dropped her hand, looked around, before putting his hands in his pockets.
“So . . .”
She nodded, found his eyes. Like coming home, bound to him in a circle of knowing there was a perfect place that took away all her doubts and insecurities, every anxiety about the future. He cared for her, still, as she cared for him. The separation they had endured had only proven to strengthen the bond between them.
“So . . . how are you, Anna?”
“I’m . . . okay. Good. You know, living my life.”
A self-conscious laugh to hide the surge of emotion, the lump that threatened to cut off her words, the sob that tore at her throat.
Oh Dave. Dave. Do you have any idea the misery of my indecision? The gray, uncharted waters of my existence? The pleas to a merciful father to show me right from wrong? What is this between us? Pride? Lust of the flesh? A carnal attraction to the beauty of one to the other? Always at the center, like the black clouds of a tropical storm on the horizon: my parents’ disapproval of you. Like roiling water against rocks, this alone is shaping me, molding me into the image they need and fully expect.
“Yeah, me too. Growing up.”
He laughed again, a self-deprecating sound.
“As in?” she questioned.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Bunch of stuff.”
A cramp seized her stomach, a sickening wrench of fear.
“What are you saying?”
“Oh, I dunno. Just stuff.”
Immediately her thoughts churned. So many things out there, the drugs and the alcohol, the wild parties, the girls, it was all real, a part of life that had to be faced, withstood, and finally denounced.
“Do you have to be with the . . . Indians?” the name of his group.
“No. But my brothers all were. Just sorta . . . you know, did what my parents figured I’d do. They think the Cardinals are too . . . well, self-righteous.”
“Yeah. Well, I dunno. My family is different than yours.”
“I know. Should that keep us apart?”
Her heart skipped and fluttered and left her light-headed. The strength left her body, her knees like jelly. She could not face him, so great was the euphoria at the thought of being with Dave every weekend. To share his exuberant, happy life. To listen to his accounts of ordinary, mundane things he painted in vivid verbal tones. The joy that was David, not Dave, but her David.
“I don’t know.”
The milling crowd of youth played a variety of games on the brilliant September day, the white clouds like remnants of white fabric woven into the sky; the grass a rich, vibrant green; groups of trees with the maple branches bearing the beginning of color; the youth in various shades of every color imaginable coupled with the traditional black aprons, trousers, and vests.
And on the bench, by the pavilion, stood the lone couple with the weight of indecision bowing their heads, Dave leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, examining the cement floor, Anna’s shoulders hunched.
Then in a low voice, she said, “Why couldn’t you join the Cardinals?”
“For you?”
“Yes.”
“I could, I guess.”
Shy, afraid of what she had suggested, Anna fell silent.
“I’d have to dust off my horse and buggy. Getting around in cars gets addictive. It’s easy to do.”
“No doubt.”
Then, “I’m only nineteen. It’s not fair to make you wait till I’m done with my rumschpringa.”
“It’s fair.”
“Why don’t you join my group?”
“My parents would never approve.”
“My best friend Wayne is interested in this girl over by Georgetown, and we could go around with them. You know, just hang out for a while. We’d be together every single weekend.”
In the end, he gave her his cell phone number, told her to call, leaving her stranded with her insecurities and a plethora of anxious questions that threatened to capsize the small amount of confidence she possessed. She watched him leave, the black sports car in reverse, the low throb of the costly engine. She knew with a young woman’s intuition that they were worlds apart.
Didn’t true love require sacrifice? If he loved her in the way she loved him, how hard would it be to give up the cars, the weekends with Wayne, and the youth who were with a faster crowd?
And if he didn’t?
She spent her days and nights questioning God, weighing the balance of what should be done in a situation that seemed beyond hope. To bring her mother into the maelstrom would tip the scales to the usual refusal to accept David. Oh, her admonitions never sounded like a storm—they were always smoothed over with polite kindness, the lukewarm words as artificial as the silk flowers in a vase in the living room.
Or were they?
Anna believed deep down that, in spite of her love for David, her parents cared tremendously. They only wanted what was best for her and saw nothing good in an attraction to someone they deemed unworthy. And here was the underlying struggle. Here is where the tempest lay. Was it fair, this judgment of David?
Anna looked at her mother with eyes clouded over in misery. “What is it, Mom, that you so do not approve of David?”
There. It was out. The question that snaked across a room on too many occasions, stuffed away, closed, simply too laden with portent. Anna had never before found the courage to ask the question, and so it had grown steadily bigger until there was no easy flow of words or feelings, only a stiff politeness, a forced smile, kind words.
Her mother’s back was turned for a long moment. She did not reply. When she did, there were tears in her voice.
“Anna, it’s not really disapproval. It’s . . . we just want better . . .” She stumbled, stopped.
Anguished words from Anna. “Better what?”
“Anna, his family. The way they . . . well . . . just are. I know, I know.”
Anna opened her mouth to speak.
“Let me finish. We simply have a different set of morals, of values and rules. Eli and Rachel are extremely liberal in their way of raising children. Yes, we are all Amish, but I fear for the loss-heit. Our ideals for you are to be married to a person who has been taught to love the Lord, to have morning devotion, to expect high morals from his children. Godly young people are so needed in the Amish church, and for change to occur, we need to start in the home.”
Anna sat, her head bowed. “But what do Eli and Rachel do that you don’t like?”
“This is hard, Anna. Really hard. To come out and say exactly what is wrong sounds harsh. Judgmental. And I don’t want to be that way. I only want to protect you from a future of unhappiness.”
“Mom, how could I? How could I be unhappy with David? I love him. There is no one else for me. For two years I have tried to become interested in others. I have truly tried.”
“You’re too young to date.”
“At eighteen? Really, Mom?”
She was dismissed with a wave of her mother’s hand, who then turned her back to see to the tomatoes. The conversation was officially over.
Anna moved in an aura of hopelessness the remainder of the day. She called David’s cell phone and heard only the confident, clipped tones of his message.
Oh, David, is that really you? Has the world encroached to draw you into its greedy maw? She pictured him carousing and drinking. Or worse.
As fall turned into the bitter winds of November, Anna became even more confused, weighing obedience, the right for her parents to judge Eli and Rachel, disobedience and its consequences, like pebbles rattling in a gourd, the constant harassment of guilt.
Would love overcome all these obstacles?
They talked regularly now. Two or three times a week she sat outside in her father’s office, after nine o’clock when her parents were sure to leave her alone. If they knew, they never let on. They simply allowed her to use the phone to call her friends without question.
And so their story began.
Anna and David took up where they had left off, uniting their hearts and minds with long phone conversations, sharing lives, enjoying one another’s company in the way they always had.
Anna’s parents noticed the difference, and were glad. Finally, after the first two years of rumschpringa they had their Anna back. She smiled, laughed, twirled around the house in bursts of energy, loved her sisters, and joked with her parents.
She was waiting. Waiting on David.
With no doubt, he would settle down and join the church after he gave his life to Christ. He wanted to do it the right way, confess his sin, and become a new person—born again.
Anna thrilled to hear the passion in his voice. He would be as committed to his religion as he was in all things in life. He would win over her parents and make them see what a fine young man he was.
CHAPTER 6
AND THEN, UNEXPECTEDLY, HE ASKED HER TO BEGIN DATING REGULARLY, bringing a swarm of questions and insecurities as frightening as the stinging bees.
Yes, yes, her heart sang, but . . .
What about joining the church? What about driving his horse and buggy? What about her parents?
It was cold in her father’s office, the gas heater turned to low, the bitter winds of January moaning about the building, driving wisps of snow in a cloud across the window. When Dave asked her, she began to shake uncontrollably. She wrapped her arms around her waist and held the receiver on one shoulder. Her teeth chattered so she spoke only to answer his questions. She had calmed herself sufficiently by the time he had run out of his outburst of words, speaking in a quiet tone of voice.
“Yes, Dave. I will accept. You know that. But I am not allowed to date until I am a member of the church. You know my parents’ rules, surely.”
“Yeah. I was afraid you would say that.”
There was a long pause as Anna absorbed the disappointment and resentment in his voice. For a moment she was surprised. It wasn’t as if her parents’ wishes were news to him. Didn’t he care? Did he expect her to blatantly disobey them?
Quickly, she checked the rising frustration in her chest. She just needed to stand firm and be patient, and surely he would have a change of heart. Love should overcome self-will, shouldn’t it? If he loved her truly it would not be a long time. But to begin a life with her by his side, by her parents’ wishes, he would need to give his life to Christ, take up the cross, and follow Him.
A wave of rebellion swept over her, then. Other girls were not required to meet these high standards, so why should she? Surely the love they had for one another would deem all of this unnecessary. Love never failed. The Bible said so.
