Her Amish Christmas Choice. Leigh Bale

Her Amish Christmas Choice - Leigh  Bale


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dealt with such things. But you’re doing a fine job. I’m sure it’ll be okay. And now, I’d better return to work. That back room isn’t going to clean itself out.”

      “Mom, why don’t you go lie down for a while? I know your joints are hurting and I don’t want you to overdo it.”

      “I’m fine, dear.” Sharon limped toward the hallway leading to the back of the building. Julia watched her go, worried about her despite her assurances.

      When she looked back at Martin, Julia saw that he’d laid a clean cloth on the porch and pulled out several slices of homemade bread, ham, two golden pears and thick wedges of apple pie. After compiling the bread and meat into sandwiches, Hank eagerly picked one up and almost took a bite. Martin stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. Without a word, Martin removed his hat and bowed his head reverently. Hank did likewise. For the count of thirty, the two held still and Julia realized they must be praying.

      She envied the close sibling relationship they shared. There was something so serene about their bent heads that she felt a rash of goose bumps cover her arms. Then Martin released a breath and they began to eat. While Martin chewed thoughtfully, Hank’s cheeks bulged with food and he glanced around with distraction.

      At that moment, Martin looked up and saw her. Julia’s face flushed with embarrassed heat. How rude of her to stand here and watch them. Yet, she couldn’t move away. She felt transfixed with curiosity. Especially when Martin gave her a warm smile. With his back turned, Hank didn’t notice her. Taking his sandwich, he hopped up and ran to climb the elm tree. Some unknown force caused Julia to step outside to speak with Martin.

      “Um, I hope you don’t think me impolite but can I ask what you were doing a few minutes ago?” she asked.

      Martin tilted his head to the side and blinked in confusion. “You mean when I was working on the porch?”

      She shook her head. “No, before you ate. You bowed your heads for a long time. Were you praying?”

      He nodded and bit into his pear, chewed for a moment, then swallowed. “Ja, we always pray before a meal. To thank the Lord for His bounty and to ask a blessing on our food. Don’t you do the same?”

      How interesting. How quaint, yet authentic.

      “No, I’m afraid not. I wasn’t raised that way,” she answered truthfully.

      But even as she spoke, she wondered why not. It seemed so appropriate to thank God for all that He had given her. Rather than being odd, it seemed right.

      She stepped nearer. “What do you say in your prayers?”

      “That depends.” He indicated that she should sit nearby on the porch and she did.

      “On what?”

      “Ach, sometimes we say the Lord’s prayer before a meal. If there is trouble brewing at home or a special blessing we need, I often mention that to Gott and ask for His help. Other times, we pray at church meetings as a congregation and as a familye. And still other times, we say personal prayers in private. Most of our prayers are silent but they all differ, depending on their purpose and what is in my heart.”

      Yes, she could understand that. She’d oftentimes carried a prayer inside her heart but had never spoken one out loud. Because frankly, she didn’t know how to do so.

      “Do you pray often?” she asked.

      “Ja, many times each day. Why do you ask?”

      With her father’s death, Mom’s illness, Dallin’s betrayal, financial problems and their recent move to Colorado, she’d needed to know God was nearby. To know that He was watching over them and she wasn’t alone. But her prayers were always in silence, spoken within.

      She shrugged. “I was just curious. I wasn’t really raised with prayer in my daily life. But there are times when I speak to God in my heart.”

      He lifted his eyebrows. “You believe in Gott then?”

      “Yes, I do.” Giving voice to her belief deepened her conviction. That God lived and was conscious of His children now in modern times, just as He had been in ancient times. She’d never really gone to church, yet she had decided for herself that she believed in a loving creator who was conscious of her needs. But unfortunately, she knew very little about Him.

      Martin flashed a gentle smile. “I often carry a prayer in my heart, as well. Gott is perfect and knows all things. He hears all prayers, even those we don’t speak out loud. Although He doesn’t always answer us on our timetable. When was the last time you prayed?”

      She took a deep inhale and let it go. “Yesterday, but I prayed most the night my father died. I couldn’t understand why God had abandoned us. But it’s odd. Instead of anger, I felt a warmth deep within my chest and an unexplainable knowledge that God was with us even during that dark time. And Mom became sick with lupus even before Dad was diagnosed with cancer. She helps with the soap making but she can’t do a lot. Still, I knew I’d find a way to take care of her. And then, a few months later, Carl Nelson called to say that my Grandpa Walt had passed away and left me this store. That’s when we moved here. So it seems the Lord heard and answered my prayers after all. I just wish my father hadn’t died.”

      Now why had she told Martin all of that? She didn’t know him. Not really. Yet she had confided some deeply personal things to him. She stiffened her spine, hoping Martin didn’t make fun of her.

      “I’m sorry you lost your vadder,” he said. “You and your mudder must have gone through a very difficult ordeal. But I’m so glad you recognize how the Lord has blessed you. I believe when we think all is lost, that is when Gott is testing us, to see if we will call on Him in faith or in anger. Yet, He doesn’t leave us comfortless. He is always with us if we seek Him out.”

      Martin’s words touched her heart like nothing else could. For a moment, she felt as though God truly was close to her. That He wasn’t a remote, disinterested God, who was withdrawn and didn’t really care about her and Mom.

      “Hank, don’t climb so far. Komm down now. It’s time for us to get back to work,” Martin called to his brother.

      Turning her head, Julia saw that the boy was high in the elm, clinging to a heavy branch. The boy looked over at them, saw Julia and immediately scrambled down.

      The enchanted moment was broken. Although she’d like nothing better, Julia realized she couldn’t sit here all day chatting with Martin. She had plenty of work to do. Honestly, she was stunned that Martin was so easy to talk to.

      “Well, I’d better get inside and help Mom. Thank you for answering my questions.” She came to her feet, dusting off her blue jeans.

      “Anytime,” he said.

      Hank came running, a huge smile on his face. “Hallo, Julia. Did you see how high I climbed?”

      “Miss Rose,” Martin corrected the boy with a stern lift of his eyebrows.

      Hank ignored his brother, focusing on Julia. “I went higher than ever before. I could even see the top of your roof. You have a big hole up there where the shingles have blown away.”

      Julia blinked, then glanced at Martin. “Oh, dear. A hole in the roof? And winter is coming on.”

      “Don’t worry. As soon as I’ve completed the porch, I’ll take a look at it,” Martin said.

      “But there are so many other chores needing to be done. I didn’t even think about the roof.” A feeling of helpless dread almost overwhelmed her.

      “Never fear. The Lord will bless us and it’ll all get done.”

      Martin sounded so confident. So sure of himself. So filled with conviction. She couldn’t help envying his faith. His words of reassurance brought her a bit of comfort, but what if he was wrong? What if they didn’t get the workroom set up in time?

      She


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