The Road Home

The-Road-Home-3

Jenny looked up at the sky as the red, purple, and pink of an Apple Creek sunset spread in glorious abandon across the deepening blue. As the sun dropped into the west, small clouds caught its last rays and reflected them downward to wash the trees with hints of golden glory. The sight made Jenny catch her breath. Across the sky to the east, the stars began to appear one by one, and as they did, they twinkled and sparkled in the indigo velvet like diamonds on display. A shooting star trailed low on the horizon and disappeared behind the trees.

Jenny felt the familiar tightness in her chest growing. She had felt it often in recent days, and sometimes it was so strong that she could hardly breathe. She forced herself to inhale slowly and deeply. She thought about her papa’s words and wondered if she should just forget about all the nonsense whirling around in her head. On the other hand, she didn’t like being treated like a child. She was old enough to make her own decisions.

Why does he treat me that way? I’m just like that star shooting across the sky. I love Apple Creek and my home, but sometimes I feel like I’m standing back and watching everything from the outside. If I hadn’t gotten lost, if Mama hadn’t found me…if things had been different, what would my life have been?

Jenny walked slowly down the path to the cooling shed to fetch the milk. The Springer farm stretched out before her. She could smell the hay that Papa had just put up in the barn, and with the smell came a rush of memories—being carried up to the hayloft in her papa’s strong arms, sliding down the big pile of hay and collapsing in a heap at the bottom, lying in the hay and watching the pigeons scrabbling along the highest beams. She sighed.

The cows mooed mournfully and the sheep bleated at her as she went by. The big Rhode Island rooster glared at her from his perch on the woodpile as his hens scratched for bugs in the dirt of the pathway. She grabbed up a stick lying by the path and began to herd the chickens back into their pen. The rooster jumped down and angrily defended his flock but eventually surrendered and meekly led the hens inside.

Summer in Apple Creek had come to an end, and the nip of fall was in the air. It was harvest time, and the men were working from dawn to dusk in the fields, bringing in the crops and putting them up for the winter. Soon Jenny would be spending her days with her mother and grandmother, canning the fruit and vegetables, cooking and salting the meat, and getting ready for the long, cold days ahead.

Once more the unwanted thoughts began to crowd into her head, and she felt a sudden chill pass over her. What would her life be like if she weren’t an Amish girl? Maybe she would be an Englisch girl getting ready for college or living in a big city. Since the car she was found in came from New York, maybe her birth mother still lived there. Maybe she was from a rich family, and they had been looking for her all these years and…She stopped short in the path and stilled her thoughts, wondering why she couldn’t be content with the life she had right in front of her.

Life for the Amish was an endless cycle that was intimately connected to the land and the seasons. Planting in the spring, tending the fields through the long summer, harvesting when the air grew crisp, and then waiting out the days when the snow blanketed the ground—quilting, sewing, reading the Bible, or just sitting before a roaring fire. And of course there were the winter feasts and family get-togethers. These things had been the routine of Jenny’s life, and in her younger days it had been enough.

She loved her home and especially her parents. They were so good to her, and she knew they loved her deeply. Her mama was a wonderful quilter, and her quilts were known throughout the Amish community and even out among the Englisch in the village and throughout Ohio. Once, when she was younger, she had asked her mama why she didn’t sell her quilts in some of the big Englisch stores or offer them in catalogs.

“There was a time I thought I wanted to do that,” Jerusha answered. “I was angry at God because I blamed Him for taking Jenna away. I was going to use my quilts to get out of Apple Creek and leave God and this Amish life behind. I was running away, but He put me right in the middle of a terrible storm. Then He showed me how wrong I was, how prideful and arrogant and faithless. And when I surrendered to Him, He led me to you to show me how much He really did love me.”

“But, Mama, your quilts are so beautiful. You could be famous, and we would make lots of money.”

“Yes, but when I was in that cabin, struggling to keep both of us alive, I remembered what my grandmother taught me when I was first learning to quilt. She had told me, ‘You’re too proud, Jerusha. This gift is not for you, but for those you can bless with your quilts. It is God working through you to touch others, and not to be held for yourself. You can’t take this gift and use it to bring attention or recognition to yourself.’

“I realized that God has given me this gift to bless others and not myself. Now I make the quilts for people in our village who really need them. It’s my way to thank du lieber Gott. So, Jenny, we won’t worry about your mama being rich and famous. What need do we have for money? We have each other and your daed and the land and the Lord. That is enough.”

Jenny remembered the question she had asked her mother. “Has God given me a gift that I can use to bless people, Mama?”

Jerusha took the girl in her arms and held her close. “Your very life is a gift and a blessing to your papa and me and to many others. God has given you a quick mind and courage and determination. Soon He will begin to open doors for you to walk through. When He does, you mustn’t hesitate, but you must do exactly as He says. Then you will discover who you are to be and what your place is in this world.”

Jenny realized she was standing in the middle of the path, lost in her thoughts. She wondered what someone who might come down the path would think about finding her standing stock-still and silent in the dark. She walked to the cooling shed and went inside. The ice blocks, cut from last winter’s frozen pond and packed in sawdust, had kept the insulated building cool all summer, and Jenny often slipped in there on hot days to refresh herself. She usually loved this place, but tonight it seemed cold and dark. She looked around at all the produce and goods her family had set aside, some of it especially for the holidays that would soon mark the end of the harvest season. She found the milk in the metal can, poured some out into the pitcher she had grabbed on her way out of the kitchen, and went back outside.

Jenny looked up at the night sky again, and suddenly her heart was filled with love for this place, for her parents, and for the ways of her people. In that quiet moment she decided she needed to put all the wondering behind her. She needed to get on with her life. The mystery of where she came from would just have to remain an enigma forever. She was Jenny Springer, and she was thankful for such a wonderful home. This is where her life was, and nothing could take her away.

Jenny turned and went back to the house. There! That was settled forever…no more thinking or dreaming—and then a thought popped unbidden into her mind. What if I’m the daughter of a rich family and stand to inherit millions? Or what if my real father is a famous musician or—

“Jenny, stop it!” she cried out loud.

From inside the house her mother’s voice called out to her. “Are you all right, Jenny?”

Jenny felt her face burning. Wonderful! Now I’m talking to myself. The people in the village all know I’m pushy. Shall I now add verrückt to their opinion?

“I’m fine, Mama. I’ll be right in.” I must get hold of myself ! This is the reality of my life. I will never find out where I came from or who my birth parents are, so I should just make up my mind to give up this hopeless dream!

When Jenny crawled into bed that night she couldn’t rest. She drifted in and out of sleep, tossing and turning. She tried praying, but that didn’t help. Finally around midnight she slipped into a troubled sleep. Her dreams were filled with strange places and people. She felt as if she were flying, and then a scene took shape in her mind. She was in the backseat of a car, and she was very cold and hungry. The man driving the car was drinking out of a bottle as the car sped down the highway. He was yelling and singing and weeping, and the car was swerving and jerking.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the waaayyyy.”

Terrified, Jenny clung to the door handle with all her might. Suddenly the car swerved off the road. It started to run up on a bank, but the man twisted the wheel and the car shot back onto the highway.

“Mama, Mama!” Jenny screamed.

The man reached back and tried to grab her. Jenny held on to the door handle and screamed again. She felt the man’s hand gripping her shoulder and pulling her toward him. She looked into his eyes. The pupils were like little pinpoints, and they terrified her. An evil grin spread across his face as he clutched at her.

“You want your Mama?” he asked. “I’ll send you to her right now.”

The man was turned toward her, not watching the road. The car shot off the road and over a bank. Everything seemed to go into slow motion. She felt the car lift off the ground and begin to roll over in midair. There was a sickening crash, and then they were sliding down a steep bank. Everything moved so slowly, and the man’s screams were low-pitched, as if someone were playing a recording too slowly. The car hit a tree and some rocks, but because everything was moving so slowly, it was all like a strange dance. Finally the car came to rest on its side at the edge of what looked like a snow-covered meadow.

Jenny had been thrown down between the front and back seats and then onto the side door, and she lay there, unable to scream or cry, frozen in terror. The man struggled around in the front seat, and his movements made the car roll over on its top. He fell heavily onto the roof and cried out. She was buried underneath the seat cushions and some clothing. The front seat had broken loose, and when the car rolled over, it fell down on the passenger side, blocking access to the back of the car. She saw his legs thrashing around and heard him groaning. Then she saw his hand try to reach around the broken seat, but he couldn’t get to her, so he started kicking at the front passenger door until it finally opened. A blast of bitter wind came in and chilled her to the bone. The man crawled out onto the snow, and as he did, the wind blew the door shut.