Plain Wisdom (23 page)

Life never stops changing, even for the Amish. Fortunately, our God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and yet He knows how to help us navigate every change we’ll encounter.

When I heard about a stranger’s set of circumstances, I longed to do something to help her. The woman, who spoke no English, had come to America to help her dying sister. After landing at the airport, the woman attempted to hire a taxi, but as soon as all her belongings, including her purse, were loaded, the alleged taxi driver drove off.

Tommy and I had no extra money to speak of. The few hundred dollars we did have was for that month’s mortgage payment. But our lack of funds didn’t ease my feeling that I should do something for this woman. So I cleaned out our storage room, closet, drawers, and cabinets, put a price tag on each item, and had a yard sale, which brought in nearly a hundred and fifty dollars.

I’d heard that an offering plate would be passed for her during a church service on the other side of town. I knew people with money would easily give a lot more than my paltry amount, but I had to follow my heart. I passed the money to her anonymously. I never even met the woman.

It wasn’t much, but it was all I had to give. And I had to trust that whatever that money couldn’t accomplish wasn’t my responsibility. I’d done my part, and I trusted that God would do His.

My sister Sarah became a grandmother for the first time at the age of forty. As she sat in the hickory rocker by the stove, gently rocking her newborn granddaughter, her joy knew no bounds. She held the pink bundle close to her heart as memories of her own firstborn replayed in her mind.

Ruthie, the new mom, brought out her own baby book. As Sarah turned the pages, she recognized her handwriting from years ago where she had filled in Ruthie’s weight, length, color of eyes and hair, and all the memorable firsts. Sarah also noticed that her daughter had filled in some blanks on her own.

When the book asked for one of the child’s fondest memories of a vacation, Sarah expected her daughter to have written about their trip to the beach in South Carolina or the week they spent on the coast of Maine touring lighthouses. But to Sarah’s surprise, Ruthie had written that the best vacations were the ones at home on the farm, when her mother packed a picnic lunch and took the kids down to the creek behind the barn. She and her brothers spent many a lazy afternoon wading in the water or riding the low-hanging branch of an uprooted tree that hung over the creek, pretending it was a horse. Then they would all sit under the shade tree and enjoy their picnic.

Tears blurred Sarah’s vision as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She had always leaned toward the simple things in life. Money was usually tight for the young farming family, but by giving what she could, Sarah gave her children one of the most important things a mother can give
—time
.

It touched her heart to know that her married daughter also treasured the simple things, remembering that time with family is important, no matter where it’s spent.

As a five-year-old, my brother Johnny loved playing in the family carriage while it was parked … without the horse hitched up, of course. His imagination could take him for miles. Unfortunately, this sport was strictly forbidden by our father.

One afternoon
Daed
came home from work earlier than usual and found Johnny playing in the forbidden carriage. Sticking his head in the door, Daed asked, “Son, why are you playing in the buggy when I’ve told you not to?”

His startled son replied, “Because … I didn’t know you were at home.”

In the face of such innocent honesty, Daed couldn’t keep a straight face.

I wonder how many times we adults try the same antic as that five-year-old. When we think our “Daed” isn’t looking, we do things we know aren’t right. But the Scriptures tell us that we can be sure our sins will find us out (see Numbers 32:23). I don’t want to be caught doing
something the Lord has told me not to, especially since I know that His rules are for my own good.

We all believe lies about ourselves at one time or another. You may know the lie you believe. Or your behavior might indicate that you believe a lie you don’t even realize you’ve accepted.

Most books—whether inspirational, secular historicals, women’s fiction, romance, suspense, or mystery—are built around one principle: what lie the characters believe about themselves.

One of my early childhood memories is of my mother reading to me before bedtime. For me, bedtime came really early. In spring and summer, the sun shone for a long time after I had to crawl into bed. I could hear other children playing in nearby yards and often wondered why I had to go to bed so much earlier than other five-, six-, and seven-year-olds. My conclusion was that I was such a pain that my family could only get relief by banning me to a room by myself.

I now know there were good reasons for my mom putting me to bed early during those years. She had health issues, including back problems. My dad left for work around four in the morning and returned home around five at night. The six of us had dinner together as a family, watched a television show, and then it was time for me, as the youngest, to go to bed.

How many times do we make something personal when it wasn’t about us at all?

Another lie we buy into comes from comparing our weakest area with someone else’s strongest area, to the point we start believing that we’re not any good at anything. We think of our uniqueness as oddness. Because we haven’t yet found where we fit, we decide we don’t fit anywhere.

The problem with lies is that there’s always a smidgen of truth inside them. Our challenge is to disbelieve the lies, and if we can’t do that, we must choose to believe God more than we believe the lies. I’ve found several Bible verses that help me stand against the lies that assail me. One
of my favorites is Philippians 1:6: “Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus”
(NIV)
. Another helpful verse is 2 Corinthians 10:12: “But they measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise.”

What lie do you believe about yourself? How will you combat that lie and begin to believe what God says about you instead?

Many times I’ve questioned certain things or desperately wanted an answer on a particular subject—an instant answer if possible. I wish I could ask God a question and have Him answer right back.

I enjoy almost all reading, but I’ve never been fond of reading instructions. I’ve attempted to put grills, strollers, highchairs, and even a swing set together without studying the manuals first. I’d rather bake from memory than bother with a cookbook. Only when all else fails do I finally give in and get out the much-needed directions.

Then one day I came across 2 Timothy 3:16: “All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.” Those words reminded me of how stubborn I am with assembly instructions. But I also realized that I was the same way with some spiritual matters.

Since the authors of the Bible were inspired by God Himself, Scripture is the next best thing to having a one-on-one talk with Him. The Bible is our instruction manual for life.

Realizing my challenge with instructions and the “head knowledge” I gain when I read them, I had fresh incentive to read and study the Bible for “heart knowledge.”

I love writing. I love spending long days and nights in my home office with the window open and research books all around me.

I’m an introvert, and I’ve heard that most fiction writers are. Being introverted is not the same as being shy, although shy people are often introverted. An introvert draws strength from quietness and solitude. An extrovert draws strength from get-togethers and other people-oriented events.

The first time I realized how much of an introvert I am, I was seventeen and on a first date. I had taken the time to straighten my long hair and do my nails and makeup and had even bought an especially nice-looking outfit. Our plan was to meet up with a group of friends at someone’s home and have pizza. When my date asked if we could go to a drive-through for dinner instead, I felt tremendous relief wash over me.

Prior to that I’d often avoided going out, usually with the excuse that I wasn’t “pulled together” enough. But at that moment it became clear to me that even at my best, I preferred quiet seclusion. I was a true introvert.

After going to the drive-through, my date and I went for a long, quiet stroll in a nearby park and tossed breadcrumbs to the ducks. The only way I would have enjoyed that night more was if I’d been alone with a pen and a journal.