With K testing his new driving skills, he and I ventured out to the Farm on Saturday to visit Papa Soups. After a quick lunch, K and Papa headed back to the farm to build a shelf while Sue and I headed off to Kenton for a girls’ adventure.First stop was the county courthouse for the town’s annual Christmas craft show and wreath auction/fundraiser. It’s always a fun event—and truly nostalgic. Country grandmas set up booths and sell goose clothes, crocheted potholders, etc. In addition, artisans sell hand-carved pens and Santas, blown glass pendants and woven rugs. I was careful with my $20. I almost bought a handmade sock monkey, but ended up buying a small woven table runner and a bracelet made in the Philippines (for the Divine Miss M).
After that, we met up with the “Knit Wits” at Jitters Coffee Shop. Soups is ever-so-patiently trying to teach me to knit—again. I'm a slow learner. She is, without a doubt, a saint.
On the way home, we stopped at “Amish Barb’s” house. Barb sells Amish-style baked goods: pies, crunchy cookies (Sorry, I like ‘em soft), jellies, dry noodles, fresh eggs, and—depending on the season—produce. Papa Soups have kind of taken Amish Barb and her young family under their (Angel) wings. They make weekly stops and purchases, regardless of what they don’t need.
Visiting the Amish is always a great study in simplicity. As Soups talked to Barb about Thanksgiving, I surveyed the baked goods carefully—thinking of how I could save a little of my remaining $5 for the rest of the weekend … while still making a small purchase. I chose the pumpkin spice cake bars for $2.50. I paid for my purchase. Soon, I noticed pretty little girl (about 8 years old) peaking out from behind a curtain in the door. “That’s Leah,” Soups introduced the shy child with big brown eyes and slight smile. Leah studied me carefully … Make-up. Earrings. Santa pin on my coat. Jeans. I smiled back. I noticed the curtain was ripped. The bed in the room behind her was covered in a worn sheet.
Soon, a little tow-headed boy of less than 2 years old with curly locks came out of the door. He ran and hid behind his mother’s skirt. “This is Joseph,” Soups said. Joseph was too shy to greet the strangers, but I noticed the torn, homemade dress-like outfit he wore. His little face was smudged with dirt. Barb and Sue continued to chat. I noticed the straight pins holding Barb's simple blue dress closed. A kerchief held back her hair. She talked about how her business had been slowing down. She hadn’t been baking as many pies, lately. Why was I surprised that the economy crunch was affecting even the Amish?
I studied their humble home. Interesting. I know people who have far more than they do who consider themselves "poor"---living on welfare, collecting food stamps, getting their utilities and medical care paid for them, enjoying cable TV and very low rent payments—all without working. Yet the Amish people work tirelessly from dawn to dusk without complaint and with very little income. No whining about what the government is NOT doing for them. No high expectations for what everyone in the world owes them. They believe in community, something few of us know … except in the social media sense (which is kind of ironic, considering we hide behind our computers to even “converse”). Whatever the Lord dishes up for them, they accept with grace. We could certainly take a lesson from them in humility and gratitude.
I wandered back over to the cookies. $2.50 for the crisp chocolate chips with too much sugar in them. We don’t need these, I told myself as I picked them up. I paid for them. “The boys will love these,” I heard myself saying out loud. We headed for home.
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I’ve been reading Amy Grant’s autobiography, Mosaic. In it, she shares the story of an elderly friend who once told her … “When I’m laying in bed at the end of every day, I ask myself---Did I live this day in some way that paid tribute to the One who gave me this day?” I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately. I may not be changing the direction of the world, but I have to believe that sometimes the little things can make a positive difference. Even if it is only one crunchy cookie at a time.
