Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

The accumulation of fabric fragments under my feet distracted me. As I kicked them aside again I thought about the second law of thermodynamics which states that "the total amount of energy in the universe remains unchanged, but some energy is always becoming unavailable for useful work."

This "law" plagues us. For a week of cozy wood heat, I carry out a pan of dusty, unwanted ashes. For a hot meal to relieve hunger pangs, I let dirty, unwanted dish water flow down the drain. For clean clothes to wear, there is even more, dirty, unwanted water.

Often the amount of unwanted substance is more than the "wanted," like a gallon of fresh milk or sausage on the grill. When we put sweet corn in the freezer, the husks and cobs are much more than the golden kernels we scoop into boxes. A colossal head of cauliflower is still much smaller than the remaining plant I must wrestle from my garden.

I don't know much about the waste of nuclear energy and have never seen a landfill or an incinerator. But I see peanut hulls and wood shavings at the feet of our cows for bedding. I've dumped a bag of wood pellets into a stove and used cardboard and newspaper for mulch in my garden. Beside my brother's huge outdoor furnace which heats his greenhouses, I saw trash, pelleted and dried, ready for useful work. The idea of creating usefulness from waste, appeals to me. I am always amazed at the beauty of a finished comforter, which except for the batting in the middle, was constructed from someone's unwanted materials. It is rewarding work to help someone in this way.

But last week boredom of the task almost drove me to distraction. I was thankful for the diversion on Friday when my friend took me to our daughter's house. I took a meal along to celebrate her birthday, complete with chiffon cake with pale pink seven minute frosting. The children had been anticipating my coming for days, because I was a diversion for their cabin-fevered days.

It was the only cloudy day of the week, but we hardly noticed in our joy of each other in our fun-filled day. Tyson, age 6, and Conner, age 3, showed me the booklets they made. One had pictures of things God made, the other had all man-made items. They sang the song, "This is my Father's World" while we yanked unwanted sprouts off potatoes. They were such willing helpers and we were soon done.

Lyla, age 20 months, chattered excitedly about packing empty canning jars into boxes, but I was wary of her willingness to help. She bid me "night-night" after lunch for her nap. When she woke, I was gone. I didn't hear her calls for me to be there.

Back on the farm, I was milking cows while Blessing, the new heifer, extended our usual chore time because she repeatedly resisted her first milker application. But our driver was patient about our tardiness for a ride to Muley Lane. Here were quartet songs, friendly chats, and cookies and ice cold root beer.

Most bodacious, however, were the pictures of the new set of twins in the family. Born to first time parents, Emily Beth and Eric Seth, also made two new sets of grandparents. Besides the two families of new aunts and uncles to rejoice in this exciting news, Ammon and Ella Martin and Allen and Miriam Garman are now in the role of great-grandparents. Norman and Anna Reiff already have twin grandsons, but these babies are their great-grandchildren.

The sun came back on Saturday afternoon. Although the snow-kissed breezes were cold, my daughter and I were warm inside the greenhouse where we transplanted seedlings for future summer flowers. Logan, age 6, and Kaitlyn, age 8, helped, too, but mostly, they were helpful in caring for Kameron, age 12 months. Trevor, age 3, joined us, too, after a little nap in the sun.

The singing was along Furry's Orchard Road for the youth group. At Piney Creek church, our young visitors were from New Enterprise area. The afternoon sun melted the snow to uncover daffodils pushing from an earthen grave, coaxed by longer daylight hours. Over the muddy meadow, killdeers called.