Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

"First she said she thought she could;

Then she said she couldn't;

Then she said she guessed she would;

Then she said she wouldn't.

First she smiled a teardrop;

Then she frowned a shower,

Turned the sky from gray to blue

And back within the hour.

Winsome as a sweetheart,

Demanding as a shrew,

Wouldn't say exactly

What she planned to do;

Somber as December,

Radiant as June,

Faithful Spring will pay the piper ­

Faithless April calls the tune."

"April Foolishness" is what Julia Collins Ardayne titled her poem. Although I wouldn't call April foolish, it does keep us guessing, this year in more ways than one. Many of the usual things we took for granted in our lives hang in limbo. The plans on our calendar are crossed off and postponed to an unknown date, including Easter Sunday Communion services for New Enterprise church. Good Friday Preparatory services for them didn't happen either.

For us, since March 15, sermons on the phone is the closest we came to any of our former worshiping, which actually isn't very close. There are no handshakes or fellowship and we can't help sing, but we are thankful for sermons on the phone to feed our hungry souls.

There was also another publication for a couple with plans to marry on April 28, Lord willing. Randal Weaver, youngest son of Tim and Lydia Weaver, will be the bridegroom for his bride, Amy Zimmerman, oldest daughter of Mark and Lucy Zimmerman, all of Martinsburg.

When our daughter-in-law, Marilyn, ended up in the hospital with appendicitis, none of us were allowed to visit her, not even her husband or her 8-month-old son, Marquis. We are thankful for the people who stepped up to help them with the children while she was there and also for the helpers after she came home to recover. Lessons for the children were on the agenda, too.

When I called to read from their story "Carry On, Mr Bowditch," Gerome had to finish his math page first. When they called back, we learned the meaning of "sail by ash breeze." Sometimes when the winds stopped blowing, the ship on the sea wouldn't move. Without diesel fuel, they were becalmed. In the 1700s that meant the sailors had to oar with their oars which were made out of ash wood.

Not being sailors, however, we don't row when it's calm or tend to our sails when it's windy. The weather, however, is a common factor for old-time sailors and farmers. We always pay close attention to all weather. When the wind dried out our soil last week, my husband and I worked together to pick rocks so he could make a fine seed bed to sow alfalfa seeds.

When the wind was calm and the sun hidden with ideal temps, I exerted myself to dig up hostas and chop them apart to plant again. When the lightning flashed that night and thunder rolled with wind-driven rain, we thought about the alfalfa seed bed and willed the rain to be gentle and not soil-eroding.

When the snow coated our gardens, we hoped our little plants would persevere and never mind it. We hoped the purple martins would survive the cold snap to resume their summer songs. When the grass grew thick and green, we began mowing lawn again. Meanwhile, bluebirds hide little blue secrets and the sound of turkey gobbles carry on the evening breeze.

"In every trembling bud and bloom,

That cleaves the earth, a flowery sword,

I see Thee come from out the tomb,

Thou risen Lord.

Thou are not dead! Thou art the whole

Of life that quickens in the sod;

Green April is Thy very soul,

Thou great Lord God."

~ Charles Hanson Towne