of butterflies in her stomach.
“Oh, it won’t be so bad when the time comes,” Rebecca comforted her.
“Come on, let’s go. It’s almost time to eat,” Sara Ruth said.
So they walked the remainder of the way up the wooded hillside, the four of them in their bright dresses making a colorful scene against the backdrop of green leaves. As they neared Ben and Lydia King’s home, they all remarked over Lydia’s perfect flower beds and garden.
“She even has cabbage and lettuce that looks absolutely healthy!” Rebecca said excitedly.
“What’s so thrilling about that?” Lizzie wanted to know.
“Oh, a lot. We’re moving onto a produce farm, you know, so I’ll be busy helping Reuben with all kinds of vegetables and things. Imagine! We’ll have about a hundred times the amount of this garden.”
Lizzie looked at Rebecca closely. Sure enough, the enthusiasm shining from her pretty blue eyes was genuine. Unbelievably, she did look forward to all that work.
Lizzie shook her head incredulously. “Rebecca, I can’t believe you. How can you look forward to toiling in a huge garden every day?”
Rebecca stopped and stared at Lizzie. Then she spread her hands wide and laughed. “See, Lizzie, you just don’t get it. Not everyone is alike. Look at Mandy, way down the 842 on her dairy farm. Is she happy? Huh? Is she?”
Lizzie burst out laughing. “Stop it, smarty.”
“Well, just because you don’t like cows and get depressed thinking about growing produce doesn’t mean Mandy and I do, too. We’re just not all alike.”
All the girls burst out laughing. It was just Rebecca’s way, turning an ordinary sentence into a statement.
Lizzie slipped her arm through Rebecca’s and squeezed her hand. “All right, I understand. Stop acting like Mandy.”
Rebecca grinned at her, and Lizzie’s heart swelled with love for her true friend, because that’s what she was. Stephen’s sister or not, she would always be a special friend, one whom she hoped to remain friends with all the days of their lives.
That evening on the way home from the hymn-singing, Lizzie felt so much love and gratitude for having Stephen in her life. He was not a dairyman or a produce farmer, and he was building a new house for her, albeit with the white bricks he had chosen. She sighed happily, thinking how perfect he was for her.
“Tired?” Stephen asked.
“No, just happy. Stephen, I’m so glad you’re not a dairy farmer or a produce farmer, I mean, a person who grows vegetables on one huge acre after another. I don’t think I would marry you if you were. Can you imagine Reuben and Rebecca?” she asked.
“Sure, I can imagine Rebecca. She loves to garden.”
Lizzie slipped her arm into his and said softly, “But, oh, Stephen, I’m so glad you’re a carpenter.”
They rode together in silence for a short time before he asked her if that was the only reason she had agreed to marry him.
“Of course not, Stephen. There are many other reasons. But you know as well as I do that I could never look forward to slaving in a produce field or milking cows. I would give up to it if I had to, but I probably wouldn’t be very happy, at least sometimes.”
Stephen laughed wryly. “Likely not. Giving in is not one of your strong points.”
“Ouch!” Lizzie said, smiling.
“That’s all right. I will probably like a wife with a little spunk.”
Lizzie smiled to herself. Stephen was so right for her. She wondered what had taken her so long to see it. Life was amazing, or rather, God was amazing, the way he worked things out. Even if you resisted his will at first, he just did what was best for you until you were ready.
Like knowing Stephen was the one for her. How could she have known if he hadn’t gone away for a while? And how did he know she had to have that time without him? Probably God, same as always. He put in people’s heads things that were right until his perfect will was made manifest, like the Bible
“Oh, it won’t be so bad when the time comes,” Rebecca comforted her.
“Come on, let’s go. It’s almost time to eat,” Sara Ruth said.
So they walked the remainder of the way up the wooded hillside, the four of them in their bright dresses making a colorful scene against the backdrop of green leaves. As they neared Ben and Lydia King’s home, they all remarked over Lydia’s perfect flower beds and garden.
“She even has cabbage and lettuce that looks absolutely healthy!” Rebecca said excitedly.
“What’s so thrilling about that?” Lizzie wanted to know.
“Oh, a lot. We’re moving onto a produce farm, you know, so I’ll be busy helping Reuben with all kinds of vegetables and things. Imagine! We’ll have about a hundred times the amount of this garden.”
Lizzie looked at Rebecca closely. Sure enough, the enthusiasm shining from her pretty blue eyes was genuine. Unbelievably, she did look forward to all that work.
Lizzie shook her head incredulously. “Rebecca, I can’t believe you. How can you look forward to toiling in a huge garden every day?”
Rebecca stopped and stared at Lizzie. Then she spread her hands wide and laughed. “See, Lizzie, you just don’t get it. Not everyone is alike. Look at Mandy, way down the 842 on her dairy farm. Is she happy? Huh? Is she?”
Lizzie burst out laughing. “Stop it, smarty.”
“Well, just because you don’t like cows and get depressed thinking about growing produce doesn’t mean Mandy and I do, too. We’re just not all alike.”
All the girls burst out laughing. It was just Rebecca’s way, turning an ordinary sentence into a statement.
Lizzie slipped her arm through Rebecca’s and squeezed her hand. “All right, I understand. Stop acting like Mandy.”
Rebecca grinned at her, and Lizzie’s heart swelled with love for her true friend, because that’s what she was. Stephen’s sister or not, she would always be a special friend, one whom she hoped to remain friends with all the days of their lives.
That evening on the way home from the hymn-singing, Lizzie felt so much love and gratitude for having Stephen in her life. He was not a dairyman or a produce farmer, and he was building a new house for her, albeit with the white bricks he had chosen. She sighed happily, thinking how perfect he was for her.
“Tired?” Stephen asked.
“No, just happy. Stephen, I’m so glad you’re not a dairy farmer or a produce farmer, I mean, a person who grows vegetables on one huge acre after another. I don’t think I would marry you if you were. Can you imagine Reuben and Rebecca?” she asked.
“Sure, I can imagine Rebecca. She loves to garden.”
Lizzie slipped her arm into his and said softly, “But, oh, Stephen, I’m so glad you’re a carpenter.”
They rode together in silence for a short time before he asked her if that was the only reason she had agreed to marry him.
“Of course not, Stephen. There are many other reasons. But you know as well as I do that I could never look forward to slaving in a produce field or milking cows. I would give up to it if I had to, but I probably wouldn’t be very happy, at least sometimes.”
Stephen laughed wryly. “Likely not. Giving in is not one of your strong points.”
“Ouch!” Lizzie said, smiling.
“That’s all right. I will probably like a wife with a little spunk.”
Lizzie smiled to herself. Stephen was so right for her. She wondered what had taken her so long to see it. Life was amazing, or rather, God was amazing, the way he worked things out. Even if you resisted his will at first, he just did what was best for you until you were ready.
Like knowing Stephen was the one for her. How could she have known if he hadn’t gone away for a while? And how did he know she had to have that time without him? Probably God, same as always. He put in people’s heads things that were right until his perfect will was made manifest, like the Bible
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