Ficly

the seed's been planted

When the call came for dinner I gathered my peaches and tied my pocket money into the pouch I’d made with scraps from the sewing bin. I ran into the house yelling to Momma, “Momma, Momma! The English moved in today! The Yoder’s cousins, from Oregon!”

Momma swatted at me for not minding my manners, but asked me about the new family. “It’s a husband and wife and their son. Do you know the Yoder’s cousins? What are they like, why aren’t they Amish too?” I had a zillion questions rushing through my head.

“Daniel Yoder was Amish but when he was out on rumspringa he met Megan and left our community to marry her. They moved near her parents, but he never forget his roots. I think that’s why the Yoder’s left their house to him.”

“Will they become Amish now that they’re here?”

“I don’t know love. Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. That’s something that between them and God.”

“Can we bring them something, to welcome them? Please?”

“Okay love.” Momma kissed my forehead and got the fresh bread from the kitchen.

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