A Bushel and a Peck

“What you do speaks so loudly I can’t hear what you are saying.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

If my father said it, he meant it; whether it was punishment or prize, I knew he would never lie to me if I needed answers or had questions. His word meant everything to him. He showed me the love of a Heavenly father by being an excellent earthly father. Big enough to admit when he was wrong yet strong enough to remain unmoved by my childish ways.

Purple hull peas are one of my family’s favorites. We can eat them by the bushel. There is nothing like a pot of peas slow cooking on the stovetop, seasoned with garlic, onion, and hambones. The aroma drifts through the house, leaving everyone waiting to eat. Set the table with a bit of raw onion, homemade pepper sauce, and cornbread. That’s southern goodness in a bowl.

Chuck and I had recently traveled to Amish country, about an hour north of us. We like to ride up there and get fresh produce and handmade items. This particular time we had hit the jackpot. We found a gold mine of produce at one specific Amish house.

We put in our order for two bushels of purple hull peas. It would be three weeks before the peas were ready. The man mentioned that his sons would be out in the fields picking peas early on that Friday morning, so he told us to come around noon.

Keep in mind the Ordnung of this Amish community did not allow modern conveniences of most sorts; there were some exceptions but not many. He was taking us at our word that we would be back in three weeks.

The week arrived in August for us to get our purple hull peas. Sadly, my husband said farewell to his grandmother early in the same week, someone who had left quite an impression on him. She always had something kind to say and perhaps a little sarcastic if you sat and listened long enough. In the nine years that I knew her, it wasn’t hard to see what she loved; family photos and flowers. I was sure she and I would get along just swell. And we did.

The funeral arrangements were for that coming weekend. We needed to be heading South on Friday, not North to pick up peas. With the funeral on the same day, we could not keep our scheduled time to pick up our peas. On top of which, there was no way to let the man know. I comforted Chuck by saying, “I am sure the Amish family would understand if they knew the reason we didn’t come get our peas.” He never said a word.

On Thursday, I received a call earlier than usual from Chuck. He had already left work and was headed to the Amish community (a two-hour trip from his office, one way). I quickly reminded him that our pick-up time was not until tomorrow. To which he countered, “I may have to go out in the field and pick the peas myself, but I won’t have the Amish man thinking I didn’t show up.”

Over a sink full of dishes, I dried my hands and my eyes. In part, I am sure my emotions were already on the tip, but then, I couldn’t help but see the times my father made the same type of decisions.

It is in daily living that our children catch a glimpse of what heaven must look like.

The Amish gentlemen never knew the pangs it took my husband to get to him that week. But I did. His decision marked me with an unwavering resolve to keep my promises, not that I don’t, but the importance of what we say was put in perspective over two bushels of purple hull peas.

Sometimes I think if I have to pick up one more pair of socks off the living room floor or follow the trail of open cabinets from Chuck’s journey through the house, I’m going to let him have it! But then, late at night, I see him walk outside to make sure the tire pressure is ok on my vehicle, or watch him package away deer meat, so we have extra stored up for the year, or still, I see him sit and fix the vacuum that I have clogged yet again. Then I think to myself, picking up socks isn’t too bad.

Unplanned mileage and personal grievances aside, my husband kept his word to the Amish man that week. Let me encourage you, tell those closest to you how proud you are of them and that you love them- a bushel and a peck.

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“…He who swears to his own hurt and does not change.” Psalms 15:4

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