This article is part of “The Amish Cook Column”, a weekly series featuring a story and recipe from Gloria Yoder, an Amish wife and mother of six from Flat Rock, Illinois.
Family life took some unexpected turns this past week. Fevers, coughing fits and sleepless nights found six children gathered in the living room while I came and went through the night. It wasn’t what we would have chosen, but those long hours together produced memories we’ll likely cherish.
What could be more precious than tending a feverish child and feeling the bond deepen in those quiet, intimate moments? I found myself imagining the future and knowing that in twenty years even these difficult nights will be remembered fondly.
I told God that if He keeps me healthy, I’ll keep caring for my little flock. I’m grateful for medicine and rest when illness comes, but sometimes a bug simply must run its course.
The children had been waiting for colder weather for weeks. Confined to the house, they watched in wonder as snow silently covered the ground and kept falling. “When may we play in the snow?” they asked with a bit of worry in their voices.
Julia suggested making maple snow candy and the idea captured everyone’s imagination. Even the feverish ones could enjoy small pieces of the sweet treat.
Because the bird feeder sits outside the kitchen window, the children couldn’t always see the birds. I moved a small table onto the front porch and sprinkled feed on it. After a day or so the birds discovered the offering, and the children were delighted to watch them flutter and peck close by.
Sometimes I get creative to occupy active minds and hands. I promised that if they were sick for a week we’d do something they’d never done before: a toilet-paper unroll. Their drooping eyes brightened at the idea. “We’ll each have a roll and can unroll it however we like,” I explained. They began counting the days. When the time came they were well enough to join in and we had a blast—rolls skimming across the floor, sailing through the air, and winding around giggling children. Their personalities showed in the speed at which the rolls disappeared. They begged for more, but I promised we’d only do it again if they were sick another week—and I’m not asking for that!
A few days into the flu, little Joshua started to feel left out as older siblings absorbed most of my attention. He wanted to be held. I set my songbook aside, pulled him into my lap, and soaked up the closeness. A sick child lay stretched out on either side of me, with another on a mattress at my feet.
Later I played a game of memory with Joshua, and it filled his love tank so he was ready to play again. Yes, he eventually caught the bug too. When something bothers him he curls up close and takes in as much closeness as possible. I treasured those moments—children are only little once.
There were times I couldn’t get to every child as quickly as I wanted, whether to replace cool washcloths, mix electrolytes, or hand out supplements. I explained that while there really is enough love for each person, there is only one mother. We missed Daddy’s late-afternoon arrival those days. My dear mother stopped in daily, and friends dropped off food and helped with the children so I could catch my breath and sometimes take a short nap.
Chore time gave us a reason to get fresh air. Stomping through nine inches of snow made chores take longer, but it felt good to know the animals were safe and cared for in the cold. I’m thankful for Austin’s help with chores, especially now that he’s busy and back on the run again.
As we nursed everyone back to health, our thoughts turned to Grandma—Daniel’s mother—who has been diagnosed with colon cancer that has spread to the liver. It was an unexpected blow. We’re placing the situation in God’s hands and discussing life, hope and what we are created for. Grandma plans to pursue treatment, and we’re joining together in prayer for God’s healing according to His will.
One evening Daniel’s father, who was at the hospital with Grandma, called and asked to put the phone on speaker so he could sing for the sick children. My heart was touched as he sang, “…there’s nothing my God cannot do for Julia, Austin, Hosanna, Jesse, Elijah, Joshua.” A small snicker from Hosanna was the first sound from her in a while—music can lift a tired household.
I wish you a happy and healthy year ahead. Remember, God’s got this.
I’ll share a recipe next—given to me by a dear friend—and pass it along for you to enjoy.