listening to the reports from Esther’s older students. Miriam knew it was partly a bit of hero worship—the younger boys looked up to the older boys, even though they were shy about admitting it. And the younger girls trusted the older children completely—both boys and girls. They made a nice, extended family in their little schoolhouse.
And like every family, they had their share of problems.
Staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, she forced herself to remain still and focus on a solution.
What was the problem, though?
Gabe Miller? Or Grace Miller?
An image of the young girl popped into her mind, and Miriam relaxed. Grace was a good student. She completed her assignments eagerly. She played well with other students.
Miriam tossed onto her right side.
Grace played well with other students, but not all students played well with Grace. There had been several times in the last two weeks that she had heard other children teasing her—heard and corrected them. The trouble was that she couldn’t always be present to defend Grace, and neither could Gabe.
Problem number one—Grace needed her voice so she could defend herself.
Miriam knew her students very well. The students who teased Grace weren’t bad children. Misguided perhaps, but not bad. They did what the young do in every species—Miriam had watched young bucks at play—they picked on the weak. She’d thought it was terrible when she’d watched a wounded yearling being harassed by other young bucks. She was fifteen years old at the time, and her father had asked her to keep him company as he studied the deer grazing in his oat patch a week before the start of hunting season.
“Why must they treat the hurt one that way? Nature’s so cruel.”
“Maybe,” her dat replied. “Or maybe by pushing him away, by nudging him constantly, even by running at him with their antlers, it causes him to grow stronger .”
When she only looked at him skeptically, he’d shrugged and then continued. “His defenses grow stronger. His hurt leg heals faster because it must or he won’t eat .”
“ But it’s wrong , dat.”
“Deer don’t know right or wrong. They only know survival and instinct.”
At the time, the thought had depressed her for some reason, but as she’d grown older she’d replayed that scene in her mind many times. Sometimes driving home from school she’d come across coyotes feasting on a deer carcass, usually one that had been hit by an automobile. Occasionally as she watched the boys play in the fields after church, she’d notice one of the smaller ones being left out. Even on the school grounds children were teased.
She always stepped in and defended the child, but in her mind she heard her father. Did such behavior make the child stronger? She couldn’t say. She only knew teasing was wrong and she wouldn’t abide it.
Over the years the ones teased had grown strong—and she thanked God for that. They found their place within the community and childish differences were put away.
For Grace that path seemed blocked because she wasn’t able to speak for herself.
Tossing over onto her back, Miriam tried again to see the ceiling of the room. The answers weren’t there, but they were somewhere. There was a side of this problem she was missing, just out of her vision.
She had prayed each night and each morning that God would help her attend to Grace’s needs. Since she had started teaching, she always prayed before beginning her school day. She’d heard about the Englisch schools where spoken prayer was no longer allowed, but she imagined most of those teachers prayed silently before approaching the front of their classroom as well.
Esther had once said that a room full of students had a way of bringing out the believer in you, either that or it would convince any woman to take up baking bread, knitting scarves, or even making cabinets. Without faith their job would be impossible.
So what was she missing?
Helping Grace find
And like every family, they had their share of problems.
Staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, she forced herself to remain still and focus on a solution.
What was the problem, though?
Gabe Miller? Or Grace Miller?
An image of the young girl popped into her mind, and Miriam relaxed. Grace was a good student. She completed her assignments eagerly. She played well with other students.
Miriam tossed onto her right side.
Grace played well with other students, but not all students played well with Grace. There had been several times in the last two weeks that she had heard other children teasing her—heard and corrected them. The trouble was that she couldn’t always be present to defend Grace, and neither could Gabe.
Problem number one—Grace needed her voice so she could defend herself.
Miriam knew her students very well. The students who teased Grace weren’t bad children. Misguided perhaps, but not bad. They did what the young do in every species—Miriam had watched young bucks at play—they picked on the weak. She’d thought it was terrible when she’d watched a wounded yearling being harassed by other young bucks. She was fifteen years old at the time, and her father had asked her to keep him company as he studied the deer grazing in his oat patch a week before the start of hunting season.
“Why must they treat the hurt one that way? Nature’s so cruel.”
“Maybe,” her dat replied. “Or maybe by pushing him away, by nudging him constantly, even by running at him with their antlers, it causes him to grow stronger .”
When she only looked at him skeptically, he’d shrugged and then continued. “His defenses grow stronger. His hurt leg heals faster because it must or he won’t eat .”
“ But it’s wrong , dat.”
“Deer don’t know right or wrong. They only know survival and instinct.”
At the time, the thought had depressed her for some reason, but as she’d grown older she’d replayed that scene in her mind many times. Sometimes driving home from school she’d come across coyotes feasting on a deer carcass, usually one that had been hit by an automobile. Occasionally as she watched the boys play in the fields after church, she’d notice one of the smaller ones being left out. Even on the school grounds children were teased.
She always stepped in and defended the child, but in her mind she heard her father. Did such behavior make the child stronger? She couldn’t say. She only knew teasing was wrong and she wouldn’t abide it.
Over the years the ones teased had grown strong—and she thanked God for that. They found their place within the community and childish differences were put away.
For Grace that path seemed blocked because she wasn’t able to speak for herself.
Tossing over onto her back, Miriam tried again to see the ceiling of the room. The answers weren’t there, but they were somewhere. There was a side of this problem she was missing, just out of her vision.
She had prayed each night and each morning that God would help her attend to Grace’s needs. Since she had started teaching, she always prayed before beginning her school day. She’d heard about the Englisch schools where spoken prayer was no longer allowed, but she imagined most of those teachers prayed silently before approaching the front of their classroom as well.
Esther had once said that a room full of students had a way of bringing out the believer in you, either that or it would convince any woman to take up baking bread, knitting scarves, or even making cabinets. Without faith their job would be impossible.
So what was she missing?
Helping Grace find
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