Sewn with Joy by Tricia Goyer

bright smile and hoped it made her look more confident than she felt. “Let’s not think of that. We’ll figure it out. God will provide. I know He will.”

Eight
    When life gets too hard to stand, kneel.
    A MISH PROVERB

    J oy knew Mem was going to stop by Yoder’s Produce after the sewing frolic. Her plan was to find her, help with the groceries, and then ask about the medication cost. She not only needed to help Dat , she needed to help her sister Faith too. Faith tended to take on everyone else’s burdens as her own. The sooner Joy could find a way to help, the better for everyone.
    As she turned down Kaufman Avenue, she stopped short. The garage door was open at the Slagel house. Was Matthew home? Warmth filled her. She placed her right hand over her chest and noticed the quickening beat.
    The sound of a saw filled the air. She followed it into the open garage, and the scent of fresh-cut wood greeted her.
    Over the last few weeks, Matthew had been busy working on home construction around Pinecraft. A lot of building had been going on lately. Old houses were demolished and beautiful new ones were built in their place, but it appeared Matthew was working at home today. He concentrated on the wood and saw in his hands. She paused and waited until the saw blade stopped so she wouldn’t distract him.
    He glanced up as she neared and a smile filled his face. “Well, hello there.” A quiet stillness invaded the place where the saw’s buzzing had been a moment before.
    â€œI was just here not thirty minutes ago at the sewing frolic. You must have arrived just after I left. A change of pace today?”
    He ran a hand down his face, brushing off sawdust—or at least attempting to. “I do have some landscaping work to do later, but I gave one of my construction projects to Noah Yoder’s nephew Mose. He and his friends are saving up money to buy their own place, and I thought I’d help them out.”
    She wrinkled her nose as she smiled. “ Ja , you say that, but I know you were just wanting to get back to your shop. Have you finished staining the recipe box for your mem ’s birthday yet?”
    â€œShh.” Matthew held a finger to his lips. He glanced to the door that led into the kitchen. “She might hear you.”
    Joy covered her mouth with her hand, and then laughter spilled out. She stepped forward. “I’m so sorry. I’m the worst about keeping secrets. I should let you know that now. I usually make homemade gifts for my family every Christmas, but none of them stay hidden long enough to get wrapped for Christmas Day. Mostly because I either can’t wait to share or I spill the beans before it’s time.”
    Matthew stepped around the saw, moving closer to her. “That’ll be gut to know for the future. I’ll have to resist telling you any secrets from now on.”
    She glanced to the shelf where the recipe box was hidden. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said only loud enough for him to hear. “I’ve been making aprons and dish towels for Me, Myself, and Pie, and they’ve been selling well. What do you think about making recipe boxes, and maybe even cookbook stands? I imagine they’d be popular with the tourists—taking a little bitof the Amish community home with them and all that. You do such a beautiful job.”
    Matthew’s eyes brightened. “Do you think people would really be interested?”
    â€œI do. But you might have to quit your construction work, because if they sell as well as my aprons and towels, you’ll have trouble keeping the recipe boxes in stock.”
    He got a queer look on his face, and it was hard to read his thoughts. He brushed his hands on his overalls, trying to brush away more sawdust, but it didn’t help. His pants were just as dirty as his hands. Then he reached for her hand, and she placed it in his, not caring they weren’t