The Amish Teacher's Dilemma and Healing Their Amish Hearts Patricia Davids (best self help books to read TXT) 📖

“What are you doing inside the house? Are you ill?” Jesse asked, feeling confused.

The boy shook his head and that’s when Jesse noticed he held a book in one hand. A bad feeling settled in Jesse’s stomach. Without asking, he knew what had happened. Instead of doing his farm chores, Sam had been inside the house reading.

“Did you feed the chickens and gather the eggs yet? Did you feed the cows?” Jesse asked, hoping his son said yes. If so, all would be forgiven.

Sam’s eyes widened and he hung his head in shame. Finally, the boy shook his head.

Jesse reached to take the book out of Sam’s hand. It was a library book that Becca had given him. “You’ve been reading when there are chores to be done?”

Grave disappointment filled Jesse’s chest. Sam hadn’t done his morning chores. Not a single one. Instead, he’d been languishing inside the house. He hadn’t even put on his shoes yet! As a parent, Jesse was outraged by his child’s disobedience. Though he longed for a quiet heart and wanted to retain his composure, he knew he must be strict and clear in his expectations.

“Why have you not done your work yet?” Jesse asked, forcing himself to speak calmly.

Sam didn’t answer but he shivered as a brisk wind blew from the east. The child stared at his bare toes, which were scrunched against the cold, wooden porch. Jesse knew his son loved to read more than anything else. But too much of anything was not good. And Sam had plenty of time to read. In addition to school and trips to the town library every two weeks, Jesse had been reading to the boy each night, regular as clockwork. Also, for the past two months, Becca had been coming here several afternoons each week to read and tutor the boy. The strategies seemed to work. Sam’s demeanor was happier and there was a bounce in the boy’s step that hadn’t been there for a very long time. But now, the books were getting in the way of Sam’s chores. And work must always come first on a farm. It was critical to their survival. As Sam’s father, Jesse had an obligation to teach his son how to work hard. To teach the boy how to farm and raise livestock. Jesse couldn’t just let this go.

“I’m very disappointed in you, sohn. You know what is expected of you. Did you start reading and lose track of time?” Jesse asked his son.

Sam nodded.

A wave of annoyance rose upward within Jesse’s chest and he couldn’t prevent a note of irritation from filling his voice. He didn’t have time for such nonsense. Not if he was going to get the fields cleared for spring planting.

“If you don’t do your chores, who will?” Jesse asked, his voice stern but not overly unkind. “Do you want our hens to stop laying eggs? And what about the cows? They need to eat too. Do you want them to stop giving milk? Then what will we eat? What will we have to sell so we can live?”

Jesse didn’t really expect a response and he got none. But he hoped his questions would make Sam think. After all, the boy was still young and learning his place in the world. This was a teaching opportunity. A time to reiterate Jesse’s expectations and let Sam understand that he needed the boy’s help.

“Unless you are at school, you will do your farm chores first and read only in the evenings after all the work is finished for the day. Except on Sunday, we have no time for reading during daytime. Do you understand?”

Sam didn’t look up but he nodded. The boy’s back was ramrod straight, his shoulders tensed. Jesse sensed the child was upset by the situation but he offered no argument.

“Gut. Now, go and get your shoes and coat on. Then, finish your work. After that, come and join me in the south pasture so we can clear the field.”

Expecting his son to obey, Jesse turned and headed toward the barn without a backward glance. Because he hadn’t purchased any draft horses yet, he harnessed Blaze, his road horse, to the wagon and headed out to the field with his hand tools.

Using a sharp spade to dig around the roots of small trees and shrubs, he worked alone for almost two hours. Even though the day was quite cold, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He dug, hacked and pulled up a number of slender saplings and tossed them into the back of the wagon. He could turn them into wood chips for use around the farm. Marvin Schwartz had a gas-powered wood chipper he could use for a minimal fee.

Resting for a moment, Jesse leaned against the wooden handle of his tool and reached for the jug of water he’d placed in the back of the wagon. He looked toward the house, wondering where Sam was. Surely the boy was finished with his chores by now. He wouldn’t dare go back inside the house to read some more. Would he?

Stowing the water jug behind the wagon seat, Jesse continued his work. He wasn’t pleased to see thistles growing in the field and knew they’d be stubborn to get rid of. As an experienced farmer, he knew it would take two or three years to clear them out completely and even then, he’d still have to watch out for new seedlings. But over time, he’d weed them out entirely. A variety of other obnoxious grasses and thug plants would sprout up as well. But effective farming was a patient man’s chore. And Jesse was an effective farmer. Within a few years, his farm would be tidy and in optimal working condition. He’d work hard and build a fine place for Sam to inherit one day.

Speaking of which, where was the boy? He looked toward the house again, wondering if he should tromp back to