me: and whosoever shall receive me, receiveth not me, but him that sent me.
—Mark 9:37
To one of my favorite readers, Patsy Thompson. Thank you, Miss Patsy, for your encouraging letters and for your continued prayers!
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The gloaming sparkled in a brilliant gold-washed shimmer that covered the sloping valley and glistened through the trees.
Raesha Bawell took a moment to stare out at the end of the day, a sweet Friday in late summer, and sighed with contentment.
It had taken her a long time to reach such contentment.
Even now, with the soft breath of fall hinting in the wind, she still missed her husband, Aaron. Her heart twitched as if it had been pierced but the piercing was now dull and swift.
She’d had to watch him die. How could a woman ever get over that kind of torment? Cancer, the doctors at the big clinic had told them. Too late for surgery or treatments.
Too late for children and laughter, for growing old together, for taking long walks on nights such as this.
Too late.
But never too late to remember joy. She sometimes felt guilty when joy came to her, but tonight she studied the trees and the big creek that moved through the heart of this community. Tonight, she thanked the Lord that she had her mother-in-law, Naomi, to guide her and keep her grounded.
Naomi had been a widow for several years so she knew the pain of losing a dear loved one. Knew it well since she’d also lost two infants at birth. Aaron had been her pride and joy.
But now, Naomi and Raesha had each other.
They worked side by side each day, but Raesha spent a lot of time in the long rectangular building around back of the main house. The Bawell Hat Shop had become more than just hats. They quilted and sewed, canned and cooked, laughed and giggled, and held frolics for their friends almost every month. They had loyal customers, both Amish and Englisch. They’d taken to making not only men’s hats, both felt and straw, and bonnets for Amish women and girls, but Easter hats and frilly scarves and caps for tourists, too.
“You don’t need to stay here with me,” Naomi always said. “You are young and full of life. You should get married again.”
“I am content,” Raesha would always reply.
“You could go back and be with your family. I’m sure they miss you.”
“My family is two hours away and they have other children and grandchildren,” she always replied. “They know my place is here with you.”
Her siblings often came for visits and to see if she wanted to return two counties away and start over there. She did not.
Now as she watched the sunset and thought about the beautiful wedding bonnet she’d made for a young neighbor who was about to become a bride, she knew she was content.
And yet, she still longed for a husband and a family.
Raesha turned to go inside and start supper, prayers for comfort foremost in her mind. She had nothing to complain about. The Bawells had built a fine house that kept growing since her in-laws always welcomed nieces and nephews and friends. People had moved in and out of their lives, filling