Her Amish Child

“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 the void after they’d lost two children. The house and outbuildings were neat and symmetrical, steady and solid. From the red big barn that held livestock and equipment to the grossdaddi haus beyond the main structure to the big shop that covered the length of the western side of the house to allow for parking, the Bawell place was a showpiece but in a plain, simple way. She and Naomi had a lot of help keeping up this place. Raesha never wanted to live anywhere else.

Turning to go and assist Naomi with lighting the lamps and warming dinner, she heard something round on the other end of the long porch, near the front door. A sound like a kitten meowing.

Listening, Raesha moved across the wraparound porch and turned the corner toward the front of the huge house. Had a stray come looking for milk?

The cry came again. And again. Soon soft wails echoed out over the fields and trees.

Then she saw the basket.

And a little pink foot kicking out in frustration.

Raesha gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

A bobbeli?

Raesha fell down beside the big, worn basket and saw the pink blankets inside. Covered in those blankets and wearing a tiny pink hat stitched with darker pink roses lay a baby.

“Sis en Maedel.” A girl.

A very upset and wailing baby girl.

Grabbing up the basket, Raesha spoke softly to the baby. “Shh, now. Let’s get you inside and see what we have to feed you.”

What did they have? Goat’s milk. Cow’s milk, but no mother’s milk. What was she to do? Naomi would know.

Telling herself to stay calm, Raesha lifted up a prayer for help. Then she glanced around, searching for whoever might have left the babe at her door.

But the sunset had changed to dusk and all she saw was the last shifting shadows of the day as darkness settled over the field and valleys of Campton Creek.

Who had abandoned this child?

* * *

Please take care of my little girl. I’m sorry but I am not able to do so at this time. Her name is Dinah and I was once Amish.

Naomi squinted down at the kicking baby and then laid the note they’d found inside the basket on the kitchen counter. “I’m verhuddelt.”

“I’m confused, too,” Raesha replied as she changed the little girl’s soiled clothing, glad they had a few baby gowns and such stocked in the shop and some leftover clothing from the comings and goings of relatives. Thankfully, she had found a supply of commercial formula inside the basket, along with a few disposable diapers and some clothing.

They’d warmed a few ounces of the formula and fed it to her after sterilizing a glass baby bottle Naomi had found in the pantry, hoping that would quiet her until they could figure a proper diet.

“Who would abandon a baby?” Raesha asked in between cooing and talking to the tiny infant. “Such a poignant plea in that note.”

“And who would leave the babe with us?” Naomi replied, her once-blue eyes now blighted with old age, her face wrinkled but beautiful still. “Do you think she could belong to a relative? We have sheltered so many here.”

“I do not know,” Raesha replied, her heart already in love with the darling little girl. “She did say she was once Amish. Does that mean she is never coming back?”

Naomi did a thorough once-over of the kicking baby. “The note gave that indication. But this child doesn’t look like any of our relatives.”

The child had bright hazel eyes and chestnut curls. Raesha checked her over, too. “She looks to be around three or four months, ja?”

“’Spect so,” Naomi said, a soft smile on her face. “She is pretty. Seems healthy and she did come with a few supplies, but I still cannot understand.”

“God’s will,” Raesha said, thinking they could easily take care of this bobbeli.

“Or someone’s free will,” Naomi replied, her eyes full of concern. “We need to report this to the bishop.”

“First thing tomorrow,” Raesha said, her heart already breaking.

Of course, they’d keep the baby within the community if she’d truly come from an Amish mother. The Amish did not always bring in Englisch authorities for such things. Someone had left her here for a reason, though. It would be a shame to let this precious child go back out there to someone who didn’t want her or to strangers who might not treat her kindly.

“I think her mamm left her with us because she wants her to be raised Amish.”

“We will pray on this and do what we must in the morning,” Naomi said, her tone calm and firm. “For now, little Dinah, you are safe.”

Raesha nodded. “Ja, you are right. I worry about the mother but we will pray for her, too.” She smiled down at the pretty little girl. “Your mamm might come back one day.”

Naomi patted her hand and then Raesha finished bathing and dressing the baby. Soon after she gave little Dinah the rest of the bottle of formula, the child calmed, her eyes drooping in a drowsy dance, the long lashes fluttering like tiny butterfly wings.

“I’ll sit with her,” Raesha said. “Once she’s asleep, I’ll take the basket into my room in case she wakes.”

“I’ll heat up the stew we had left from yesterday,” Naomi replied. “You’ll need nourishment.”

“What will we do if someone comes for her?” Raesha asked, her heart clenching, her mind whirling with images she couldn’t hold.

Naomi laughed. “We’ve had a lot of experience in dealing with children, ’member? Some would say we are akin to the foster parents who do the same in the Englisch world. Maybe that will work in our favor, ja?”

Raesha’s heart filled with a new hope. They did have experience and the Amish way was different from the Englisch way. Maybe they could keep this little one a few days longer. Or weeks even. But if the mother gained remorse and returned, they’d have no choice but to let her take the baby. If she would be capable, of course.

“We could have helped the woman if she’d only asked,” she said.

“We will do what we can for this one,” Naomi said, always relying on the Lord for her strength.

It would be hard to let this precious one go but Raesha knew it was out of her hands. God would give them the answers they needed.

And she’d have to accept that and stay content.

* * *