Free When Hope Blossoms by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page B

At the time, Amy had discounted her father’s words, secretly proud of Bekah’s ability to reason deeply and ask difficult questions. It meant the girl had intelligence, and intelligence was a good thing.
    But now the questions threatened the foundation of Amy’s faith. Perhaps she should have taken Dad’s warning more seriously and better prepared herself for this moment. Closing her eyes to calm her raging emotions, she pleaded with her heavenly Father to let the Holy Spirit speak words that would reach Bekah’s questioning heart.
    “You asked why we can’t take off these caps and cut our hair.” Absently, Amy smoothed her fingers down the ribbon of her own cap. “Tell me why you began wearing your cap.”
    Bekah traced squiggles on the table, her head low. “Because the church said I had to when I got baptized. It means I’m part of the fellowship of believers.”
    Amy frowned. Surely Bekah knew the deeper reason the women of her sect donned the mesh caps that covered their hair. “Why else?”
    “And the Bible says a woman should cover her head when she’s praying, and we’re supposed to be in prayer all the time.” The girl grimaced, making Amy wonder what thought trailed through her mind. “So we wear the caps all the time.” Bekah’s head shot up. “Does that mean women who don’t wear caps never talk to God?”
    Amy swallowed, seeking an appropriate response. “I think there are some people—both women and men—who go through life never talking to God. They’re too busy looking at themselves to realize there is a God in Heaven who loves them and wants them to be His children. To me, those are the saddest people, because they’re always trying to fill something inside of them that can only be filled one way, and they miss the way.”
    Bekah listened intently, no hint of defiance in her face.
    Drawing in a steadying breath, Amy continued. “And then there are people who do know God. They aren’t Mennonite, but they believe Jesus is their Savior and that God is their Father. They hold their faith in their hearts, but they don’t feel it’s necessary to clothe themselves differently to show it on the outside.”
    “But the Mennonites think they need to show it on the outside, too.”
    Amy nodded in agreement. “The Bible teaches us to be separate, not of the world, so our clothing lets others know that we are a separate people, living for God rather than for self.” Amy took Bekah’s hand. “Sweetheart, I know it’s hard to dress differently from others your age. It will be even harder here, with so few Mennonites and all of them strangers to you right now. But God gives us strength to do what He calls us to do.”
    Bekah stared long and hard into Amy’s face. Her sober expression gave away nothing of her inner thoughts, yet Amy sensed the girl was rolling things over in her mind, searching for her place of peace. So Amy sat quietly, allowing her daughter to process what she’d shared. While she waited, she prayed for Bekah’s understanding and acceptance.
    Finally, Bekah looked away, her shoulders rising and falling. “Okay, Mom.” She spoke with her face aimed at the kitchen window, seemingly entranced by the play of the wind in the curtains. “I think I see why you want us to keep living the same way we did in Arborville, even though we aren’t in Arborville anymore. But there’s still one thing I have to figure out for myself.”
    “What’s that, honey?”
    Bekah pulled her hand loose and rose. “Whether God really called me to be a Mennonite.” She turned and darted for the stairs. Her clattering footsteps faded away, but Amy’s heart continued pounding in her ears.
    She folded her arms on the table’s smooth top and let her head drop into the bend of her elbow. The brief conversation in the comfortable kitchen had sapped her energy even more than her walk across the pasture in the late-afternoon sun. “God . . .” The name groaned from her lips. “You promised