Free An Amish Christmas Quilt by Jennifer Kelly; Beckstrand Charlotte; Long Hubbard

intended for Englisch more than for us Plain folks—lots of districts don’t allow them, as the Nativity figures could be considered graven images.”
    â€œ Jah , Dat and the leaders of his church are set against them,” Mary agreed.
    Bishop Tom smiled at Rhoda then. “But since you bought this for Taylor and Brett before they started down the path to becomin’ Plain, I’m happy you’ve gotten it out,” he said. “Watchin’ these kids share Jesus’s birth brings new life to the story, even for us older folks who’ve known it since we were kids ourselves.”
    Mary had to agree. Lucy and Sol looked enthralled as Taylor and Brett handed them each carved, painted piece. Then they discussed where the figures ought to be placed beneath the star-topped manger, so humans and animals alike were gazing at the baby. The wooly sheep, the humble donkey, and the contented cow conveyed a feeling of peace, and even without facial features, Mary and Joseph expressed wonder and adoration. It was a treat to hear the four kids tell how each character played a part in the first Christmas as she gazed at the little baby on His quilt, in a hay manger.
    When Rowdy barked at something outside, Taylor’s eyes lit up. “Bishop Tom, you should carve a border collie for this set—to keep the sheep from wandering off, you know?”
    â€œ Jah , Rowdy’s real gut about watchin’ Emmanuel. Real gentle and quiet,” Sol chimed in. “And if sheep and cows and a donkey were around, he’d make sure they wouldn’t hurt our little brother.”
    Our little brother. The words were music to Mary’s ears, for Sol hadn’t shown much inclination to hold or talk to Emmanuel.
    Tom chuckled. “A border collie, eh? It makes perfect sense, I suppose.” He smiled at the kids then, as though he had a secret to share. “I’ve given a lot of thought to puttin’ on a living Nativity, like you kids were so excited about last Sunday. I think we should give it a go.”
    When Taylor and the other kids jumped up and down, clapping their hands, Bishop Tom grinned. “It would solve Teacher Alberta’s predicament about puttin’ on the Christmas Eve program,” he explained. “And since it would include our younger kids, as well as a few local folks’ animals, I think it’s a worthwhile community effort. As long as we keep Jesus’s birth and the Holy Spirit first and foremost, we’re still tellin’ the greatest story on earth.”
    The bishop focused on Mary then, his expression softening as he stroked Emmanuel’s cheek. “Of course, it’s really up to you , Mary,” he continued in a lower voice. “If you’re not inclined to sit outside with this wee boy on a December night, everyone would understand. I suppose we could wrap up somebody’s doll baby—”
    â€œThat wouldn’t be the same!” Taylor protested. “If we’re going to have lambs and Lucy’s little pony and—”
    â€œAh-ah! Watch your tongue,” Rhoda warned with a shake of her finger. “It’s Mary’s choice. If she doesn’t want to risk Emmanuel catchin’ his death of cold, we’ll respect her decision.”
    A look of contrition stole over Taylor’s face. “ Jah , you’re right,” she agreed. “Who knows but what we might have snow or ice that night? Nobody would want to be outside in that sort of weather.”
    Mary’s thoughts were racing. Was she willing to take part in such an event because her father had so vehemently spoken out against it, or because the idea of reenacting Jesus’s birth stirred something deep inside her? She’d often portrayed Mary in the Christmas Eve skits when she’d been a scholar, but giving birth to her firstborn son had put the story into a new perspective for her.
    â€œWhere do you suppose we should