My Scandalous Mennonite Diary #15

-Abe

“So Abe, are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Well, it’s good for you that the old Friesen place was up for rent.”

“I know,” I say. “I wouldn’t be able to afford much else.”

“Not on the salary of a store clerk, that’s for sure.” My father chuckles. “But, really, a small place like that is all you’ll need for now.”

“I’m sure by the time that children come along, you’ll have moved on to bigger and better things,” my mother says in a matter-of-fact tone.

I say nothing. This whole relationship started on a whim. Now the reality of my impending marriage is weighing on me.

Through the kitchen window, I can see luggage piled on the roof of my VW Bug. It’s not a glamorous car but it works. It’ll carry what little I have in this world.

My parents are sitting across the kitchen table from me. They look like the typical Mennonite couple. They both wear plain but serviceable clothing. The gray hair and wrinkles were earned through years of hard labor.

They aren’t flashy but they have shown me love over the years.

I’ll miss them after I move out today.

“Do you know much about Mary’s family? You haven’t said much about them”, my mother, a thin, frail woman remarks.

“Not much, I’ve met them a bit, but, to be honest, I’ve been focused on Mary.”

“Her father has been elected as a preacher, so he must be firm in the traditions we’ve always known.” My father, a heavyset man of the land, remarks. “Have you talked to him about that?”

“Yes,” I say as I lick my lips nervously, reflecting on all that has gone on. “It does seem like he is firm on the old ways.”

“Good. I don’t know what I would do if you married one of those modern women,” my mother says. “I can’t stand looking at those tarts in perms and high heels.”

“Well,” I attempt to say but am interrupted.

“Even worse is when they say that you can know salvation,” my father contributes.

“Well,” I try again but fail to inject myself into the conversation.

“It’s best to just stick with what is tried and true,” my mother adds. “It is what worked for our parents and their parents before them, why would we want to change?”

“You always need to keep an eye out for false prophets in the church,” my father intones gravely. “They get people listening to the radio and whatnot. Next thing you know they don’t want to obey the ministers…and eventually they even leave the church. That’s how it was with Frank anyway.”

“Well, I’m sure Mary isn’t one of those worldly people who lie around and listen to the radio,” I finally manage to contribute. “And, I know I’ve never seen her in high heels.”

“That’s good, but you haven’t courted her that long, so there’ll probably be some surprises yet, mark my words.” My mother smiles at my father. “I know your father and I had plenty after we got married.”

“I suppose we’ll deal with them as they come, ” I say.

“As long as she doesn’t turn from the old ways, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” my father says.

“Don’t worry, Mary would never be as proud as to say that she can know salvation.”

“If you are confident, I’m confident.” My father stands. “But enough talk, your car is loaded, let’s get you moved over to the Friesen place. The wedding will be here before you know it.”

“And, I better get busy making some veranate and schmont fat for all the yast that are coming,” my mother says. (*veranate means perogies, schmont fat means cream gravy, yast means guests.)

Wow! It’s almost here. My marriage Sunday. It seems almost too good to be true.

I can hardly wait.

I wonder how Mary feels about all this?