Little Amish Lizzie

  The characters and events in this book are the creation of the author, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  LITTLE AMISH LIZZIE

  Copyright © 2018 by Linda Byler

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Good Books, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

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  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  ISBN: 978-1-68099-356-1

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-68099-358-5

  Cover design by Jenny Zemanek

  Printed in Canada

  To my husband, Gideon,

  for having faith in my ability

  to write when I had none.

  contents

  Preface

  1. A Kitten Named Snowball

  2. The Harness Shop

  3. Playing House

  4. Marvin and Elsie

  5. Whose Fault?

  6. A Ride to the Mountains

  7. Moving

  8. The New Pony

  9. School

  10. Going for Milk

  11. Playing Cow

  12. Emma Is Sick

  13. The Christmas Program

  14. A Visit from Doddy Millers

  15. Rachel

  16. Going to Church

  17. Summertime

  18. A Trip to Ohio

  19. Doddy Millers in Ohio

  20. The Keims

  21. Home Again

  22. School Days

  23. Going for Groceries

  24. Teeny and Tiny

  preface

  I suppose it is only truthful to say that my love of the Laura Ingalls series is what prompted me to write about Lizzie. I hope lots of little girls will love Lizzie and her family as much as I loved the Little House books as a child.

  I don’t know if Lizzie would ever have come into being if Mrs. Jerre Esh would not have taken the time to write a letter of encouragement. I think it was one of those little acts of kindness that we do, never knowing what we have done. That, definitely, was the deciding factor to get me started.

  Most of the incidents in Lizzie’s life are true, although the story is rounded out with imaginary conversations and happenings. The fears, thoughts, and attitudes, however, are very real.

  — LINDA BYLER

  chapter 1

  A Kitten Named Snowball

  Little Lizzie Glick sat beside the white picket fence and looked and looked at the white kitten. The kitten was quite perfect, with big blue eyes, a pink tongue, and the softest, whitest fur anyone could imagine.

  Lizzie’s sister Emma sat holding the kitten in her lap, softly stroking its fur. Lizzie wondered if Emma really liked the kitten as much as she let on. For some reason, that little kitten just gave Lizzie the biggest knot in her stomach. She actually felt quite sick. She searched Emma’s face, desperately looking for a sign that she felt the same.

  Emma looked just like Emma. Small and round, with dark hair rolled up at the side and put into a little round bob in the back as was the fashion of all little Amish girls. Her green dress was covered with white cat hair and she looked absolutely content.

  What is wrong with me? Lizzie wondered. I don’t even want this kitten. I just know it will come to a tragic end. Finally, she could admit to herself what the knot in her stomach was all about. She was afraid. Desperately afraid. Things like this just happened … a car would drive over it, or it could drown in the creek behind their house. Or—horror of horrors—it could get into the belt of the big sewing machine in Dat’s harness shop. Dat was always busy, always in a hurry, sewing harnesses, and if that little kitten got into the shop, the end of it would be too awful to bear.

  Lizzie sniffed nervously. She smoothed her dark red dress over her little round stomach and put a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She looked up at the sky and thought of anything else she could: clouds, or tree branches, or God, and wondered why little white kittens were even allowed to be.

  Suddenly she could take it no longer. “Emma!” she burst out.

  Emma jumped and looked up in surprise. “Lizzie, what?”

  “Emma … oh … nothing.” Lizzie hung her head miserably.

  “What’s wrong, Lizzie? Do you want to hold Snowball awhile?”

  “No, no! You can have her!”

  Emma looked at Lizzie quite closely. “Lizzie, don’t you like Snowball? You act like you’re actually afraid of her!”

  “Oh, be quiet, Emma. Of course I’m not afraid of her.”

  “Well, you act so stupid.”

  Lizzie jumped up, put her hands on her hips, leaned forward, and glared into Emma’s face. “Don’t you tell me I’m stupid, Emma Glick. I’m going to tell Mam right now!”

  Turning on her heel, she burst into loud wails of pent-up frustration. Just as she reached the porch steps, her sister Mandy stepped carefully through the front door holding a blue dish filled with warm milk. Mam had one arm extended to keep the door open so Mandy could pass through.

  Mam’s kind face held a look of concern and pity. She came through the door and held out her arms. “Come here, Lizzie. What’s wrong with my Lizzie now?”

  Lizzie buried her face in Mam’s warm apron which smelled of clean wash and pie crusts. Mam was so soft with her plump figure and round face. Just like a soft pillow you could lay your head into and cry till you were done—which Lizzie proceeded to do while Mam stroked her brown hair and adjusted a stray hairpin on her straggly little bob.

  Sniffing and hiccuping, sobbing and crying, she clung tight to Mam while Emma plopped down on the wooden porch steps, still hugging Snowball. Mandy just stood there, looking forlorn and skinny, with her huge green eyes first on Lizzie, then Emma, on to Snowball, and last, to the little dish of milk.

  “I don’t know what in the whole world came over her, Mam. She just acts so dumb about Snowball. She won’t even hold her. She’s always so weird.” Emma sniffed and lowered her lashes as if to remind Mam how pathetic Lizzie actually was.

  Lizzie pulled back from Mam’s apron, which had a big wet splotch on it from all Lizzie’s tears. Anger put a quick stop to her flow of sorrow, and she turned and slapped Emma hard, directly on her cheek. Emma snapped back in surprise, and Snowball jumped out of her lap immediately.

  “You don’t know what’s wrong with me. You don’t even know if anything is wrong. So just be quiet!”

  “Lizzie!” Mam reached down to get a firm grip on her shoulder. “You apologize to Emma right now. If you don’t, I’m going to get Dat.”

  Mandy had set down the bowl of milk and ran to scoop up Snowball. She held the kitten tightly, and rolled her big green eyes at Lizzie.

  Lizzie stood defiantly. Her whole being churned with feelings of indecision. Should she apologize nicely, cry again, and tell Mam all of her fears? But they were so stupid. Lizzie really hated herself. Why did her imagination have to make life so miserable? Why couldn’t she just love Snowball and cuddle her with Emma and laugh and be happy? Why did she even have to think horrible thoughts of a car squashing Snowball, or her wet little head strugg
ling in the fast-flowing waters of the creek? Wasn’t she normal at all?

  Mam’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “Say you’re sorry, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie faced Emma. Oh, that Emma. There she stood in all her … her goodness. She looked so … so untroubled and calm. And if she had any idea what was in Lizzie’s head she would laugh and call her a chicken. Which, Lizzie guessed, is really exactly what she was. A chicken. Well, a chicken could stand up for herself. So Lizzie stood tall, looked Emma straight in the eye, and said, “Sorry.” With that, she bent, picked up Snowball, and stalked off as fast as her chubby legs could go.

  She must have held the kitten too tightly because Snowball meowed, spit, and scratched Lizzie horribly. Lizzie threw down the kitten, which ran off into Mandy’s welcoming arms and back to her warm bowl of milk.

  “Lizzie, what did you do to her?” Emma yelled.

  “Nothing!”

  “Yes, you did!”

  “Did not!”

  “Girls, if you don’t straighten up about this little kitten, it is going right back to Doddys’ farm. And I mean it. Emma and Lizzie—both of you—it’s time to come set the table for supper.” Mam turned and went into the house.

  Lizzie picked a hairpin out of her bob and jerked her head, hard. She scuffed a toe into the gravel of the driveway and wished she could just die. But maybe that wouldn’t be good just then, as much as she hated Emma.

  · · · · ·

  The large round moon rose slowly in the dark night sky. Little white stars twinkled in the summer night, and a breeze ruffled the clean white curtain in the upstairs bedroom window of the small two-story shingled house where Lizzie lived.

  The creek wound like a silver ribbon behind the house, softly babbling to itself as it splashed over rocks and made little ripples in the low places. The road that went past Lizzie’s house made a turn and went over the bridge, past Doddy Glicks’ farm. Doddy and Mommy Glick had a large family and a busy farm, which in the night scene looked serene and peaceful. This was Lizzie’s world, and at five years old, it was a big world, full of adventures every day.

  Now as a moonbeam spread across her bed, she blinked her eyes and wondered if the moon would be just as bright tomorrow night. She thought the moon just made the night more scary, especially if you couldn’t sleep to begin with.

  She sincerely hoped Snowball the kitten was sound asleep, and not out in the yard running around in the moonlight. She could go out on the road, and some late passerby could hit her with his car.

  Lizzie sighed and flipped on her side, punching her pillow with a little round fist. She wished she could sleep. Emma lay beside her sound asleep, her breathing an even rhythm. Lizzie wished she was Emma. Emma didn’t worry about things like Lizzie did. She didn’t even think about scary things and awful things that could happen.

  And Mam just didn’t understand all Lizzie’s worries, because Lizzie was too ashamed to tell her. So she tossed and turned some more, thinking about white kittens and what could happen to them.

  Finally she could not take one more minute of this thinking. She sat straight up, took one look at Emma’s sleeping form, and hopped out of bed. The moon made a path of light as she stuck her tousled head around the bedroom door, peering down the hallway.

  Could she do this? Yes, she could, and off she tiptoed as quietly as possible—down the stairs, one at a time, and into the kitchen. She reached the laundry room door, and slowly opened it, her heart pounding in her throat. Reaching down, she slowly felt for Snowball in the cardboard box beside the washing machine.

  Just as her fingers touched Snowball’s soft coat, a blinding light shone in behind her.

  “Ooh!” Lizzie yelped and jumped up.

  Mam stood there, holding a big green flashlight as her other hand clutched at her housecoat.

  “Lizzie! What are you doing out of your bed at this time of the night?”

  Lizzie looked down ashamedly. “I just couldn’t sleep, Mam. I was worried about Snowball and wondered if she was alright. Does … does that matter?”

  Mam knelt down and gathered Lizzie into her arms. She smelled so good and felt so wonderful that instantly tears came to Lizzie’s eyes.

  “Lizzie, Lizzie, my funny, worried little girl. Were you lying up there worrying yourself about this kitten? Don’t you know that God takes care of all His creatures? Even sparrows and worms and especially kittens.”

  “But … but … they do die sometimes, don’t they?”

  Mam stroked Lizzie’s hair and held her close while she told her all about how God knows and cares about everything and that little girls could sleep peacefully every night because God loved Snowball, too.

  Lizzie sniffed and relaxed against Mam. And as Mam held her hand and went back upstairs with her, tucking her in beside Emma, Lizzie could hardly bear the feeling of love she felt for Mam.

  Wasn’t it just wonderful that even if God allowed kittens to be, He also made soft, warm Mams who smelled like talcum powder and whose soft housecoat felt like she imagined Heaven would feel?

  She only blinked at the moonlight once before she fell into a deep, lovely sleep.

  chapter 2

  The Harness Shop

  Lizzie poked her fork into the soft, runny center of her “dippy” egg. She had half of her buttered toast in her other hand and as soon as the soft, warm yolk ran out, she quickly dipped a corner of her toast to catch it.

  The morning sun shone warmly into the cozy little white kitchen. The blue and white tiles on the floor shone with the fresh coat of wax Mam had given it on Friday. The table stood against one wall, with a bench behind it, where Lizzie, Emma, and Mandy were seated. Mam sat at one end of the table and Dat at the other, with a glass pitcher of orange juice catching the sun’s rays.

  Dat handed the jelly to Emma, and she proceeded to spread it on her toast. Emma always made sure every little area of toast was evenly spread with jelly, and she was still spreading it while Lizzie took big mouthfuls of egg and toast.

  Dat’s brown hair and beard were neatly combed and he had on a freshly laundered green shirt. Because he worked in his harness shop, his skin was always pale, and his gray-blue eyes crinkled as he watched Emma carefully spread her jelly.

  “Emma, isn’t your egg going to be cold till you have that jelly spread evenly?” he asked with a smile.

  Emma looked up, the concentration still in her eyes. “Oh, no. I’m done now, Dat.”

  “Why does it take you so long?” Dat asked.

  Emma frowned. “’Cause I hate to bite into a piece of toast with too much crust and not enough jelly.” She sat up straighter, picked up her fork, and carefully cut a piece of egg, adjusting it exactly on one square of her toast.

  “Yuck!” Without thinking, Lizzie voiced her opinion of the jelly mixed with the egg. “How can you eat that?”

  “I’ll say,” Mandy piped up.

  Emma looked down her nose at her two younger sisters while she chewed slowly and serenely, enjoying her breakfast. She didn’t bother giving them a reply, and that really irked Lizzie. She hadn’t fallen asleep as early as usual because of Snowball, and here was Emma, acting like a queen again. She took a sip of orange juice and looked away, determined not to talk if Emma didn’t.

  “Well, I think if you are so proper about your jelly, maybe you could learn to help me make harnesses today,” Dat said. “You know how I put flaxseed in the crupper, the part that goes under the horse’s tail to hold the harness across its back? I’ll bet you could do that just perfectly.”

  “Oh, goody! Yes, of course, Dat, I want to!” Emma was all excited.

  “Good. After you help Mam with the dishes, you can come out to the shop. Now let’s put patties down, so we can go.”

  “Putting patties down” was an Amish ritual at every meal. Children were taught at a young age to fold their hands under the table, and bow their heads while they thought a silent prayer of thanksgiving for their food. They did this before and after every meal.


  Lizzie was not very devout. She would often forget to pray, and think other things while everyone else bowed their heads lower than she did. It wasn’t that she wanted to be that way. She just figured it was okay—God knew she thought her egg and toast were good.

  After the silent prayer, Dat got up, pushed back his chair, and told the girls he’d see them in a little while.

  Mam sat drinking her coffee, and watched them while they hurried through clearing the table.

  Lizzie yelled, “Wash! Wash! My turn to wash!”

  Emma was carrying the glasses to the sink. She turned around and said, “Not so loud, Lizzie. So what? I don’t want to wash. Go ahead and wash!”

  “Good. I wasn’t going to let you,” Lizzie told her.

  “So. I am going to learn how to make harnesses today, and you’re too little, anyway,” Emma replied.

  Lizzie squeezed the bottle of dish detergent so hard that she had entirely too many suds in the sink.

  Mam looked over her shoulder. “Lizzie, not so much soap. You’ll never get those dishes rinsed properly.”

  “But, Mam, if you look at pictures, the soapsuds are way over the sink. English people use much more soap than Amish people do.”

  Mam hid her smile while she assured Lizzie that was probably an advertisement, and because Lizzie did not know what that was, Mam had to explain every detail of an advertisement.

  Dishes done, the girls skipped out the sidewalk and across the gravel drive to the harness shop. As they burst through the door, Lizzie inhaled deeply. She just loved the sights and smells of the harness shop. Along one wall were shelves lined with all kinds of boxes of shoes. The corner next to the shoes had a steel pole with arms, called a saddle tree. It looked like a huge tree and every branch held a saddle. There were black saddles and brown ones, tan ones, and fancy ones. The fancy saddles were all carved with designs and had lots of silver and tassels dangling from them. You could push one saddle and the whole tree revolved so you could look closely at the one you wanted.

  There were halters, bridles, neck ropes, liniments, and shampoos. Everything Dad had in his shop was about horses and ponies—except for the shoes; they were for people’s feet, and Lizzie never tired of watching customers try on new shoes.