“Just like a rainbow,” Mrs. Kelly whispered. 

“Just like the rainbow, it’s a reminder of God’s perfect wisdom,” Mr. Randy said, smiling, “He knows just how to order the seasons and storms so that our world is just the way He wants it.”

“Fresh and new,” Mrs. Kelly whispered, her words spoken softly again as if she was afraid a loud voice would scare the painted sky away.

“It’s so perfect,” Charley whispered. 

Matthew, Stephen, and Joseph grinned broadly as they admired the sky too.  It was a wonderful painting.  Joseph and Charley especially shared their mother’s love of the brilliant skies.  They loved the beauty of God’s creation.  As their mother often said, the most breathtaking of creation were new skies and new babies. 

“All right,” Mrs. Kelly sighed as Matthew yawned, “it is time for bed.”

“Yes ma’am!” Charley sounded and ran back to the house.

“Yes ma’am,” Stephen said, tugging at Matthew’s arm before Matthew could rebut.  Stephen didn’t want his brother to ruin the nice moment.  Matthew succumbed to Stephen’s hint and the two scurried back toward the house.  Joseph quickly added his own “yes ma’am” and followed them. 

Mr. Randy watched the boys and chuckled as the door slammed shut after their entry.  He smiled at his wife and rested his arm over her shoulders. 

“And?”  She teased.

“And?” the boyish grin crept into plain sight on his face, “what and?” 

Kelly brushed the lizard Randy had released on her arm off to the ground and giggled, “sometimes I wonder who is younger, you or Jacob.”

Her husband only chuckled at that and watched the tiny lizard slither into the field.  He stopped his eyes at the rows of tiny green squash sprouts, eagerly spreading their wide leaves at the dimming sun.  Randy’s grin faded and he walked toward the field. 

Kelly saw and followed.  In one row about sixty or so sprouts sat neatly in a straight line, stopping in a huge pile of sprouts fighting to reach the sun from the green tangle. 

“Randy…” Kelly’s voice trailed off. 

“I know,” his pause was to quell his own anger.  He drew a calming breath and inhaled a prayer, “Joseph didn’t finish.  They won’t grow like that.  We need those plants.”

“Randy,” Kelly laid her hand on his shoulder as he started to dig out the plants, “do it tomorrow when you have light.”

The light was quickly fading.  As usual, his wife’s wisdom was warranted.  Randy shook his head, “that boy.”

“You asked for patience.”

Randy chuckled.  “I know better than that; every time I ask for patience something tries it.”

At this Kelly smiled, “you do build patience like a muscle… by using it.”

Joseph woke the next morning to Jacob bouncing on him and yelling “Daddy’s got to speak today!  Daddy’s got to speak today!  Wake up!”

Matthew and Stephen lobbed pillows at Jacob and he lost his balance, falling on top of Joseph with a giggle. 

Jacob, undaunted, yelled, “wake up sleepy heads!” 

Joseph grabbed his little brother in a bear hug and threw him under the covers.  “We’re already awake, Jake.” 

Matthew and Stephen laid on the edge of the blanket and laughed as Jacob tried to wrestle his way out.  Joseph slid into his shirt and pants and stuffed his feet into his boots. 

“Mommy!”  The muffled shout came from under the blanket. 

“Alright, let him out you two,” Joseph ordered.  When they just snickered, Joseph yanked the blanket up, tossing Stephen on top of Matthew and freeing Jacob. 

“That wasn’t nice!”  Jacob announced as he stood.  Matthew and Stephen jumped toward him, but the nimble toddler darted out of the way and scurried down the ladder.  Joseph laughed and followed.

“Mom, I’m going to help Dad with the animals,” Joseph said as he reached the bottom of the ladder.  It opened into the edge of the main room. 

“Boots on,” his mother reminded as she tapped the center loaf of bread in the bread-house, the carved-out stone that sat atop the fire in which they baked breads.

“Yes ma’am,” Joseph returned as he slithered out the door and ran for the barn. 

As he approached the barn, however, he noticed that his father was kneeling in the squash field making holes with a fat stick.  Joseph curiously came closer. 

When Joseph realized his father was digging holes to transplant squash seedlings, he immediately remembered the seeds he had dumped into a single hole to replant later and his face turned crimson with shame.  Less than one-tenth of his row was done correctly.

“Dad,” Joseph’s voice came out weak. 

“There you are,” his father glanced at him, “we’ve a lot of work to finish this morning.”  He turned back to the long row and finished making holes in the last twenty feet.

“But dad, you’re to speak this morning… I did this; I should replant them, not you.”

Mr. Randy moved back to the pile of tangled seedlings and his water pail near them. 

“Joseph,” he waited until Joseph looked right at him, “you were trusted to plant them correctly the first time.  In light of this,” he indicated the pile, “how can I trust you now?”

Joseph’s words caught in his throat.  He knelt by the pile of seedlings and gently started to pull the soil away from them.  As they worked to detangle the seedlings without damaging their fragile white roots or fat stems, Joseph’s thoughts tortured him. 

“Dad,” he paused as he set a tiny untangled plant in the next hole and carefully put soil in to cover the roots, “what about the meeting?  It’s your turn to speak.”

“Yes,” Mr. Randy nodded, setting another untangled plant in the growing pile for Joseph to replant, “I have that responsibility today.  Your mother will explain to them why I’m going to be late.  You are my first responsibility.  God has given a man charge over his family first; if he can’t honor that responsibility, he shouldn’t attempt to move beyond it.”

“You mean like the passages about the elders being men whose families are in order?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Joseph managed to push the guilt lump away, “I meant to replant them when I got home but the child-lifter came and then I forgot about them.”

“Why did you bury them all together in the first place?”

Joseph bit his lip and admitted, “even Jacob had finished; I didn’t mean to be daydreaming so long.  I didn’t want to make you disappointed in me; I wanted to finish like I was supposed to.”

“I’m more disappointed that you would try to lie about it.”

“I didn’t lie about it,” Joseph balked.

Mr. Randy stopped to look directly at Joseph.  “You didn’t tell your mother that you planted them all?”

Joseph dropped his eyes away. “I did.”

“You may have put all the seeds in the ground, but you didn’t put them where they were supposed to go; so that was a lie.”

Joseph nodded, “I forgot about that.”

The field was silent except for the soft squishy sound of wet soil being slid into holes and the light stomp of boots on the ground for a few minutes. 

“Dad, are you angry at me?” Joseph asked.

“When I discovered your lie, yes,” his father eyed him, “now, only disappointed and hurt.  I thought I could trust you to be honest.”

Joseph returned his attention to the plants he was setting in the holes.  “I’m really sorry.”  Enough time passed for Joseph to replant three seedlings.  “Can you forgive me?”

“Already did; but it’ll take quite a lot of work for you to regain my trust,” Mr. Randy informed.

Joseph nodded, he knew what the next words would be; he had heard the phrase too many times from many in Covenant. “Forgiveness is freely given; trust is earned.”

Chapter Four: Lessons

The sun told them it was nearing dinnertime as Alena watched the worn path for her best friend. 

Miss Kelly had said that Joseph and his dad would be coming after they finished replanting squashes.  Alena didn’t want to hear Mr. Ric speak; she liked Mr. Randy better because his eyes always sparkled like Joseph’s.  Mr. Ric spoke with conviction and authority but his delivery was always monotone and Alena would find herself distracted by anything else; her Dad’s curling light hair, a passing butterfly, Virginia or Christine’s colorful hair accessories, any of the babies’ cooing, or even a swaying tree.  This didn’t help her remember the lesson of the speaker and would make her father disappointed when he questioned her on Monday about it.

Alena sighed.  They would only give Mr. Randy until three o’clock to get here.  She stole a glance at the sundial on the center of the garden.  It was almost three. 

Finally she spied Mr. Randy and Joseph’s figures appearing at the curve of the path. 

“Mr. Randy’s here!” Alena yelled as she jumped up and spun around to face everyone else in the square. 

Most of the adults were gathered around and in the meetinghouse with the smallest of the children.  The other children were playing games outside or listening to Butterfly and Celia telling stories.  Everyone gathered into the meetinghouse for the meeting to begin. 

“Joseph,” Alena whispered in a break between stories later after the council was meeting. 

“What?”

“Were you late because of the seeds you hid?”

He nodded, unwilling to speak it. 

Alena waited. 

“You were right, though.” Joseph sighed and looked at the swaying grasses in the meadow.

“About what?”

“God told him.  I forgot to.”

“Forgot?”

Joseph swallowed, “on Sunday I remembered but just didn’t want to say, but later I just forgot about them.”

“Oh,” she paused, “so, do you feel better now.  You aren’t being mopey anyways.”

“I guess so.  I still feel bad that I made more work for Dad.”

“Well, your dad was speaking about patience,” Alena grinned, “Daddy always tells Mom, you asked for patience when something tries her patience.  So, I think God does that to make adults more patient.” 

Joseph laughed. 

“Anyways, at least your planting is done so you and Matty and Stephen can come over and help us with the Brown-Sheep stuff.”

“Shearing?”

“Yes, that’s what I meant.  We have to shear this week because the lambs are due to come next week.  I love the baby lambs.”

Joseph smiled.  Alena usually mirrored her father’s optimism.  She also had his love for nature.  Joseph was glad she was his friend. 

***THE END***