Bringing in the Sheaves

by

Anam Chara

Have you ever had one of those days when you're a little slow on just about everything? And then you miss all the fun that everyone else is having? And then you suddenly get it when it's old news for everyone else?

Yeah! Sure you have!…

So now, a young couple, both officers in the Salvation Army, go out on logistics detail to collect used clothing…

Stanza I

Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness,
Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve;
Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

* * * * * * * * *

My wife of six weeks looked more confident and much less stressed as she eased off the clutch to wait at the traffic light.

"I knew you could do it, Lieutenant Miller," I assured Mitsuko, smiling."

"Of course you did, Lieutenant Miller," she answered me with her own smile. "After all, I've driven you around in a Porsche."

I couldn't believe that Providence had so blessed my life by moving this beautiful exemplar of feminine virtue to leave her accustomed world of amassed wealth and mounting power behind, and bind her hopes and dreams to my own. She had traded in her Porsche for a four-paneled truck, her tight silver-lamé minidresses with matching sequined clutch purses and stiletto-heeled shoes for the austere, red-trimmed, blue serge uniform of the Salvation Army.

I consulted the display of my handheld GPS device. "Continue two blocks to the next stoplight and turn left," I said to Mitsuko. "Then our destination is six blocks westward to the northwest corner."

The red light changed to green, so she eased off the clutch to put the truck in gear. We were moving again, six blocks to the next traffic signal when she began slowing down.

"Honey, you're doing fine," I assured her."There's no other traffic, so just take the turn gently, and keep going. You really can drive anything. You know that, don't you?"

Mitsuko quickly spun the horizontal steering wheel around. Truth be told, she would be better driving this than I am with some practice. The girl could drive anything. She had driven her own Porsche at sixteen and had been behind the wheel of a Ferrari Carrera GT and a Lamborghini as well. The first time she was in this truck, she seemed to know at least something about adustable seats and mirrors. Then an idea came to mind.

"Mitsuko, I would never have taken you for a farm girl," I said, both teasing and complimenting her. "I'd bet you've been in the driver's seat of a tractor. No?"

"You'd win."

"So who owns the family farm?"

"Guess again!"

"No farm?"

"No," she answered. The twinkle in her eye suggested that she wanted to tease me for a while. "But that doesn't mean I couldn't have been on a farm or driven a tractor."

She turned her attention again to the street with that tight-lipped grin suppressing an incipient giggle behind the visage of a focused worker. Mitsuko continued driving while again I consulted the GPS and looked over the form on top of my clipboard. Everything appeared in order for picking up a donation of boys' clothing.

"Honey, I think we want the house with the green roof on the right, across the next street," I remarked. "The driveway looks wide, too."

We noticed two women and two girls, preteens or maybe early teens, all dressed for tennis, and a boy waiting on the lawn of the house together. The boy was waving at us, pointing to the driveway, so I lowered the window on my side of the truck.

"Hi there!" I said. "We're here to pick up the clothes someone wants to donate."

"It's all in the garage," the boy told me. The best move would be to back the truck up into the driveway.

"Mitsuko, if you can back into the driveway, that would make loading the clothes much easier."

"That's gonna be a little tricky for me," warned my wife. "I don't have that much experience maneuvering this."

"I could try directing you from outside?"

"Let's try it then."

She pulled the truck beyond the end of the driveway and I got out. The boy had come over to meet us there and the group of women and girls followed.

"Son, I'm Lieutenant Miller," I introduced myself. "We're gonna back up the driveway, can you clear everyone else away for a moment?"

"Sure," answered the boy. "My name's Dutch."

"Glad t' meetcha, Dutch!" I said, stepping out into the street to get Mitsuko's attention. I saw Dutch turn to wave the others back.

Mitsuko was rolling her window down, so I approached her. "I'll stay here in the street and I think the boy can help you from behind."

Indeed, he was watching as I stepped back into the middle of the street, so I called out to him, "Dutch, could you stand at the back of the driveway and help wave the truck in? She's watching you in her mirrors."

The boy smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. I waved to my wife and she also nodded. Mitsuko let out the clutch and slowly began backing up. Then I remembered that she'd never operated this large a vehicle alone until now–well, not that I knew of, anyway. She was behind the wheel, taking the four-panelled truck fully in reverse. She carefully watched for Dutch and myself, very much focused on the task at hand. She backed around the corner of the driveway. And she and I both, I think, were quite impressed that Dutch knew exactly how to give signals through a mirror. At the crucial moment, he swung the garage door up and open, then Mitsuko backed up only as far as possible and then stopped. She knew just exactly where the overhead clearance was.

As she slid down from her large driver's seat, I smiled, wishing only that the hem of her skirt would ride up a little more. Then I had to brush away a tear that had formed in my eye. I was proud of her. She handled that big vehicle so easily, that I had to wonder if her anxiety behind the wheel were only a way of teasing me.

Everyone was coming toward the garage. For the first time, I noticed a rack of boys' clothes and what appeared to be a few large bags of clothing next to it. Mitsuko was already looking it over with an eye to its quality and utility.

"Hi, everyone! I'm Lieutenant Miller from the Salvation Army," I began introducing us to everyone. "And she's also Lieutenant Miller."

"But you can call me Mitsuko," she grinned. "And he goes by 'Tee-Jay'," she continued, extending her hand to each youngster. I followed up and offered my hand to everyone in turn.

”I'm Valerie Karlsdottir, and this is Techie–excuse me, my daughter, Tennie–she's going by her new nickname, now,” announced the woman with blue eyes and jet-black hair. ”You've already met her friend Dutchie, and this is her girlfriend Lanie from next door, and Lanie's mother, Abby Schmidt.”

"Are you two married?" Lanie asked them.

"Yes. Yes we are," answered Mitsuko, smiling and taking my hand in hers, "for about six weeks now."

"Then congratulations to the newlyweds!" declared Valerie. "We should invite them in for iced coffee, or perhaps lemonade?"

"Well, thank you!" I replied. "We should get this all loaded first, though. It will take a while to assess it properly. I already have the donation form ready, so you can deduct it on your taxes."

"Geeze! I hadn't even thought of that," admitted Valerie, her eye glinting obliquely at Abby. "That will make my accountant happy. She says I miss too many opportunities for easy deductions."

Abby just hid a smile behind her hand as she returned the glance to her friend and neighbor–and client!

"That's right, Val! It's why Lieutenant Miller has the form," explained Abby. "You can claim the fair value for what you're donating against your taxable income. You'll simply declare it and attach the form from the Salvation Army to your Schedule A."

"Thank you, ma'am," I offered, grateful that the donor's friend was apparently knowledgeable about tax issues. "I won't have to explain it all to her myself, then."

I gave my wife the clipboard so she might begin noting down the condition and value of the clothing while I loaded it onto the truck. I glanced over at Dutch anticipating he might lend a hand.

"Dutch, could I get you to help with the loading?" I asked. "We're the only men here."

"You can say that again!" piped Lanie with a mischievous grin, at which the other girl, Tennie, shot her an icy stare and Dutch turned quickly to take in the scene. But both girls sputtered spontaneously into a fit of giggling while the boy merely grinned and shook his head. Miss Karlsdottir then ordered her child into the kitchen as I noticed Ms. Schmidt signal her daughter to follow, but also expending quite the effort to maintain a straight face. Something was operating here today below the threshold of my own awareness. I'd need to compare notes with Mitsuko later. She would likely catch whatever was going on. She was much better at that kind of thing than myself.

Dutch continued to help me load the clothing into the truck. While we worked, I noticed that it was all in good condition, most of it almost new.

"It's really nice of you to donate all these clothes, Dutch," I said.

"Uh–they're not mine, Lieutenant Miller," answered the boy.

"Then whose are they?" my wife asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Those are–or were–all Techie's. But he's getting completely new clothes, now," Dutch told us. "He gave me first pick of anything I wanted of his old stuff, but I only took two of his funnier tee-shirts, a pair of bluejeans, and a windbreaker. I felt too guilty to take anything else. Geeze! I felt guilty taking even those!"

"Why guilty?" asked Mitsuko.

"It's all my fault he's giving it away," Dutch lamented, almost whimpering, as he continued to load the van. I started to ask him another question but my wife looked at me and shook her head.

We continued until we had loaded all the donated clothing into the van. Just as we had put the last piece into the back of it, the two girls, Tennie and Lanie came into the garage smiling. Then when I slammed the cargo door of the van, they hugged one another, jumping and dancing, giggling and squealing, then, Tennie first, they began chanting this weird, antiphonal cheer:

"I getta be a girl!"

"You gotta be a girl!"

"I gotta be a girl!"

"You getta be a girl!"

This sequence was repeated two or three times, the two girls whirling and twirling around one another in a strange dance that they must have rehearsed. Wow! Talk about cheerful givers!

Then Valerie came into the garage, and Tennie hugged her mother in the strongest display of child-to-parent affection that I had ever seen. Tennie was both smiling and crying. So was Lanie.

"Mommie, it's done!" Tennie said, embracing her tightly. "I have to be a girl, now! All the way!"

"There's no going back, now," I heard her mother say. "You're committed, now, for at least the next year."

"Yes, but it's what I want," answered Tennie. "As scared as I am of doing this, it's still what I want. I can't imagine going back to what I was."

Then it was Valerie's turn to hug her back, saying to her in tears, "And to think I had such a loving, beautiful daughter hidden away right beside me for so long!"

"But it had to happen, I think," concluded Tennie. "You're a wonderful Mom and I've always wanted to be more like you are. Maybe I can really be that now. I wanna be the prettiest, happiest, lovingest girl I can be."

I noticed that Abby and her daughter Lanie stood hip to hip, each with an arm about the other's waist, as they looked on smiling tearfully at their friends. Dutch appeared a little embarrassed as he watched his friends somewhat wistfully, but I don't think he understood why he felt so.

Some of the dialogue that I had heard between the girls and between Tennie and her mother seemed a little strange. But I had no doubt that it was sincere and that there was a strong bond of love between these mothers and their daughters and among them all, including the boy, as friends. Then they all turned to my wife and myself.

"Lieutenants Tee-Jay and Mitsuko, we have iced tea, iced coffee, and lemonade ready for you," announced Tennie. "I'm your hostess today. Please come with me to the dining room."

Lanie giggled as her girlfriend ushered us from the garage into the main house, through the kitchen and into the dining room. There were seven in the party, so only a single chair would remain vacant at the long table. Lanie removed the chair from the end nearest the kitchen while Tennie carefully brought in a tray with pitchers of iced tea, iced coffee, and lemonade. Lanie had gone into the kitchen for a tray of empty glasses, cream, sugar, and sliced lemons. Tennie then returned with a plate of cookies and another of brownies. Lanie bade Mitsuko and me be seated, and the girls' mothers and Dutch also sat down at the table.

Earlier I had noticed that Valerie and Tennie wore identical short, white, pleated tennis dresses with pink trim. Abby and Lannie wore identical white tops (what Mitsuko calls a cami) and short, pleated, pastel green skirts. So each mother-daughter pair had dressed as a team. But both girls had donned bibbed aprons to protect their tennis wear.

Lanie and Tennie went around the table offering us all our choice of treats and beverages. Mitsuko chose iced tea and a chocolate-brownie, while I accepted a glass of lemonade along with a couple of oatmeal-raisin cookies and a small brownie as well. My wife obviously was more concerned with here figure. I noticed that Abby and Valerie each took only a single brownie.

When Dutch and the girls sat down, I noted that while they all chose lemonade, the boy took two brownies, while each girl took only one. When Tennie reached for a second brownie, Lanie pulled the plate away from her and giggled when Tennie frowned.

"Tennie, you do need to learn not to eat so much all at once," Valerie said to her daughter. "Nice girls learn to eat more slowly."

"Yes, Mom," the girl answered. "Eat slower and take smaller bites."

This all seemed amusing to me and I thought it did to Mitsuko as well. She continued smiling through much of what was happening today, as if she knew what was going on. Maybe I was witness to some rite of passage shared by women and girls that my wife would need to explain to me. And Dutch. He had looked so embarrassed and uncomfortable at whatever was going on.

We chatted around the table about various topics, mostly learning about each other. Valerie was a software engineer, but as her employer had fallen on hard times, her income had fallen. She had tried consulting, but there were problems since much of her skill was based on proprietary knowledge, there were contractual legalities as well as ethical considerations preventing her from selling her best work in the marketplace. More recently she had begun writing in the hope that her former hobby might yield a new career. We learned that Abby was a certified public accountant and often advised Valerie and other clients about taxes, although that was hardly the main focus of her practice.

Mitsuko spoke up after she had eaten her brownie. "Miss Karlsdottir," she began, "this tax form that I'm signing now states the fair market value for your donation. Since Ms. Schmidt does your taxes, we can leave it to you and her to discuss. And thank you so very much for your donation, especially as the clothing is in excellent condition. Quite a few garments look like they've hardly been worn."

"Well, that's true enough," Valerie remarked, accepting the donation appraisal form from my wife. "I know that a few shirts were worn only once each.

"I'm happy to be getting the deduction, since it will offset some of the cost for Tennie's new wardrobe," Valerie said as she handed the tax form off to Abby.

About that time my mobile telephone rang in my pocket. From the ringtone, I knew that my local commander, Maj. Bailey was calling.

"Excuse me, please," I said, pulling the 'phone from its case on my belt. "I need to take this call."

I stepped out of the dining room into a salon and answered the call. The Major had another donation for us to pick up, so it was time for Mitusko and me to be going. I went back into the dining room.

"Excuse me again," I addressed everyone. Then I turned to my wife. "Mitusko, that was Major Bailey. He just got a call from someone, so now we have another donation to pick up."

Mitsuko stood and apologized for us. "We're sorry," she said. "We'll have to be going. But we've so enjoyed your hospitality this morning."

"And thanks again for your donation," I said. "It's like a boy gave up everything in his closet."

"Well thank you two for coming Lieutenants," Valerie offered. "And congratulations again on your marriage. It must be so exciting to be newlyweds."

Mitsuko's delicately outstretched fingers had covered her blushing smile. So I nodded to Valerie in appreciation. Then I discovered that I was fighting against my own prejudice. Miss Karlsdottir was unmarried and had never been. Her daughter Tennie had to have been born out of wedlock. But here was a mother and daughter in the most loving home whose threshold we'd ever crossed. I felt upset that there had been such a sin, yet there was no denying that she sought to raise her daughter right.

Ms. Schmidt and Lanie also congratulated us as everyone hugged us wished us well. Abby had apparently been married, yet her marriage had failed. Already, my mind began to wonder, whose sin was responsible for that failure?

Once again I was getting angry with myself for so quickly judging these women. Mitsuko was so right that I need to quit doing that. But because I had grown up learning to judge everyone as I had been, she's been trying to get me to look at the Gospels in a different way than I was used to doing.

So we went out to the van, but before I got in, I noticed that Dutch had tagged along behind me. And now he looked very sad.

"Lieutenant Miller, are Salvation Army officers like ministers?" he asked me.

"Yes we are?" I answered him. "Why? Do you need to talk to one?"

The boy looked down at the ground, then at me.

"I think I do."

"Well, would you like to talk with me about whatever's bothering you?"

"Yeah, if I can?"

I took a business card out of my wallet and gave it to him.

"We have to go right now, but you can give me a call later today and we'll figure out how to help you out," I promised. "We can talk on the 'phone, or you could visit me at the Salvation Army post, or anywhere else that you'd feel comfortable talking. Okay?"

Dutch smiled weakly, yet it was a smile.

"Thanks, Lieutenant," said the boy.

"Just call me Tee-Jay, okay?"

"Okay, Lieutenant–I mean, Tee-Jay."

And with that he ran off to join his Tennie and Lanie, who began reciting their strange chant once again:

"I getta be a girl!"

"You gotta be a girl!"

"I gotta be a girl!"

"You getta be a girl!"

I got into the van and shut the door as Mitsuko started the engine.

"That was nice of them to offer us refreshments," I said. "But this visit seemed a little strange somehow."

"Oh, I bet it did!" Mitsuko giggled as she put the van in gear. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

"No, but I thought you might help me," I confessed as we pulled out of the Karlsdottirs' driveway.

My wife's giggle was now full-blown laughter.

"You really don't know, do you?" she asked me to confirm as she turned onto the main street.

"No," I answered impatiently. "What was going on back there?"

"Valerie's 'daughter' Tennie is a boy. He's donated all of his old clothing so that he has to dress like a girl for the next school year."

* * * * * * * * *

Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves,
Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

©2011 by Anam Chara