The Furniture Shop

The rich scent of freshly planed pine and oak drifted through the open doorway long before Samuel reached the furniture shop.

Inside, light poured through the tall windows, illuminating thousands of tiny wood shavings scattered across the floor like curled ribbons.

The shop bustled with activity.

Along one wall stood stacks of carefully dried lumber waiting their turn.

Nearby, finished tables, chairs, bedsteads, cupboards, cabinets, bookshelves, cradles, and benches stood ready for delivery.

Every piece reflected the simple beauty the Amish had become known for through generations of skilled craftsmanship.

At the center of the room stood Eli Stoltzfus.

His silver beard rested against his suspenders as he watched four young apprentices at their benches.

One carefully pushed a hand plane across a long oak board, another shaped a graceful chair leg with a spokeshave, while two others patiently fitted mortise-and-tenon joints that would hold for generations without a single nail.

Samuel removed his hat.

"Good morning, Eli."

The old craftsman looked up and smiled.

"Morning, Samuel. Come on in."

Samuel walked slowly through the shop, admiring the work.

"I see you've got your hands full."

Eli chuckled.

"The settlement keeps growing. Every family needs a table to gather around, chairs to sit on, beds to sleep in, cupboards for dishes, and shelves for everything else."

Samuel watched one of the young men checking the fit of a dovetail joint.

"I notice you spend as much time teaching as building."

Eli nodded.

"A good cabinetmaker doesn't happen overnight."

He laid a hand on one apprentice's shoulder.

"The best way to teach a young fellow is to put a tool in his hands."

Samuel smiled.

"So you're building furniture."

Eli shook his head.

"No, Samuel."

He looked proudly at the apprentices.

"Furniture comes later."

He paused for a moment.

"Right now we're building cabinetmakers."

Samuel stood quietly, watching the young men work.

No one hurried.

No one wasted a movement.

Every shaving that curled from a hand plane made the board beneath it a little smoother.

Every carefully cut joint brought another piece closer to becoming furniture that would likely outlive the craftsman who built it.

Just then Rebecca appeared in the doorway carrying her familiar basket covered with a white cloth and a stoneware jug tucked beneath her arm.

"I thought I might find a room full of hungry woodworkers."

The apprentices grinned before setting down their tools.

Rebecca uncovered the basket.

The warm aroma of blackberry pie quickly filled the shop.

As she handed each man a generous slice and poured fresh coffee into enamel cups, she looked around at the growing collection of tables and chairs.

"I've been thinking," she said.

Everyone looked up.

"If you fellows keep making chairs this fast..."

She paused just long enough.

"...I'm going to have to learn how to bake more people."

The apprentices burst into laughter.

Even Eli leaned against his workbench, chuckling.

"That," he said, "sounds considerably harder than making furniture."

Rebecca smiled as she poured another cup of coffee.

"It is."

She nodded toward the young apprentices.

"That's why I leave the woodworking to you."

For a little while the room fell quiet except for the sound of pie forks tapping enamel plates and the gentle conversation that always seemed to accompany fresh coffee.

When the last crumbs disappeared, the apprentices returned to their benches.

The shop came alive once again.

Planes whispered across oak.

Chisels trimmed perfect joints.

Mallets tapped with quiet precision.

Samuel stood in the doorway for one last look.

Each shop he visited seemed to build something different.

The brick masons built foundations.

The loggers harvested forests.

The sawmill cut lumber.

The cooper shaped vessels.

The weavers made cloth.

Now the furniture makers were turning empty cabins into welcoming homes.

Samuel smiled.

A house could be built in a day.

A home took craftsmen.

He tipped his hat to Eli and the apprentices before stepping back into the fresh air, already hearing the sounds of another trade waiting somewhere farther down the lane.