Looking for a Miracle

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Mom laughed and tickled Dad beneath his full beard, which had recently become sprinkled with a few gray hairs. “All right, Andrew, you’ve won the game fair and square, so now you’re deserving of a reward. How about a piece of pie? If your growing son hasn’t eaten it all, that is,” she added with a wink.

  “You two act like a couple of kinner,” Rebekah said with a mock frown. “Watch out now, or you’ll end up waking Nadine and Grandma Stoltzfus.”

  Dad chuckled. “Well now, we wouldn’t want to do that, would we? Grandma might eat all the pie before any of us could make it to the refrigerator.”

  “Dad,” Rebekah said with a snicker. “You know Grandma doesn’t eat so much.”

  Dad bent down and tapped her under the chin. “That’s true, but if Simon or little sister Nadine should decide to help her, then I might have to take on a second job just to pay for the grocery bills.”

  “You’re such a tease,” Rebekah said, as she propelled her chair quickly away from him.

  “You’re right, I am. That’s why your mamm agreed to marry me. She loves to be teased.” He turned his attentions on Mom again, tickling her in the ribs and under the chin.

  She tickled him right back, and soon the two of them were howling and tickling so much that Rebekah was sure they really would wake Grandma or Nadine.

  As Mom and Dad chased each other around the table, a pang of jealousy washed over Rebekah like the rippling creek running across the back of their farm. She couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to laugh and run around with a young man—someone she loved as much as her folks obviously loved each other. But that would take a miracle, and miracles only happened back in the Bible days, didn’t they?

  A silent prayer for an honest-to-goodness miracle floated through Rebekah’s mind as she directed her wheelchair toward her downstairs bedroom. What she really needed was to quit thinking about miracles and be alone for a while.

  ***

  “I wonder what’s wrong with Rebekah tonight,” Andrew said to Sarah as they started another game of Scrabble. He squinted at the board and reached for two letters from his pile. “She sure didn’t act like she enjoyed that singing so much.”

  “She didn’t enjoy it at all,” Simon chimed in before Sarah could respond. “You should have seen the way she sat there in her wheelchair watching the others play games with a big old scowl on her face. Guess she felt left out because she couldn’t join in the fun, but I don’t think that’s any excuse for being such a stick-in-the-mud.”

  Sarah glanced over at Andrew. “I hate to see our daughter hurting so. Maybe it would be best if we didn’t allow her to go to any more singings or young people’s functions.”

  Andrew’s eyebrows lowered as he frowned, causing deep wrinkles to form on his forehead. “We can’t shield Rebekah from everything, Sarah. She’s not a little girl anymore, and she needs to mingle with others her age, don’t you think?”

  “I—I suppose so, but—”

  “It’s time for her to grow up and realize that even though she can’t do everything others can do, she’s still a capable person and can do many things quite well.” He added two of his letters to a word already on the Scrabble board, which gave him another ten points.

  Sarah took her turn, making a five-letter word and racking up fifteen more points.

  Simon chuckled. “You’d better watch out, Dad, or Mom might skunk ya on this game.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Back to the subject of my moody sister,” Simon said. “I read in the paper the other day that there’s going to be a convention in Ohio next month. It’s for Amish folks who are handicapped, like Rebekah. Maybe the two of you could hire a driver and take her there. That would give her the chance to be with some people she could relate to better, and maybe she’d even learn a few new things about how to cope with her disability.”

  Sarah opened her mouth to comment, but Simon rushed on before she could get a word out. “If you’re worried about Grandma, Nadine, and me, I’m sure we can get along fine by ourselves for the couple of days you’d be gone.”

  Andrew squinted as he continued to study the board. “I read about that handicap convention, too, but I’m not sure I could get away from the farm that long, so your mamm might have to be the one to take her.” He glanced up from the board and looked over at Sarah. “How do you feel about it? Do you think Rebekah would agree to go?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose we could ask her.”

  “You want to bring it up, or should I?”

  “I’ll mention it tomorrow,” Sarah replied. “In the meantime, I’ll be praying that she will be open to the idea.”

  Andrew nodded. “I’ll do the same.”

  ***

  All the way home from the singing, Daniel thought about Rebekah—how cute she was, how sad she had looked sitting in her wheelchair all alone.

  “It must be hard for her not being able to run around and play games like the other young people do,” he muttered as he guided his horse and open carriage up the long driveway that led to his father’s house and dairy farm. He had enjoyed his brief conversation with Rebekah tonight, even though she hadn’t said all that much. He wished he’d been able to get up the nerve to ask if he could give her a ride home from the singing in his courting buggy.

  Daniel pulled up to the barn and climbed down from the buggy. “’Course it ain’t likely that she’d have agreed to go,” he mumbled as he kicked a couple of small stones with the toe of his boot. After all, there had been a lot more interesting fellows at the singing tonight than him—some with fancy buggies they’d fixed up to impress the girls, some with fun-loving personalities like Johnny Yoder. “Wish I could be more like him instead of being afraid I’ll say the wrong thing or do something stupid.”

  He quickly unhitched his horse and led him toward the barn as a feeling of regret threatened to weigh him down. “Even if I had found the nerve to ask if Rebekah would take a ride in my rig, it ain’t likely she would have been interested in riding home in my simple courting buggy with an ordinary fellow like me.”

  CHAPTER 2

  When Rebekah awoke the following morning, she felt physically drained and out of sorts. She had lain awake for hours, thinking about her disability and all the restrictions she had to deal with. She wondered if there was some way she could possibly fit in with the other young people her age. Since she wasn’t able to join most of their activities, she couldn’t really blame them for ignoring her, but it hurt, nonetheless. She seemed to be more accepted by older people—especially Grandma. Maybe it was because Grandma couldn’t do as much as the younger ones did. Most of her activities, though not as restricted as Rebekah’s, were still a bit hampered.

  Rebekah knew her parents and grandmother loved her and were dedicated to taking care of her needs, but she worried about what would become of her when they were gone. Would her younger brother or sister, or maybe a cousin or niece, be stuck caring for her? She didn’t want to be a burden to anyone and wished there was some way she could provide for her own needs.

  Rebekah pulled herself to an upright position, using the wooden side rails on her bed to lend the needed support. I know I’ll never have a husband or children of my own, but if I could at least be financially independent, I would be less of a burden to everyone.

  Unbidden tears slipped out of Rebekah’s eyes, rolling down her cheeks in little rivulets. What could one crippled young Amish woman do that would provide her with enough money to care for herself? Was it even possible, or was it just wishful thinking?

  “I think what I need to do is commit this problem to prayer,” she whispered. “Jah, that’s what Grandma would say I should do.”

  Closing her eyes, Rebekah sent up a silent petition to God. Heavenly Father, what I need is a miracle. If You still perform miracles, could You please give me some kind of a sign? I know I’ve done nothing to deserve a miracle, and I’m not asking You to heal my crippled body or give me a husband. I only want to sup
port myself, so I’m not such a burden to my family. If You could show me how to do that, I’d be much obliged. Amen.

  Silence filled Rebekah’s small, unadorned bedroom. Had she really expected God to answer her out loud? Hadn’t the bishop and other ministers in their church shared some scripture verses proving that God talked to people’s hearts? Sometimes He spoke through other believers or from His Holy Word. Rebekah had read herself how God had spoken out loud to some people in the Bible, but she figured they probably needed that type of thing back then. If there was any hope of her receiving a miracle, she felt it would only occur if she learned more patience, read her Bible regularly, and prayed every day.

  ***

  As Rebekah wheeled into the kitchen, Sarah turned from the stove where she had been frying a slab of bacon. “ Guder mariye, daughter,” she said with a smile. She hoped after a good night’s sleep Rebekah might be in a more cheerful mood.

  “Good morning,” Rebekah mumbled.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “I slept okay.”

  Sarah could see by the solemn expression on her daughter’s face that she still wasn’t in the best of moods. Maybe now wasn’t a good time to bring up the subject of the handicap convention. It might be better to wait until after they had eaten breakfast to talk about the possibility of the two of them going to Ohio. Maybe Rebekah would be in a better mood once her stomach was full of bacon and eggs.

  Rebekah wheeled into the middle of the room and glanced around. “Where’s Grandma? She’s usually the first one to the kitchen every morning.”

  “Still in bed. When I came into the kitchen and realized she wasn’t here, I went in to check on her.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Said she wasn’t feeling well, so I told her we could manage and insisted that she stay in bed and rest awhile.”

  “She seemed to be feeling all right yesterday evening before Simon and I left for the singing.” Rebekah’s lips puckered as her forehead wrinkled with obvious concern. “Sure hope it’s nothing serious.”

  Sarah flipped the bacon over in the frying pan. “She’s been a little tired the past few days, but other than that, she’s made no complaints until this morning. I think sometimes she tries to do too much for a woman her age.”

  Rebekah nodded. “I know she does. Ever since Grandma came to live here, she’s done the work of two women. It wonders me so how she can keep up like she does.”

  “Jah, but in the beginning, I think keeping busy helped her not miss Grandpa so much, and now she’s just developed a habit of always being on the move.”

  “It was nice that Aunt Mim and Uncle Amos named their son Henry, after Grandpa Stoltzfus,” Rebekah said, changing the subject.

  “I know it meant a lot to Grandma at the time, and even now, whenever young Henry’s around, I believe she thinks of your grossdaddi.”

  “Jah. She’s often said that in many ways Henry reminds her of Grandpa.” Rebekah glanced at Grandma’s bedroom door, which was just across the hall and right next to her own room. “Do you think maybe she should see the doctor?”

  “If she’s not up and around and acting like her old self by this afternoon, I’ll speak to your daed and see that he takes her to see Dr. Manney.”

  Rebekah nodded and wheeled toward the table. “What can I do to help with breakfast, and where’s Nadine? She’s not sick, too, I hope.”

  “No, she’s feeling fine. I sent her out to gather some eggs a little while ago.” Sarah piled the crispy bacon into a glass pan and popped it into the oven so it would stay warm until breakfast was served. “I’ll be doing some baking later this morning, and since we’re having eggs for breakfast, we might run short. I checked the refrigerator, and there aren’t as many now as I remember.”

  “Simon probably ate them,” Rebekah said. “Now that it’s summertime and he has a lot more chores to do, he eats enough to feed ten boys his age.”

  Sarah was glad to see Rebekah relaxing a bit and making a joke—even if it had been at her brother’s expense. “You’re right. Simon can surely put away the food these days.” She clicked her tongue. “I pity the poor woman my boy marries. She’ll probably have to cook from sunup to sunset in order to keep his stomach satisfied.”

  “Maybe we should start alerting all the eligible women in our community right now. That way, if anyone should ever fall for my little bruder, she can’t say she wasn’t warned.”

  Sarah reached for a can of coffee from the cupboard. “Enough about Simon and his eating habits. How about if you scramble up some eggs while I get the coffee going?”

  Rebekah frowned. “You know it’s hard for me to reach the stove from my wheelchair.”

  Sarah turned to face her daughter and squinted. “I thought you might decide to wear your crutches and leg braces today. You can stand at the stove for a short time if you’re using them.”

  “Jah, but it’s so much trouble to put them on. Besides, the braces make my legs stiff like a doll’s.”

  “I know they’re awkward and uncomfortable, but they do allow you to stand and even walk a short ways. It’s much more than we could have hoped for, since the doctors said you would probably never walk again.”

  “Okay, Mom, I’ll go get the leg braces,” Rebekah muttered as she turned her wheelchair toward the door leading to the hallway.

  “Better wait on that,” Sarah called. “The menfolk will be in from their chores soon, and we need to get breakfast on as quickly as possible because I’m sure they’ll be anxious to get out to the fields.” She motioned to the table. “Why don’t you set the dishes and silverware out? Nadine can cook up the eggs when she gets back. We’ll have more eggs by then anyhow.”

  “Jah.”

  The back door opened with a whoosh, and Nadine burst into the room, all red-faced and wearing a smile that stretched ear to ear. Instead of her usual stiff white kapp, she wore a black kerchief over her pinned-up brown hair.

  “How’d it go in the chicken coop?” Sarah asked.

  “I got over a dozen eggs.” Nadine lifted the basket she held in her hands and grinned. “I’m thinkin’ those fat little hens must like summer nearly as much as I do.” She placed the basket of eggs on the counter and went to wash up at the sink.

  “I’m glad it went well, and it’s a good thing they’re laying so well,” Sarah replied. “We’re having scrambled eggs this morning, and I was afraid we might run out and I wouldn’t have enough for the baking I want to do later.” She stepped away from the stove. “Nadine, would you please scramble up the eggs?”

  “Sure.” Nadine moved over to the stove; then she glanced over at Rebekah, who had just placed some silverware on the table. “How was the singing last night, sister? Did you have a good time?”

  “It was okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “Jah.”

  “Well, I can’t wait until I’m allowed to go to one.” Nadine cast a wistful look in Sarah’s direction.

  Sarah smiled. “You’ll get there soon enough, like as not.”

  Rebekah wheeled over to the cupboard where the dishes were kept. “Going to a singing isn’t that exciting.”

  “You must be joking. There are boys at those singings, right?”

  Rebekah lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Of course there are boys.”

  “Then I think it would be a lot of fun to go to one.”

  “Which is why you’re not ready to go to any singings yet,” Sarah said firmly. “In my opinion, a girl of fourteen shouldn’t be so interested in the opposite sex, either.”

  “Oh, Mom,” Nadine groaned. “I’ll bet if you had your way, I’d grow up to be en alt maedel like Rebekah.”

  “Nadine Stoltzfus, that’s an awful thing to say about your sister. Rebekah is not an old maid. She’s only nineteen and still has plenty of time to get married. I think you should apologize to Rebekah for saying that, don’t you?”

  Nadine’s youthful face reddened as she looked down at Rebekah with her eyebro
ws drawn together. “Well, I—I—”

  “Go ahead,” Sarah prompted. “Tell you sister you’re sorry for what you said.”

  Rebekah held up her hand. “It’s all right. Nadine spoke the truth. I am en alt maedel, and that’s just the way of it.”

  “Such nonsense,” Sarah said with a shake of her head. “When the right man comes along and captures your heart, you’ll marry and start a family of your own.”

  Rebekah’s gaze went immediately to her crippled legs. “Like this?” She touched one knee and then the other. “Would any man want a wife who looks like me?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look, Rebekah.”

  “But who would want someone who can’t do all the things a normal wife should be able to do?” Tears slipped out from under Rebekah’s dark lashes, and she blinked several times.

  Sarah rushed to her daughter’s side and dropped down beside her wheelchair. “Oh, Rebekah, please don’t say things like that.”

  Rebekah leaned her head against Sarah’s shoulder and wept. “It’s true, and you know it. No one will ever want me. I’ll never find a husband, and I’m nothing but a burden to my family.”

  “That’s not so.”

  “Jah, it is, and no one understands how I feel about things.”

  Deciding that now might be a good time to bring up the handicap convention, Sarah patted Rebekah’s back gently and said, “Simon mentioned last night that he’d read about a convention for Amish people who have handicaps like you. It’s to be held next month in Ohio, and your daed and I thought maybe you and I could—”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere right now,” Rebekah interrupted. “Especially not to some convention where I don’t know anyone.” She released a quiet moan. “I just want to be able to take care of myself.”

  “Oh, but you do. You’ve learned to dress and groom yourself, and you can do so many other important things.”