“You don’t need to make up excuses to come here, Bobby. We know you’re here to see Jenna.”
And Bobby would blush and then smile and nod. “Can you blame me?”
And Jerusha could not, for she wanted her little girl to grow up surrounded by people who loved the child deeply. And then she would pass the little girl into Bobby’s arms and watch with glee while the normally reserved Bobby Halverson made a lovable fool of himself with baby talk and silliness as Jenna cooed in appreciation.
During the first year of her life, Jenna grew strong and precocious. She began to form words early and seemed to have an insatiable curiosity about everything, especially language. She would sit for a long time trying out sounds, repeating interesting or amusing syllables over and over. Sometimes when she said something new or made a sound that felt strange to her mouth, she giggled and waved her arms.
“She’s just like you, Reuben,” Jerusha said. “She’s obviously a deep thinker, and she’s sharing some arcane wisdom with herself.”
Reuben would take the baby in his arms and hold her. Sometimes a serious look would come over his face as he beheld his daughter.
“I’ve made so many mistakes,” he said one day. “I won’t let our girl make the same errors I made. I’ll keep the world and its evil from her as long as I can.”
“At some point in her life, she’s going to have to find out these things for herself.”
Suddenly Reuben was up out of his chair, pacing, agitated. “No she won’t. We will see to it that she follows the Amish ways all her life. We have the means within our faith to remain unstained from the world. We will make sure that she follows the rules of the ordnung.”
Jerusha stared at Reuben. “I wasn’t meaning to upset you,” she said quietly. “You’re right, of course. I know that there’s safety in the way we live. Now calm yourself and sit. We have plenty of time before we have to worry about such things.”
Reuben turned to Jerusha as though he was going to say something and then thought better of it. He controlled himself and sat back down in his chair. The outburst seemed to have drained him completely. His shoulders slumped, and his features looked drawn. He took a moment and then spoke.
“Jerusha, I am the way I am for a reason. I’ve been to hell and back. I once said I wouldn’t speak of it, but there is part of it you must hear to understand me. When I was in the Pacific fighting the Japanese, I saw the very depths of man’s corruption. Man is hopelessly lost, and each one of us is fully capable of the most horrifying, depraved behavior. I know because that is how I behaved when I was on Guadalcanal. After the war, I swore I would never set foot out in the world again. So I returned home and to the church because it’s the only way I know to live a righteous life. The ordnung is like a fortress I can take refuge in. I need not ever worry, for when I have questions, our faith has the answer. That’s what saves me, guides me, and keeps me sane...and that’s how our family will live.”
Jerusha sat silently, her emotions churning within her. He has come back to the church to hide, but somehow in his fear he has kept the Lord out of his fortress.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
A Test of Faith
FOUR YEARS PASSED SWIFTLY in Reuben and Jerusha’s home. Jenna grew, and soon everyone could see she was a special girl. She somehow avoided most of the pitfalls of early childhood. She was not self-centered or challenging in any way. Indeed, she was turning into a compassionate and caring little girl. An injured bird would bring her to tears; a hungry kitten would be brought to Mama for attention.
Jenna learned obedience and respect at an early age, much to the admiration of the adults who knew her. Her love for her parents was seen in how quietly she would sit and play as her mother worked around the house or quilted. And when she heard the latch lift on the door in the evening, would run to her daed’s arms.
“It’s almost as though she already knows der Heilige Geist,” Jerusha’s father said one day. “I’ve never known a child so gentle and kind.”
“Ja, Vater, sie ist ein spezielles Kind,” replied Jerusha. “She is a special child.”
One day when Jenna was four years old, some of Jerusha’s friends and their children came to visit. After the women visited for a while, Jenna came into the house from playing in the yard with tears in her eyes.
“Was ist los, dochter?” asked Jerusha.
“Jonas hit me, Mama.”
Jonas’ mother got up to fetch her child. “I will make sure to spank him, Jerusha,” she said.
“No, please don’t spank him,” said Jenna. “I forgive Jonas.”
“But Jonas did a bad thing, Jenna,” Jerusha explained. “He deserves a spanking.”
“We all deserve a spanking,” said Jenna, “but mostly God forgives us. So I forgive Jonas.”
The women stared at Jenna with surprise, and then Jerusha took her little girl into her lap and held her. “You are kind, my darling, and you are right. We all do deserve a spanking, but God in His mercy has forgiven us.”
One day in the fall of 1949, without warning, the lives of the Springer family suddenly changed. Jenna came in from playing and said she didn’t feel well.
Jerusha felt her forehead and, sensing no fever, offered Jenna a snack. But the girl replied, “I’m not hungry, Mama. I want to take a nap.”
That in itself was unusual, but Jerusha chalked it up to Jenna having simply played too hard with the other children. Still, she put Jenna to bed and went about her work. When she went to wake Jenna later, the child was still drowsy and difficult to rouse. Jerusha let her stay in bed, and she slept through dinner.
“Where’s Jenna?” Reuben asked when he came in after work.
“She didn’t feel well, and she’s in bed,” Jerusha said.
They had dinner, and as they sat together afterward, Jerusha heard Jenna crying in her room. She went in and lit the gaslight.
“Please turn it off, Mama. It hurts my eyes.”
“What’s wrong, child?” Jerusha asked.
“My head hurts, Mama. It hurts bad.”
Jerusha sat on the edge of the bed and felt Jenna’s forehead again. This time she felt very warm.
“Mama, I said turn the light down,” said Jenna irritably. “It hurts my eyes.”
“Ja, Jenna,” replied Jerusha in surprise as she stood and turned down the light. Her daughter had never spoken to her that way before.
“My neck hurts, Mama. It’s hard to move.”
“I’ll fix you something,” Jerusha said. “Just try to rest, and I’ll be right back.”
Jerusha went out into the living room. She had a troubled look on her face, and Reuben noticed it right away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Jenna has a fever and a bad headache. I’m going to boil honey and apple cider vinegar and have her inhale it. That should help her headache.”
Jerusha went into the kitchen and prepared the remedy. She took it into Jenna’s room in a bowl and had her daughter put a towel over her head and inhale the steam. The girl lay back down in the bed.
That night Jerusha heard Jenna crying again. She went in to her room and was dismayed to find a reddish rash on Jenna’s face and arms. She brought a cool damp cloth from the kitchen and placed it on Jenna’s feverish brow. Suddenly the little girl vomited.
“Mama, I feel bad and I can’t move my neck,” Jenna said weakly.
Jerusha began to feel real alarm as she cleaned the girl up. She went in and awakened Reuben. “Jenna is very sick,” she said. “We must do something. She has a rash and a high fever, and she just vomited.”
“We should go for the healer,” Reuben said. “I will go fetch her.”
Reuben got dressed and left while Jerusha stayed at Jenna’s side and placed cold cloths on her brow to bring the fever down. Jerusha had been healthy all her life and had never needed the healer, but she had witnessed the woman’s abilities when her grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. Her grandmother had rallied and lived for se
veral more months as the healer offered her natural remedies that compared favorably with the doctors’ more expensive prescriptions. When her grandmother’s cancer returned, the healer was called in a second time, and this time the grandmother died. The healer simply accepted her death as God’s will, as did the family.
Now Jerusha sat by her little girl, and a great fear rose up in her heart. What if it is Your will that my little girl does not get well? Do I have enough faith for my little girl’s healing?
The questions began to flood her mind, and she began to weep as she prayed, “Please, God, don’t take my little girl. She is everything to me.”
After about half an hour, Reuben returned with Anita Bausher, the healer who had treated her grandmother. Anita was highly respected in the community.
As she came to Jenna’s bedside, she opened a cloth satchel she carried with her. “She has vomited?”
“Yes,” replied Jerusha, “and she has a terrible headache. Her eyes are sensitive to light.”
“Do you believe that God can heal your child?”
“Yes,” said Reuben without waiting for Jerusha’s reply. “We will trust God and follow the ordnung. God will heal our daughter.”
Anita opened Jenna’s nightgown and began to massage her, all the while whispering words or perhaps prayers that Jerusha couldn’t make out. She worked her way down Jenna’s body and then returned to her head and started again. After repeating the ritual three times, she reached in her bag and pulled out some small paper bags with herbs in them.
“Steep these as tea after mixing them together in equal parts,” she said. “Give them to her every hour. Now let’s pray.”
Anita took Reuben and Jerusha’s hands and began to pray aloud, asking God to heal Jenna. The three of them agreed together, and then Anita packed her bag and left.
Reuben placed his arm around Jerusha’s shoulders. “God will heal our daughter. We are faithful to His laws and have always done what He has told us to do.”
“But what if she needs something more than these herbs and a massage?” Jerusha asked. “What if she needs a doctor?”
“I don’t trust worldly knowledge,” Reuben said. “I saw what Englisch doctors can do during the war. We will not go to the world for what our God can provide. We have kept God’s ways. He will keep us.”
“But—”
“Don’t you see, Jerusha? The world is filled with death and madness. Here we have goodness and holiness. The Englisch take their science to be an absolute. We turn to God, the church, and our faith before making medical decisions. He is our absolute. We will not turn to Englisch medicine.”
“But, Reuben, she is so sick,” Jerusha said, fairly pleading.
“That’s enough!” Reuben snapped. “We will do as the healer has said.”
Jerusha stared at Reuben and saw the same angry, anxious look she had seen before. She also saw that Reuben was wrong. He had become so afraid of life, so protected by his obedience to the ordnung, that he would risk his daughter’s life to be right.
Jerusha didn’t know what to do. There must be something. She had to get help for Jenna. She prayed, “God, if You love Jenna as we do, You must bring help!”
Jerusha sat up with Jenna the rest of the night. The small pinprick rash began to turn into reddish blotches on Jenna’s skin. At one point the little girl awoke and looked at Jerusha.
“Where are we, Mama?” she asked. “Are we still at home? Is it time to get up?”
Jerusha held her hand and brushed the wet hair away from her forehead. All through the night she stayed with Jenna, praying and bathing her feverish brow. By dawn Jenna had become listless and unresponsive.
Reuben rose early and left to tend the animals. Jerusha had become desperate. Just then she heard the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house. Bobby! Jerusha ran to the door and pulled Bobby inside before he could even knock. He saw her face and immediately knew something was wrong.
“What is it, Jerusha?”
“It’s Jenna!” she cried. “She’s so sick, and Reuben won’t let me take her to a doctor. He says that our ways will heal her, but she’s getting worse.”
“Let me see her,” Bobby said.
Jerusha led the way to Jenna’s room. Bobby looked at the reddish blotches on Jenna’s skin and felt her forehead. It was burning with fever. Jenna lay still and unresponsive in the bed.
“Has she vomited? Does she have a stiff neck? Were these blotches like pinpricks before they got this big?”
Jerusha nodded.
Bobby got up from beside the bed. “Jerusha, listen to me and listen good. Jenna probably has meningitis. I’ve seen it before. My cousin died from this. The red patches mean she has septicemia—blood poisoning caused by the same bacteria. The only thing that can help her is massive doses of antibiotics. We’ve got to get her to the hospital.”
Without waiting for an answer, Bobby rolled Jenna up in her blanket, picked her up, and started for the door. Suddenly the door opened, and Reuben walked in. He stopped and stared in surprise at Bobby.
“Bobby! I saw your car and...what are you doing with Jenna?”
“Reuben, your little girl is desperately sick. She has to get to a hospital now.”
“You will not take Jenna to the Englisch doctor. If anything will kill her, that will.”
“Reuben, I’m taking this child to the hospital,” said Bobby. “She’s dying. If you want to stop me, you will have to kill me.”
Reuben recoiled from Bobby as though he had been kicked. A look of sheer terror came across his face. “But God will heal her. He must—we’ve been faithful...”
“Reuben, get out of my way.”
Reuben stepped aside, and Bobby pushed through the door with Jenna in his arms. Jerusha stared at Reuben and then grabbed her coat and boots and went after Bobby.
Reuben stood in the middle of the room and stared after them. His lips worked soundlessly and his body began to tremble. The night of the battle in the jungle began to replay in his mind. He saw the terrified faces of the Japanese soldiers as he raged among them. He saw Sarge writhing in agony, his arm blown off. He felt the pain of the bayonets and the shock of a bullet hitting him. Suddenly he collapsed to the floor wailing.
“But, God, I’ve been faithful...”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Goodbye, My Darling Girl
THE FIRE WAS DYING DOWN, and the wood was nearly gone. Instinctively, Jerusha pulled the girl close to her.
I held my Jenna close to me, just like this, on the day Bobby took us to the hospital. I could feel her burning with fever. I prayed so hard, but You didn’t answer my prayers.
“I sent Bobby.”
Jerusha spoke out loud.
“Ja, but you didn’t save Jenna!”
“She is safe with Me and saved from a broken world. That is enough. Jenna is Mine. She has always been Mine. I gave her to you for a season to bless you and to teach you. Now there is more to learn. But there is still a root of bitterness that keeps your heart locked against Me. I have healed your pain and your anger. Now I want you to forgive as I have forgiven you. I want you to look deep into your heart. I want you to see.”
Jerusha cried out, “Please, please don’t make me remember! I can’t bear it! Oh, Jenna!”
As she sobbed, the little girl awoke. Her tiny hand stole to Jerusha’s face. “Don’t cry,” she said softly. “Please don’t cry.”
A feeling of peace crept over Jerusha like warmth from a fire, and she felt herself relax. A strange but familiar sensation came over her as if she were falling off a high precipice, and then, in the midst of the fall, she felt herself lifted up on wings of eagles.
Jerusha surrendered. “Do what You must,” she said aloud.
And then the memory of that day came to her.
Bobby drove like a madman down the highway into Wooster. He pulled up in front of the hospital and grabbed Jenna.
“Come on, Jerusha,” he cried.
Jerusha jumped
out of the car and followed Bobby. He was already through the doors when Jerusha caught up with him. A nurse met them and started to explain hospital protocol.
Bobby interrupted her, “Get me a doctor, quick! This little girl is dying!”
The nurse quickly ran to the desk and summoned a doctor on the intercom. Quickly, a white-haired man with a puzzled expression on his face ran down the hall.
“I’m Dr. Schaeffer,” he said. “What seems to be the trouble?”
Bobby opened the blanket and showed Jenna to the doctor and said, “I think she has meningitis.”
The doctor’s eyes took in the reddish blotches and he said, “Vomiting? Stiff neck? High fever?”
Jerusha nodded to each question.
“Nurse,” the doctor bellowed, “get this girl into the ICU immediately. Put a drip of benzylpenicillin in her and prep her. Get her ready to do a lumbar puncture. I need a sample of cerebrospinal fluid as quickly as possible.”
“Doctor, is she going to be all right?” asked Jerusha.
“I can’t tell you, ma’am,” the doctor said bluntly. “She’s a very sick child. She should have been here two days ago.” He turned on his heel and followed the nurse and Jenna into the intensive care unit.
The hours that followed were a blur. The staff rushed Jenna into the critical care unit and put a penicillin drip into her arm.
“This child is very, very sick,” Dr. Schaeffer told her sternly. “I’m doing all I can for her, but I could have done more had she been here sooner. Why you Amish don’t trust in modern medicine I’ll never know.”
“Can I see her, Doctor?” Jerusha asked.
“Yes, but she’s not conscious,” said the doctor. “If she doesn’t improve, we will most likely have to ventilate her.”
A Quilt for Jenna Page 19
