Smicksburg Tales 1,2 & 3 (Amish Knitting Circle, Amish Friends Knitting Circle & Amish Knit Lit Cirlce ~ Complete Series: 888 pages for Granny Weaver Lovers and 30+ Amish Recipes

by Karen Anna Vogel

  Lord, I give my knitting friends to you. Ruth said she was trusting God to knit her heart together with Luke’s but it would take lots of time. Help them. And I give my fretting to you about Maryann. It was hard to see her so sick, but she’s so relieved to have a lumpectomy and said it was all worth it. But still Lord, it’s hard to see a friend suffer. Help her Lord….I give all my loved ones to you. Help Ella feel like the real mamm of the twins and give her rest. I’ve known that girl since birth and she’s always had a cheerful nature. Restore joy to her troubled heart.

  Amen….for now.

  ~*~

  Here is an Amish birthday cake recipe.

  Amish Birthday Cake

  2 ½ c. flour

  2 ½ tsp. baking powder

  ¾ tsp. salt

  2/3 c. oil

  ¾ c. milk

  2 Tbsp. lemon juice

  2 tsp. grated lemon peel

  3 eggs

  1 ½ c. sugar

  Sift first three dry ingredients. Add oil, milk, lemon juice and peel. Beat until it forms a smooth batter. In a separate bowl, beat eggs until thick and foamy. Gradually add some sugar, continue beating until well blended. Fold in eggs and rest of sugar thoroughly into batter. Pour into two waxed paper-lined 9 inch round pans. Bake at 375 degrees for 25-30 minutes.

  Amish Cream Cheese Icing

  1 package cream cheese (8 oz.)

  2/3rd c. sugar

  1 tsp. vanilla

  Pinch of salt

  2 c. Cool Whip

  Beat cream cheese, sugar, vanilla and salt until fluffy, and then fold in Cool Whip.

  Episode 9

  Spun Together

  Fannie gazed intricate carving on the new clock Melvin made, and then walked across the shop to the plainer, straight-cut ones. She no longer felt plain and fat, but like something beautiful that was designed by God. All the encouragement from the knitting circle and Melvin had made her see herself more clearly. The scriptures that were now deep in her heart were like a mirror, too, so she could see who she really was, fearfully and wonderfully made.

  She heard footsteps and she turned to see Melvin come out of the workshop and into the little clock shop. But he didn’t look too happy. “What’s wrong?”

  Melvin sat on the stool behind the counter, gazing straight ahead as if not hearing her.

  “Melvin, are you sick? You look so pale.”

  He slowly turned to her. “We need to talk.”

  She looked into his eyes, and didn’t see love. She knew it wouldn’t last. He wanted to break off their engagement. She’d seen him go over to Lizzie’s more than normal. He’d fallen for her again. How would she endure this? “Like I said, Melvin, what’s wrong?” She slowly walked over to the counter to face her fate.

  He cocked his head forward. “I don’t know how to say this?”

  “I know. I can see it in your face. You proposed, but I want you happy, Melvin.”

  A slight grin pulled at one side of his mouth. “Fannie. Come back here and give me a hug. I wouldn’t marry anyone but you.”

  Thank you Lord! She scurried around the counter and wrapped her arms around Melvin. “So what’s the matter? Something is awfully wrong.”

  “Daed just told me something that will change everything. You know how the Coblenz’s are moving up to Marathon, New York? Daed’s been talking to them and is looking into moving up too. The farm next to theirs is for sale at a goot price.”

  Fannie dug her fingers into Melvin’s black vest. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. Just walked out here. I’m shocked.” He took her hands. “Could you see living in New York?”

  Fannie wanted to burst into tears. She had so many nieces and nephews, and her sister was expecting. She always imagined her kinner playing with relatives…here in Smicksburg. She thought of Granny who was more of a mamm to her than her own, having the time to talk. But a wife was supposed to be supportive of her husband. She ran her fingers through Melvin’s hair. “Wherever you go, I will follow. In the Bible, Ruth said that to Naomi. How much more should a wife say that to her future husband?”

  Melvin put his hand on her cheek. “You’re such a peach. But I love this clock shop. Wood is in my veins, not dairy farming. Daed will need to sell this house to move. “He got up and walked around the shop, hands in his pockets, looking at all the clocks. “I could make clocks in New York.”

  “Would you have time? How many cows would you have? And would you hand milk them?”

  “Jah, no diesel-fueled milking machines are allowed. Would give me so little time to carve.”

  Fannie knew Melvin’s ability to carve was a gift from God and something he took pleasure in. His Daed did cut the wood, but it was Melvin who actually made the clocks. “When do you have to decide?”

  “That’s another thing that bothers me. Daed said as soon as our place sold, as if he had someone interested. It’s not like him at all. He’s so steady a man.”

  “He must really want the farm in New York, jah?”

  Melvin sighed deeply. “Jah.”

  ~*~

  Ruth took Luke’s hand from across the table, and bowed her head.

  Our Father, which art in heaven,

  Hallowed be thy Name.

  Thy Kingdom come.

  Thy will be done in earth,

  As it is in heaven.

  Give us this day our daily bread.

  And forgive us our trespasses,

  As we forgive them that trespass against us.

  And lead us not into temptation,

  But deliver us from evil.

  For thine is the kingdom,

  The power, and the glory,

  For ever and ever.

  Amen.

  Luke held her hand tighter after he said the prayer, but she pulled away. They’d had daily reading of the Psalms and now saying the Lord’s Prayer three times a day, but she still had a wounded heart. Luke still slept in Mica’s room and no matter what he said, she felt like he was being deceitful. Would this ever change? Would she ever be able to trust him again?

  “I keep thinking about the baptisms that took place on New Birth Sunday,” Luke said, and then shoved a spoonful of homemade granola into his mouth. “This is goot.”

  “Danki. Made it all from oatmeal and whatnot. Whatever’s on hand. Funny how things make a better flavor mixed together.”

  “Like our Gmay. Lots of different people you wouldn’t think would blend together, but we do…”

  Yes, she knew! Unity, the submitting of ones own demands for survival and health of their Gmay. Jah, lots of blending together was required…

  New Birth Sunday was the beginning of the annual five week cleansing time before Easter. A cleanse to rid unforgivness among the People. Baptisms had taken place this past Sunday, and now there was a week off to think about any unforgiveness. The third week was their committee meeting, where the Ordnung was reviewed and any changes came up for the vote and then another week off, before Easter.

  How she loved Easter, when communion was celebrated and washing each other’s feet, a sign that they were all servants to each other. But this year was different. She saw people having reconciliation dinners to extend forgiveness. Here she was eating with Luke every day with still only a drop of love and forgiveness. She poked the green beans with her fork. “Luke, I know the Easter season is a time of renewal, but my heart still feels old and worn out. I’m sorry, but I have to be honest.”

  He slowly looked up. “It’s been over two months and you feel nothing for me?”

  Ruth cringed. Was he going to lose his temper? Yell at her? She watched in astonishment as tears formed in his eyes, and he got up from the table and walked into the living room. She quickly got up and poured more milk into Micah’s Sippy cup and put it on his highchair tray. “Now you eat while Mamm talks to Daed.” She kissed the top of his head and made her way into the living room.

  She was not prepared for what she witnessed; Luke was sobbing, head in his hands, bent ove
r on the bench. She ran over and put her arm around him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be harsh. Just honest.”

  He choked back tears. “I’m so stupid.”

  “What?”

  “I should have never looked at my uncle’s girly books.” He clenched his fists and hit his knees.

  “Luke, you were ten. Only three years older than Roman’s Jenny.” The thought shocked her as she spoke them. He was only three years older than Jenny when his uncle exposed him to pornography? Stacks of magazines hidden in the barn had planted thoughts in Luke’s mind. Thoughts like women weren’t respectable, only objects of lust…but he was ten.

  “I’m not normal. Maybe I should be in Torrance.”

  “Luke, that’s absurd. It’s a psychiatric hospital. The doctor said you have a mild form of anxiety, not something serious. Remember what the doctor said; diabetics need insulin and your body needs other things? Do you think diabetics aren’t normal? Or Jeb, for taking heart medicine?

  “But they act normal…”

  Ruth got up and went over to the desk, and pulled a sheet of paper out of the bottom drawer. “I was over at Maryann’s when Marge was there, the nurse who’s buying the farm down the road from Granny. She started to act real irritated and her hands got shaky, so she took a sugar pill and sucked on it. Said she had low blood sugar, or hypoglycemia. Marge confessed she has lots of mood swings, so I asked her for more information. She gave me this.”

  Luke took the paper from Ruth’s hand. “What’s this got to do with me? A sugar pill isn’t medicine.”

  “Read the list, Luke.”

  He read through the list, and then looked at her in amazement. “Fatigue, uneasiness, possible aggression, headaches, trembling. Ach, I had all these.”

  “I’m not saying you have low blood sugar, but emotional problems happen with other things too, like low sugar.” She took Luke by the shoulders. “You’re not crazy, understand?”

  “But I have almost every symptom on this list,” he said as he turned to scan the paper again.

  “Well, you can’t stop taking your medicine, but we could ask the psychologist about it at our next appointment.”

  Luke hunched over, as in defeat. “It’s so embarrassing seeing a psychologist.”

  Ruth felt compassion well up and reached for Luke’s hand. “The doctor made me understand you have a physical problem. Luke, you’re not crazy.” She put her head on his shoulder. “What’s the difference between you taking medicine and me taking all those herbs once a month for PMS? I’ll admit, I acted crazy before Dan put me on something.”

  “But you’re on herbs, not a medicine…”

  “Herbs have chemicals in them though. Medicine’s made of chemicals, jah? And remember, you have mild anxiety. The doctor told you how many millions of people take medicine for it.”

  Luke lowered his head again. “I’m just ashamed. Such a weak man.”

  Ruth looked at their interlocked hands. She didn’t know the torment he felt inside until now. Being too focused on her own hurt feelings had made her blind to see his pain. For over two months she had to admit, she’d started to feel a trickle of love toward him, but stopped up the flow; it was like she was erecting a fortress around her heart.

  “Luke?”

  He looked up at her. “Jah?”

  “I think I still love you.”

  “What?”

  “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t care so much. I’m just afraid if I give an inch you’ll –“

  Luke leaned toward her and tenderly kissed her. “I haven’t heard you say you loved me in so long.”

  Tears streamed down his cheeks, and she took a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped them. It was a sweet kiss, not unfeeling, like in the past. But would this new man stay sweet if she gave more than an inch? She looked at Luke’s blue eyes, hopeful she’d return his affection, but she quickly got up to tend to little Micah…

  ~*~

  Roman talked to Jonas as Lizzie ran out to get the mail. Buds were on the trees and he hoped spring would bring fresh changes to her life.

  When Lizzie reappeared, she sifted through the mail. “So much junk mail. Well, goot to start fires with.” She held up a letter. “Another letter from Amos.” She plunked herself down in a rocker. “He’s apologized enough, really.”

  Roman knew Amos felt he was in culture shock while in Smicksburg. He was also worried about his kinner, since he never left them for four days. Lizzie said she needed time to sort through her feelings, but it was more painful than Roman thought. He loved her and wanted to court her again. She was learning to trust, thanks to his girls and their weekly dinners. Child-like trust was rubbing off on Lizzie; it showed in her countenance. Every day she was turning into her old carefree self, the Lizzie before the assault so many years ago.

  His eyes met with Jonas’. “I need a nap. Nice seeing you, Roman.” He slowly got up and made his way out of the room.

  “Lizzie, it doesn’t get dark until six now. Want to take a walk in Smicksburg Park before knitting circle?” Roman asked.

  She looked up from the letter and grinned. “I have a kite put together already to fly.”

  Roman remembered how much Lizzie looked forward to March, kite flying time.

  “I haven’t flown a kite in eleven years,” she said, triumphantly. “I’m learning to live again. Do the things I love.”

  “Is that a sign the grieving is over?”

  “It’s a step forward. Let me get my wraps and kite and we can head out.”

  Roman almost skipped out to the store and to the buggy. Thank you God! Lizzie is coming back! Now give me the words, and the courage.

  Lizzie came out of the shop with a kite that had butterflies on it. Roman smiled at her. “Nice kite. The girls would like one.”

  “We have plenty in the store. I’ll give them one.”

  When she started to walk to the buggy she started to slip on the mud, but found her footing. He offered his hand into the buggy and pulled her in. “Too warm for a buggy robe, don’t you think?”

  “Well, it’s a bit nippy.”

  Roman pulled up the buggy robe. “Let’s go.” He pulled out and headed toward Old Smicksburg Park. How many times had they played hide and seek, even in their late teens, hiding behind those massive trees. “Remember when we played hide and seek at the park and you climbed the tree and you never found me?”

  “Jah, I do. My laugh was the only thing that gave me away, after you looked for over an hour.”

  “It wasn’t an hour, as I recall.”

  “You need to take the girls over to the park more. Why don’t you?”

  Roman knew the girls would love the park, but memories of Lizzie always came to the surface there, and the guilt that followed. When Abby was alive, she didn’t see the need to go to the park, having a swing set in the backyard. He took Lizzie’s hand. “We can bring the girls sometime.”

  Lizzie didn’t say anything, just looked around at the beauty of early spring. “Daed said he heard peeper frogs the other night.”

  “So early?”

  “Jah. Spring’s coming on mighty fast. Next month we’ll be putting in snow peas. Well, at least I will.”

  Roman couldn’t help but notice the drop in Lizzie’s tone. “What’s wrong?”

  “Daed’s MS. The doctor thinks he might be having some kind of relapse. I’ll be planting the garden alone.”

  “I can help,” Roman said, squeezing her hand. “You know I’m here for you.”

  She put her head on his shoulder. “I know. Danki.”

  Lizzie had always put her head on his shoulder when she was stressed. He remembered when her daed was diagnosed with MS, and times he’d just hold her and not say anything. It was what she wanted; what she needed. He leaned his head on hers and she didn’t pull away.

  They drove in silence for the next few minutes and then pulled into the park. Like a kid, she pulled down the buggy robe, grabbed her kite, and started for the vast open field. He jumped o
ut of the buggy and took the horse’s reins and looped them to the hitching post. He ran to catch up and walked swiftly beside her. She was headed to the area they’d always gone when courting. She could have gone to other spots in the park. Was she doing this out of habit or desire to recapture the past?

  She told Roman to hold the kite while she ran with the string. When she signaled, he’d let it go. He nodded and she ran and then looked at him and waved her hand. He let go of the kite and it soared into the air. Roman ran toward her and watched as she giggled, letting out string and watching the kite lift higher.

  She looked over at Roman and smiled. “Remember all the kites I lost because you always got them tangled in the trees?”

  “That’s because I let the kite go higher than a rooftop.” He gave her a wry smile.

  “I can make a kite go high too…”

  Roman watched as she looked up at the sky. God was healing her; it was so evident in her countenance. But like his daed said, she needed time. Move in pace with nature, Son. He looked at Lizzie like a flower that just needed a lot of sunshine to open up. He was pleased with the progress over the past few weeks, but she still hadn’t said if she’d court him again.

  Should he let his impatient, impulsive self- rule, or was it natural to want to know by now? The thought of Amos still writing made him insecure. He was confused, and the Good Book said God wasn’t the author of confusion.

  Lizzie came near him and took his hand. “Now you fly the kite. Make it go as high as you want.”

  Roman took the spool of string and smirked. “Now we’ll see some real kite flying.” He loosened the string and soon the kite jutted into the air. It was windier than he thought. The kite headed over to the trees across the field and he struggled to pull it back in, but it started to nose-dive. He ran back and the kite escaped the trees as he let out more string. As he started to wind up the string to even the kite, it fiercely resisted. His jaw dropped when the string broke and the kite helplessly soared into the trees.