A new sense of purpose bubbled in her, quite by surprise, and she knew, that she was going to be alright. Yes, there would be days ahead filled with sadness and loss, but she’d only dive further into her God-given gift: knitting.
~*~
Granny felt warmth nuzzle up against her back, and she was thankful for the cold nights. Jeb snuggled up against her and it was her favorite spot on earth: to be in Jeb’s arms. Then a bark pierced into her head, and she whipped around to see the little black dog, right next to her on the bed. “Ach, Jeb, you held her all night? On the bed?”
Jeb scooped the dog up in one arm. “She was crying in the middle of the night. Didn’t you hear?”
“Nee. And I don’t want a dog on the bed, of all things.” She picked up some stray fur that lay on her white sheets. “Fur, everywhere.”
“You can spin it, jah? A reason to keep her?”
Granny tried to look at Jeb sternly, but couldn’t, and let out a laugh. “It’s you who wants to keep her, Old Man.”
Jeb snickered. “That I am. A very old man who wants to see his old woman have a companion.”
She shook her head. “You think I’m lonely?”
“I think you like to hold something soft, like yarn. It’s goot for your nerves. And when your nerves are goot, my nerves are goot.”
Granny squinted. “What? Jebediah Weaver, what’s come over you?”
He chuckled. “Maybe Bea is goot for my nerves. My bones don’t seem to ache this morning.”
“Bea? Good for your arthritis? So cuddling with a dog at night is better than snuggling with me?”
Jeb kissed Bea on the head. “I think she’s come between us, Deborah. But look at those big, brown eyes. She needs love.”
Granny got out of bed, slid her slippers on and took her robe off the pegboard, and wrapped it around her. “I’m going to the phone shanty and calling the doctor. You need to get your head examined.”
“Ach, Love, why don’t you admit you’re happy. Glad that I want to keep her? Like Lizzie’s keeping that rabbit of hers?”
She looped her long gray hair around the back of her head and started to pin it up. “She’s sleeping on the floor, though. Don’t want Little Bea coming between us, jah?”
Granny gave Jeb a knowing look, and he put the dog on the floor, and stretched his arms out to her. “Come, Deborah. It’s too early to get up.”
She could never resist being held by Jeb, so she was immediately drawn into his arms. She could hear his heart beating, and he started to unpin her hair. Granny closed her eyes, taking in the rich, deep love they shared, but soon a sharp bark broke the dreamlike moment. Bea was back on the bed, again, trying to squeeze in-between them, and to her surprise, she felt Jeb’s body start to jiggle; he was laughing…and soon she was too.
~*~
Lizzie cuddled the rabbit, glad to have something warm to hold on this cold autumn morning. The pitter-patter of feet coming down the steps, mixed with the scent of coffee, pancakes and sticky buns made her realize something. She was blessed. Even though she wasn’t pregnant, and was sometimes hopeless about the prospect, she had Roman and the girls. And her daed was happily adjusted in the little dawdyhaus attached to the house….
“Guder mariyer, Mamm,” Tillie said as she hugged Lizzie’s middle.
“Guder mariyer, honey.” She looked over at Jenny and Millie, already sitting at the oak table. “Are you girls hungry?”
“Jah, I am,” Millie said. “And I can’t wait to play with Oma’s new dog, so I’ll eat fast.”
Lizzie put the rabbit down, and put the breakfast, along with a pitcher full of apple cider, on the table. “What about Petunia? Have you forgotten your rabbit so quickly? She still needs help being litter trained.”
Tillie pet Petunia’s head. “I’ll help her.”
“Opa says that keeping a rabbit in the house is silly,” Jenny said before taking a bite of her pancake. “But now he’s keeping a dog in the house.”
Lizzie heard Jack bark outside, announcing that a visitor had arrived. She pulled back the white curtain to see Ella get out of her buggy. She must need help packing. Knowing that Granny and Jeb were always overdoing it for their ages, she took her shawl off the peg, and ran out on the porch. “Ella, come in and have breakfast with us.”
A smile slid across Ella’s face as she made her way over to embrace Lizzie. “I came to talk to Granny.”
“I can help. The knitting circle should have had a work frolic, let the English know how they’re done.”
Ella stood up on her tip-toes and cupped her hands over her cheeks. “I could just burst from happiness, and I wanted to tell Granny before tonight at circle. She’s going to cry; I know it.”
Lizzie tilted her head to the side. “She knows you’re moving, and has shed her tears. She’s happy for you now. Why would she cry?”
“I’m pregnant!” Ella blurted.
“What? How?”
Ella swiped some stray red and yellow leaves off a rocker, and took a seat. “The doctor in town said it happens sometimes. When a couple adopts, the woman finds she can bear kinner. I don’t know why, but, Lizzie, I’m ever so happy.”
“I’m so surprised. So happy for you.” She bent down to embrace Ella, and then took a seat in the other rocker.
Ella took her hand. “It will happen for you, too, Lizzie. I’m sure of it.”
Lizzie had shared with Ella her struggle with feeling barren, since she could relate. And here was Ella pregnant and she felt no envy or sadness. She had kinner. She was a mamm, and who knew, maybe the girls would make her be able to get pregnant. Lizzie squeezed Ella’s hand, not wanting her friend to move more than ever. “It’s all in God’s hands, but how will we see your boppli grow up? No pictures and all….”
Ella sighed. “I know. There are things I’d like to change, pictures being one. But it’s not worth it to lose what we have in being Amish, jah?”
“Jah, for sure. How does Zach feel about the news? Moving and having a boppli with no relations around.”
Ella looked off into the distant field. “Zach’s mighty happy. And I keep thinking about the saying, ‘bloom where you’re planted’. I think there’s lots of truth in that.”
“Jah, me too,” Lizzie agreed. “It may take time to bloom, though. Remember the problems I had with Jenny. Sometimes I wanted to give up, but when we dig in the Bible, being rooted in Christ, like it says, we….eventually bloom.”
Ella slowly turned towards Lizzie. “Danki, for that. I am afraid, truth be told. I fear a long winter season is coming.”
“Well, you’re moving to the heart of the Snowbelt, jah?”
Ella smiled. “Jah, and I was thinking, as part of adapting and ‘blooming” in the land of snow, I’d make the most of the long winters, and start a knitting circle, or join one.”
Lizzie admired Ella’s optimism. “That’s a wunderbar goot idea. And maybe we can share patterns, back and forth with your circle. Ach, Ella, I think East Otto needs a sunny person like you.”
They both stood up and embraced. “I love you, Ella. Write often.”
Ella clung to Lizzie like never before. “You have my word.”
They soon heard Granny call from her porch. She wanted Ella to come over for a visit, and Ella ran like a deer over to her, embracing her, and telling her the good news. Lizzie was still amazed that she felt not one ounce of envy, or the need to run and cry, like when she heard that Fannie and Ruth were pregnant. No, she had all she wanted with a loving husband and her three girls. She was content.
~*~
Jonas looked up at the swiftly moving clouds, a sure sign that autumn had come, and he said a prayer of thanks. This was his last Amish camp, and he didn’t reckon he’d do it again. Too many spats between the English; he wondered if it was a hobby of sorts. To agree and make peace, like he’d done in the spring concerning glass enclosed buggies, was a distant memory. Why did the English not talk things out? Although sparks flew at some of the Amish meeti
ngs, in the end, they agreed and walked in unity as best they could.
Jack barked, signaling the bus was ready to pull into the driveway. How that dog could hear things from afar was a wonder. So was Deborah and Jeb’s new fascination with the little black dog. Sleeping on their bed? Lecherlich. At least his Lizzie had the sense God gave geese, insisting the rabbit not sleep with Tillie.
The bus came to a stop, and Jonas immediately missed Jenny sitting by his side. Kinner had a way of seeing things from a purer angle, and broke any tension. But the girls were busy enjoying the apple butter frolic. Jonas noticed that some of the people filling the benches were wearing red, white, and blue, some wearing pins with elephants and donkeys, and it dawned on him, the presidential election was next week. His stomach flipped; he hoped they didn’t ask him political questions.
Janice and Jerry sat in the front row. Janice was radiant again, and Jonas couldn’t help but smile. How nice to have the company of a companion; he’d cherished his wife’s memory always.
Jerry got up and introduced Jonas, and then asked that hands be raised for questions. A girl with blond hair and blue streaks raised her hand first, and Jonas nodded. “How do the Amish take a bath, with no bathroom?”
He tried to stifle nervous laughter. What an odd question. “Well, we have a large round tub we fill up with water. Makes you clean as a whistle.”
The girl’s mouth gaped open. “You don’t have a shower?”
“A shower? What do you mean?”
“It’s like….a…..place to stand and water falls on you.”
Jonas had always used the washtub, but Lizzie did use a shower of sorts. “My daughter has a bucket with little holes on the bottom. She fills it with water and works similar to a sprinkling can.”
“A sprinkling can?”
Jerry ran up on the porch where a watering can sat. “Here’s one.”
“Jah, danki, Jerry. The water comes and sprinkles a body.”
The girl’s mouth hung open again. “Do all Amish live like this?”
Jonas hadn’t known any other way of bathing, so he looked to Janice for help. She stood up. “Jerry and I have been to other Amish settlements. Some have bathrooms, just like we do. Every group of around two-hundred is a church district and they have their own rules.”
An elderly woman raised her hand. “But if they don’t have electricity, how do they get their water?”
“Gravity-fed,” Jerry said. “Some Amish around here have gravity-fed water to their sinks.”
Jonas felt humiliated to be asked how he bathed, and hoped the next question would soon come, but the elderly woman continued. Her eyes misted over, and she seemed to hover in a dream-like state. “I’m almost ninety, and lived through a time when there were no modern conveniences. We all shared the same wash tub. No electricity during the Great Depression and sometimes, I wish it was never invented.”
The crowd murmured to a din. Jerry stood up and asked that the lady be able to talk. She thanked him, and continued. “We lived like the Amish really, and folks had time for each other, since there was little to do. We made up our own fun. Cutting paper dolls, playing board games, reading a book out loud around the woodstove; we were poor, but when I look back, we were mighty rich.”
The crowd was silent. Only the rustling of leaves falling off the trees could be heard or laundry flapping in the wind.
A middle-aged woman raised her hand. “I agree that we have too much today; we barely know each other. Can anyone be Amish?”
Jonas cleared his throat. “You mean live off-the-grid?”
“Yes…”
“Well, some people try, but it’s mighty hard once you’re used to living with all the fancy gadgets. Why not just cut back a little at a time? Read by candle-light. There’s something soothing in the glow of a candle.”
The woman grinned. “Thank you. I think I’ll do that. Maybe have one day a week for no television.”
“Sounds like a goot plan,” Jonas said with a smile. He could tell the woman was struggling, wanting a peaceful home. It appeared her kinner were sitting next to her and they were now scowling and rolling their eyes.
A man with a little flag in his hat raised his hand. “Do the Amish vote? And if they do, are they Republican or Democrat?”
Jonas took in a deep breath, getting ready for a confrontation. “We vote if we feel the need.”
“Feel the need? What do you mean?”
“Well, the politicians come around and tell us the issues. If it’s something that we know will affect us, we vote. But other than that, we’re not political.”
“You know the Bush Tax cuts will be dropped soon. How do you feel about that? No more stimulus checks.”
“We don’t cash them.”
“What?” the whole crowd said in a rumble.
“We have separation of church and state, jah? So it goes both ways. They keep out of our business and we don’t profit from them.”
A lady shot up. “Don’t you pay taxes?”
Jonas nodded. “Jah, and it’s a lot of money. We pay local school taxes, even though our kinner go to Amish schools that we pay for, too. Then we have property tax.”
The lady was still standing, wanting to challenge. “Well, I’d just put the money from the stimulus check towards my taxes if I were you…”
“If you were me, you’d have to follow what the church decides. We move as one.”
“Are you serious?” she gasped. “You’re not free to choose?”
“I have the freedom to not have to make big decisions by myself. I have the counsel of many, and there’s safety in it.”
Her eyes softened. “Aw. It’s like the Waltons. They’d disagree on things, but always came into family harmony…”
“Well,” Jonas said. “I don’t know the Waltons, but they sound like sensible people.”
A roar echoed through the crowd that made Jonas cringe. Were they laughing at him?
He looked at Janice, who could read his mind. She shot up. “Now, now. Jonas doesn’t watch television, so he doesn’t know who the Waltons are. Like people in many countries, there is no television in the Amish home.” She walked over to Jonas. “You look tired. How about we see the apple butter demonstration now.”
“Danki, Janice. Lizzie and the others are down by Jeb’s fishing hole. The copper kettle is hot, so don’t let people get too close, and only one jar per family.” He winked. “I need my own apple butter on warm toast in the winter.”
Janice flashed a smile, and directed the crowd away. Jonas looked back up into the clouds. Danki, Lord. It’s over!
~*~
Granny stirred the large copper pot with the wooden paddle, worn out to the bone by hard work and the questions the English asked. But she felt a pride, in a good way, for knowing the art of canning, and kept thinking of her mamm. She was ever so patient with her, showing her how to wipe the rim of the jar until dry, so the rubber ring would seal properly.
She looked over at Fannie, shoulders down, as usual when around her mamm. Mona’s negative comments had made Granny want to speak-up, right in front of everyone at the frolic, but she held her tongue. But she did add a word of praise towards something Fannie did right, for every harmful word Mona spoke. Why did she always compare Fannie to Eliza? No wonder Fannie still struggled with comparing herself. Granny thought of the familiar proverb, 'The kind of ancestors you have is not as important as the ones your children have.' She decided right there and then that she’d be the loving oma the little boppli Fannie carried would most likely not get in Mona.
She walked over to Fannie and put her arm around her. “Danki for the help. How many jars of apple butter do we have?”
Fannie wiped her forehead. “I’d say over two-hundred.”
Granny steered her away from Mona, who was helping clean the copper pot. “Fannie, you are fearfully and wonderfully made, jah?”
Fannie looked at her, puzzled. “What?”
“I just wanted to remind you of that. Se
ems to me like you needed to hear it.”
“Why?”
“Because, well, your mamm seemed to be making comments to the contrary.”
Fannie stopped in mid-stride. “I didn’t notice…”
Granny pat her on the back. “Maybe I’m a little protective of you. Wasn’t my place to say anything.”
Fannie gripped her middle. “I felt the baby again.” She turned to Granny and smiled, but then her face contorted. “Is it normal to have so much movement at five months?”
“Jah, better than no movement.” Granny thought of her still-born daughter, and quickly shot a prayer of thanks that the little one was in the arms of Jesus.
“What if I have twins?” Fannie’s voice was low and even.
“Well, you’d be blessed indeed.”
“What if I loved one over the other? Is there enough love in a mamm’s heart to love two kinner…at the same time?”
Granny knew where the question was coming from: hurt. Fannie would wonder such a thing, since her own mamm didn’t seem to have love for anyone, even her long-suffering husband, but Eliza. How she praised that girl to a fault. “Fannie, every mamm has faults and makes mistakes. But just remember, what the Bible says love is…patient, kind, not rude, hoping the best…you know 1 Corinthians 13, jah?”
“But what if I can’t?”
“Love comes from God first. When He fills us with love, we can overflow with it on to others. If we don’t know love, we’re like a dry plant, sucking the water, or life, out of others. Understand?”
Fannie narrowed her gaze at Granny. “Nee, not the part about the dried up plant.”
“Well, you’ve seen some plants grow well in a garden, but it seems like the one next to it is sometimes dying. The growing plant is stealing water from the little one that’s not making it.”
“Ach, Granny. I’m so tired I don’t understand.”
Granny didn’t know if she should say anything derogatory about Fannie’s own mamm, but her heart ached for this girl who was like her own. “Fannie, your mamm doesn’t seem to have enough water, or love. So she can’t love like she should.”
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 Page 55
