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

  Janice clucked her tongue but quickly covered her mouth. “Oops. Sorry. But, isn’t that a little kids book, too?”

  Suzy cleared her throat. “Lizzie and I go online to make sure the books can be read by adults and children, since Jenny’s reading the books for homeschooling. Now, Anne of Green Gables is over 300 pages.” She turned to Janice and grinned. “And it’s not exactly like the movie.”

  Janice stopped knitting in mid-air. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re always too busy to read, and you just watch the movies.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because when we talked about the book, you kept mixing Jo’s name up with Winona Ryder, that’s how.”

  Janice’s bright smile flashed. “Busted. Suzy, you should be a detective. But I don’t have time to read such long books, being a pastor’s wife and running Forget-Me-Not-Manor, I fall asleep when I open a book.”

  Suzy leaned forward. “Why not have the girls at Forget-Me-Not read Anne of Green Gables out loud, in a group? They’d get a lot out of it.”

  “Hmm. That’s an idea.” Janice said. “Let me talk to the girls.”

  Suzy pointed to Granny. “Now, back to our discussion. What did you get out of Little Women?”

  Granny didn’t want to share something she feared, especially in front of Mona, who may make a snide remark. How could she say she feared she was a busy body, poking her nose into others business like Aunt Marge? No, she would deal with that between her and her Lord. “I liked how they knit for charity and gave so much to the Hummel family. Beth knew the risks of scarlet fever, but went over to help the family anyhow. No greater love than to lay down your life for a friend.”

  A buggy pulled up the driveway and Lizzie sprang up to see who it was. “Jeb’s home early. Now, everybody knows what to do, jah?”

  All heads nodded. Granny went into the kitchen and held the cake up so Jeb would see it when he opened the door. The girls all hid in the other room.

  Jeb stomped his boots on the outside mat, then stepped inside. He appeared to not see Granny, as he bent down to untie his boot laces and remove his boots, putting them on the black rubber mat. “Anyone home?” he hollered.

  “Old man, I’m right here. No need to yell.”

  He turned towards her and his jaw dropped. “Ach, is that for me?”

  “Jah, Love. Happy Birthday.”

  He went over to her and leaned down to give her a kiss. “Danki, Love. You’re married to an old man indeed.”

  Granny searched Jeb’s eyes. Was he sad he was turning seventy-three? But his eyes were filled with mirth and she knew aging was a problem she dealt with, not him. She caressed his cheek. “A wunderbar old man.”

  Soon all the girls raced out of the living room, singing Happy Birthday. Janice ran to the icebox and retrieved a Thanksgiving platter, enough for two people. “Yinz have a birthday feast. Compliments of Smicksburg Baptist Church.”

  The girls all embraced Jeb, wishing him a happy birthday, but Janice kissed him on the cheek and gave him a present. “It’s something I know you’ll love,” Janice said while bursting with enthusiasm.

  Jeb blushed, obviously not used to having a woman besides his wife kiss his cheek, and Granny covered her mouth to hide her grin.

  Jeb tore off the blue wrapping paper and held up a book. “A Charles Dickens Devotional? Danki. Is he a writer like Max Lucado?”

  All the English women laughed, while the Amish women looked furhoodled. Granny had heard of this author, but couldn’t recall what he wrote. When Janice mentioned that he was a classic writer and wrote the most wonderful Christmas story ever, and the children at the Baptist church were starting practice for a play written by this Dickens man, she wondered if she could go and watch it…but knew better than to push things concerning going into the Baptist church.

  She knew Jeb was deeply touched by Janice’s present, and looked around at all the happy faces. But where was Mona? Granny turned and literally stepped back in shock to see Mona in the next room, eyes sadder than a sick puppy.

  ~*~

  Granny put her feet up on the little footstool Jeb made for her edema; swollen ankles and old age seemed to go together, although this was a recent development. Knitting by oil lamp, with Jeb next to her reading, in a nice snug home was something she treasured. And since she learned today how needy people really were, she gave praise to God. To think that some people couldn’t afford their heating bills and keeping the house temperatures down to fifty was sad indeed. The cook stove and wood burning stove made their little house toasty.

  Jeb handed her his magazine. “Do you like that walking stick?”

  “For you? Jah, it’s nice.”

  “It’s for a woman. Has a butterfly carved on it.”

  Granny leaned closer. “I see them now. Are you thinking of making them to sell in the store?”

  “I could. But do you like it?”

  “Well, if I was in need of one, I suppose it’s alright.”

  “So you don’t like it?”

  Granny moaned. “I didn’t say that.”

  “So you’d use one, just like this?”

  Granny looked into Jeb’s searching eyes. “I don’t need a cane, so if you make me one for Christmas, I wouldn’t use it.”

  Jeb sighed. “I don’t know what to make you this year. Last year you were real surprised, but this year I’m stumped.”

  “Make a donation to Christian Aid in my name. That’s all I want.” She sat back and began to knit. “You can buy a goat for kinner in poverty.”

  “But I always make you something for Christmas. Don’t you care?”

  Granny looked out the window. “If this snow keeps up, and we have a hard winter, I’ll need snowshoes. I think we got eight inches, easily.” As Granny continued to stare out the window, she noticed two lights moving down their driveway. Must be a car since buggy lights were smaller and dim, but in this snow, who could tell. She soon saw Janice’s van, and her heart picked up speed. “Something’s wrong. Janice wouldn’t drive in this snow unless it was an emergency.

  Bea jumped off of Jeb’s lap and ran to the door, barking as fierce as her little voice could get. Jeb went to retrieve her and soon Janice appeared at the door. “Come on in out of that cold.” Jeb pet Bea to calm her.

  Janice had been crying, Granny soon saw, as her puffy eyes came into focus. “What’s wrong?”

  “I, ah, got a call from Joe. Marge had a miscarriage.”

  Granny closed her eyes to hide the tears that welled up, and to pray a quick prayer for Marge. Help her Lord. Carry her burden of loss, like you did for me when losing my girl.

  “She wants to see you,” Janice said softly. “Will you go?”

  “Now? In this weather?” Jeb huffed. “Nee, it’s too cold out.”’

  “I’ll drive in my car to Indiana. There’s lots of snow on the roads, but no ice.” Janice said. “We’ll be fine.”

  Jeb plopped down in his rocker. “Doesn’t Marge have kin?”

  Janice nodded. “She asked for Granny, though.”

  “Well, it can wait until morning,” Jeb stroked Bea nervously. “Deborah could freeze outside, or worse yet, fall.”

  Granny asked Janice if she could have a few minutes with Jeb privately, and Janice went into the kitchen. Granny took Jeb’s hand. “Turning seventy-three is hard, jah?”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about….”

  “First the walking stick, and now I’m too frail an old woman to go out in the snow? Jeb, I’ll be fine.”

  He rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. How she loved it when he did this when courting and it never lost its appeal. It meant he was strong and wanted to protect her; he cherished her.

  “Jah. Turning seventy-three seems more like seventy-five, and that’s close to eighty….”

  Granny got up and took Bea from his lap and sat in it. “I’ll be fine. Marge needs me. What if you were called out as bishop?”

  He sque
ezed her tight. “Bundle up, and tell Janice to drive slow if she speeds.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I will, love. But you just remember, you’re still the young man with those turquoise eyes I fell in love with years ago.”

  “My eyes are hazel.”

  “When you’re in a mood, they change. They’re turquoise now.” She leaned on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. “I might need to spend the night at the hospital, so don’t wait up.”

  He said nothing, but squeezed her tighter.

  ~*~

  Marge bit back tears when Granny entered her hospital room. But fear tightened like a noose around her heart. If she told Granny how she really felt, would she understand? Would she lose respect ? Would she scold her? When Granny came closer with outstretched arms, the wall she erected with others chipped. “So glad you came…”

  “How are you?” Granny asked, bending down to embrace her. “Are you in pain?”

  “Only a little. They’re keeping me twenty-four hours for exams. Female exams.”

  Granny untied her cape strings and sat in a chair near the bed. “I lost a kinner, so I understand.”

  “You were so far along though, so it was different?”

  “How so?”

  “Well, you felt the baby kick. Move inside of you. I never did so….” Marge could not look Granny in the eyes, but she needed to tell someone. “I’m not as sad as some other women would be.”

  “Well, we all carry our grief differently, I suppose. Jeb planting those roses helped me heal. To see new life is goot, and every year when they bloom, I think of my girl in heaven.” Granny’s eyes glistened. “She’ll meet me up there, and so will your little one.”

  Marge pulled at the bed sheets. “Granny. I have to confess something horrible. Just don’t know if I should. “

  Granny stood up. “Ach, don’t tell me you….” As quick as a person blushed, Granny’s face turned white as snow. “You aborted the baby?”

  Marge gawked. “No… ” Marge covered her face with her hands. “But you say God looks at the heart, and it’s just as bad.”

  Granny took her cape off her shoulders and sat back down. “Marge, speak plainly. I don’t judge, unless it’s something clearly forbidden in scripture. In that case, it’s really God who’s judging, not me. So….”

  Marge wiped the tears that formed on her cheeks. “I didn’t want the baby. And I had hateful thoughts though, wishing I’d have a miscarriage, and I did. And I’m not sad, so it’s the same. God sees my heart and I’m a murderer.”

  “Ach, you’re not a murderer. To hate is to murder, like the Good Book says, but God forgives, jah? Don’t you think I struggle with hatred at times?”

  Marge pushed the button to raise her bed. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  “Nee, I don’t do that. Ask Jeb. I hope I speak the truth, even if it hurts.” Her eyes mellowed. “When I was pregnant, my emotions swayed like the wind. Some days I’d knit a blanket for the boppli inside of me, other times I wished I wasn’t pregnant…at all. Understand?”

  “So you felt the same way?”

  “Well, when I lost my girl, she was still born. To see a child born with no breath isn’t natural, and very sad.” She got up and sat on the bed near Marge. “You’re not sad because maybe you don’t know what you lost, never being pregnant before?”

  “I lost the baby and I’m glad. That’s what’s wrong with me. I’m materialistic to my core. And selfish, too. I kept complaining to Joe about how we can’t afford a baby and I meant it.”

  Granny touched her hand. “Now, calm down and rest. Your hormones are all jumbled up, don’t forget. And remember, God is merciful and forgiving. Rest….”

  “But I feel so guilty… I am guilty. Oh, Granny I’m too afraid to say…”

  Granny squeezed her hand. “Marge, what aren’t you telling me?”

  Marge felt a rage rise within her. The same rage she felt when she fell for the lie years ago. “Joe and I were so stupid. Joe and I weren’t married, and I got pregnant, and we decided…” She couldn’t say it. What would Granny think? What if Janice found out? She’d be thrown to the curb where she deserved to be.

  “So, you had an abortion…” Granny grabbed her and pulled her to herself. “I’m so sorry, child. We all make mistakes.”

  Marge, in half shock, and half relief, sobbed uncontrollably. The guilt she and Joe carried for years haunted them to the point where they decided not to have children. And the fear she’d carried since she got pregnant…would she be a horrible mother since she killed her first born? And her own mother took her to the clinic at seventeen, and she didn’t understand. How could she? Her own grandchild? And I was to say nothing to anyone, especially at church!

  The more she cried and Granny held her, she felt a release of sorts that was foreign to her. Could God ever forgive such a thing? As Granny stroked her hair, hushing her, saying ‘Mercy’ and ‘Grace on you’ the warmth of God she felt in church hovered around her, seeping into the iron wall she’d built up around her heart that kept this horrible secret…and it was being lifted….

  ~*~

  Granny felt Bea licking her face and she shooed her away. “Stop that.” She heard a chuckle, opened one eye, and saw Jeb standing by the bed. Bea jumped with glee as she woke up to get her morning belly rub. “What time is it?”

  “Ten. Was getting worried, but you came in late.”

  Ten? Amish women never slept until ten. She bolted up and glared at Jeb. “Why didn’t you wake me up, old man?”

  “Because you came in at two in the morning.” He turned to retrieve a wooden tray he’d laid on their dresser. “Here, I made you breakfast.”

  The ornately carved tray was a beauty. Little songbirds flew across the top and birds’ nests were on the bottom. “Jeb, did you make this?”

  “Jah. We think they can sell in the store.”

  She rubbed her hands over the dark wood. “Is it pine?”

  “Nee, solid walnut. Hard to find, so it’s worth more. They had extra at the mill, scraps real cheap.”

  “Now, this is something I’d like for Christmas,” Granny said, hoping Jeb would get the obvious message. She wanted to keep this tray.

  Jeb winked. “Nee. You said you wanted snowshoes and snowshoes you will get.”

  “I didn’t say that. Men wear snowshoes, not women.”

  “I heard it as plain as day, and Roman and I are working on them now.” He chuckled and pointed towards the tray. “Now, eat your eggs and bacon before they get cold.”

  Granny, now awake, remembered Marge’s sorrow last night. What the poor girl had been through, and what kind of mother did Marge have, encouraging an abortion?

  Jeb sat on the bed. “Deborah, I was only kidding. You want this tray?”

  She swallowed hard. “I’m fine. Just so sad about Marge.”

  “Jah, what you told me last night, it’s a pity. But you helped Marge cry those cleansing tears, and showed her in scripture how she was forgiven? Made white as snow?”

  “Jah, I did. So why am I so tired? Germs in the hospital. Might have caught something.”

  “You give out so much, and you need to rest…”

  Granny remembered telling Marge to rest, but she had a hard time doing it herself. She planned to go to Maryann’s to check on her today. But she just couldn’t move. “Jeb, I feel so bad about Marge and that burden she carried, but I found something else out last night.”

  “What?”

  “Well, in the book, Little Women, there’s an aunt who is too opinionated and doesn’t mind her business. And I kept wondering if I was like her, but these girls really do need me.”

  Jeb took her hand. “Of course they do. Who do they go to first to tell all their problems? Coming over here during the week to talk one-on-one? It’s always you.”

  “Nee, I’m asking them to come over and bake pies…”

  “You don’t bake with Fannie and she’s here nonetheless.”

  G
ranny smirked. “If you had a mamm like Mona, you’d come here, too, for a word of encouragement.”

  Jeb laughed. “Ach, Deborah, how can I help you carry such a heavy burden as that woman?”

  Granny took a bite of eggs. “I best be eating…and have my morning devotions.”

  “I’m headed out to the shop. I’ll take Bea with me.” He kissed her forehead and scooped Bea up. “Come on, sweetie.”

  Granny felt fatigue wash over her, so she took a sip of coffee. Feeling that all too common feeling to unload her burdens at the foot of the cross, she prayed:

  Lord,

  I’m sorry I hold unkind thoughts towards Mona, but she’s an awful hard woman, and treats Fannie so cruel it makes me sick. Really, Lord. You know how I get headaches after knitting circle now. Give me wisdom to know if I have to actually ask her not to come. When I started this circle, I wondered if the English wouldn’t get a long, and now Mona has all the Amish on pins and needles.

  And Lord, I don’t know what’s wrong with Maryann, but I have a sense it’s not goot. Please let her know today she’s loved. That I love and care for her. And do that for Marge too. Lord, heal her heart. Guilt is something you don’t want us to carry, being the worst kind of burden. Let her know that even though her sin be as red as scarlet, she’s white as snow and forgiven, because you took her place at the cross. You took the blame for her sin. And lead her to scriptures that will go from her head into her heart, that we are all hopelessly flawed, like Jo feared in Little Women. And we need your grace…

  In Jesus name

  Amen.

  ~*~

  My Dear Readers,

  Thank you once again, for reading about Granny and her knitting friends. One of my favorite Bible verses is:

  “Come now, let's settle this," says the LORD. "Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow. Though they are red like crimson, I will make them as white as wool.” Isaiah 1:18 NLT

  Guilt is a cruel master, and one God doesn’t want us to follow. I have two friends who got abortions while in their teens, encouraged by their parents, and annually they grieve for the child they lost that day. And their guilt just doesn’t seem to go away, even though the abortion was decades ago. But other women have told me that they were set free from guilt, understanding how deep the love of God really is. If you’re a woman who needs to talk to someone about a guilt related issue, please contact me on my website, www.karenannavogel.com.