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

  “What’s a verb again?” Colleen asked.

  “An action. Like in a sentence, ‘Suzy visited Prissy.’ Visited is the verb. It’s an action, not an emotion.”

  Colleen had heard Jeb explain this, but how Suzy described it helped her understand a little bit better. “It’s a struggle for you to visit Prissy, so forgiveness is a struggle?”

  “Well, it depends on how great the offense. I’d say with what you’ve been through, sweetie, yes, it will be a struggle.”

  “But I can’t face my mom.”

  “Who said you had to?”

  Colleen felt her rigid back relax. “No one. I just thought sooner or later I’d have to talk to her, if I really forgave her.”

  Suzy narrowed her eyes, as if deep in thought. “Well, Jesus forgave the people who did him wrong, but he chose his closest friends wisely. No one says you have to ever be good friends with your mom. To be honest, it might not be good for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, you have a child to think about, and if they’re on drugs, you can’t expose Aurora to them.”

  Colleen wanted to jump for joy, but she only ran back over to Suzy and hugged her again. “I thought real forgiveness meant I needed to have a relationship with my parents. Thank you, Suzy.” She squeezed her tight. “My family is within the Amish community…and the knitting circle.”

  “Yes, it is, my girl,” Suzy said, “And we’re all kindred spirits.”

  ~*~

  She passed the massive hollow tree, wondering when a good winter wind would blow it over, like other trees, pulled up by the roots. Truth be told, Mona was glad the old tree was still there, since she hadn’t dared to drive a buggy past a certain point, always afraid to move further. The accident that had happened in her teen years still gave her nightmares, but no one was killed, and for that she was thankful.

  Mona spied Maryann’s house down the road, off to the left. It was a crisp white color, not having a smidget of cracked paint, unlike hers. How many times had she’d begged Freeman to get a work crew together and have the house scraped and painted? A million? If she hadn’t planted flowers outside around the mailbox, people driving by would think they were the strict Schwarsentruber Amish. But her husband was like her own dad, never paying attention to a word she’d said.

  When it was time to cross the road, the familiar panic made her palms sweaty. It was a back country road, with no cars in sight, so why did she have such a fear of driving a buggy? It was embarrassing to turn down invitations to work frolics and canning bees of all kinds, and Mona knew people thought her mighty unkind. No, unsociable. If they only knew how hard she tried. And, like Fannie said, she was making progress, joining the dreaded knitting circle.

  But Maryann was a few grades behind her in grade school and someone who she’d played with as a wee one. Knowing how upset the family was about the lump Maryann found in her breast just made her put on her boots, cape, bonnet, and force herself to bring words of comfort to her friend.

  Mona pulled into the driveway, evenly plowed on both sides, breathed in the crisp winter air and let out a sigh. She’d come over to this house numerous times to pull taffy this time of year. Or pour maple syrup in the snow to let it harden into candy. How much she missed in life, like Marilla, by being afraid…and proud. Not admitting she needed people.

  Soon Becca ran out of the side door. “Mona. So…happy to see you!”

  “Surprised, jah? It’s been a while.”

  “Let me take care of your horse.” Becca smiled and took the reins from Mona.

  “Danki. I appreciate that.” Mona made her way up the walkway to the side door, and again, childhood memories flooded her. Maryann’s parents were awfully nice, and never fought, it seemed. Unlike her own parents. She and Freeman rarely talked, but at least they didn’t bicker, which was much better. Mona opened the door and walked into the kitchen, seeing Maryann sitting peacefully at the kitchen table, tea cup in hand. But when she saw Mona, she clasped her hand over her mouth. “What’s wrong?”

  Mona took off her outer bonnet and tapped her boots on the black rubber mat. “Nothing’s wrong. Can’t I come over and see my goot friend unannounced?”

  Maryann slumped and grew pale. “Well, you haven’t been to my house in decades. Not even when I had my kinner…”

  “Well, I’ve been busy raising my own, and ach, well, I lost track of time.” The excuse sounded lame even to her. “Maryann, I’m mighty concerned about your health, so thought I’d pay a visit.”

  “I get further testing tomorrow. It could be nothing, just a benign tumor. Has Marge said anything to you?”

  “Marge? The Englisher that goes to our knitting circle?”

  “Jah, she’s a nurse and helped me through my surgery last year.”

  Mona shook her head. “Why would Marge say anything to me?”

  Maryann fidgeted with the hem of her apron. “Just wondering. I have to say, Mona, your visit alarms me. You haven’t been here in years, so I must look like death!”

  Mona went to the table and took a seat. “Nee, you look fine.”

  “But, why come now?”

  She tapped nervously on the oak table. “Well, to see how you are and to say…I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “We used to be bosom friends, like Anne and Diana. But I was opinionated and grouchy like Rachael Linn. I ruined it…” Maryann looked down, and it appeared to Mona that she hadn’t gotten through. “I’m here for you now.”

  Maryann looked up and set her chin firm. “You want to clear your conscience just in case I do have cancer?”

  Mona gasped. “How could you say such a thing?”

  “Mona, you’ve treated me so unkind for years. Do you really think we can carry on our relationship as if nothing had happened? I’ve been so terribly hurt by you.”

  “What can I say to make it right?” Mona felt the blood rush down to her toes and a dizzy spell came on, but she would not give in.

  “Mona, I forgive you. That you can depend on. But I don’t trust you, understand? That needs to be earned.”

  For some reason, Mona wanted to scream at Maryann. It was mighty unchristian to act this way, and she didn’t have the dream family like Maryann did. No, she had grouchy Freeman and only two daughters, not being blessed with more. And Maryann knew she was a nervous driver!

  “Would you like some pie?” Maryann asked, with an obligatory smile.

  Mona put a hand up. “I’ll leave. It’s clear that you don’t want me here.”

  Maryann put her hand over her heart. “I guard myself here. Until you can show me you’re sorry, I can’t let my guard down. Understand?” Maryann paused, as if wondering if she should go on. “How many times had I made plans and you canceled? How many nights I’d cried, knowing I’d lost a friends who was like a sister. And I’ve stopped by your house, only to be treated rudely.” Maryann looked at Mona with a glint of hope in her eyes. “I hope you understand.”

  “I most certainly do not. You are Amish, and we forgive.” Mona spun around and retrieved her bonnet and flew out the door, bumping into Becca as she came in, and didn’t even stop to say excuse me. This visit had not turned out to be what she expected. And the bitter pill to swallow was that Maryann was right. She’d ruined their kindred spirit relationship.

  ~*~

  Janice closed her eyes as Linda, an excellent reader, finished Anne of Green Gables. The small group of single mothers who lived at Forget-Me-Not Manor wiped away tears, and one went over and sat next to Janice, leaning her head on her shoulder.

  What was it that caused such a reaction from these girls? She needed to find out. “Girls, why all the tears?”

  Paula, the girl next to her, said, “I’m so glad you were there for me.”

  “You took us in when no one wanted us,” said another girl.

  Janice had tried to get these girls to open up, but nothing seemed to work. “Girls, I have to say, I didn’t expect this response to a book. You�
�ve read in the Bible about people being not wanted or abused by their families, right? Yinz had no reaction after reading about Joseph being sold into slavery by his own brother.”

  A shy red-haired girl who rarely spoke up in group conversations raised a hand.

  “Yes,” Janice said, urging her to speak.

  “It… it w-was a long book. After a w-while, I felt like A-Anne.”

  Janice’s heart swelled with emotion, since this stuttering girl’s story was sadder than most. “So, longer books give you time to take it all in?”

  She nodded. “When Anne g-got to stay at G-Green Gables, I felt sad.”

  “But how is that good?” Janice blurted.

  “It m-made me realize I c-could never live here f-forever, and I c-cried. When Granny comes over with p-pies, she talks about cleansing t-tears.”

  Janice wanted to shake her head in confusion but restrained herself. “So, let me get this right. You read that Anne could stay at Green Gables, you’re sad that you can’t live here forever, you cried because of that, and you think the tears released your hurt.”

  All the girls nodded their heads, and Janice realized for the first time that a good book could take the reader to a place where they became the character, and helped them wade through their emotions. What a revelation! “Say, would you girls like to have a regular reading circle?”

  The girls agreed in unison, looked at each other and laughed.

  “So, what should we read?”

  The girl with the red hair again put her hand up. “Can we r-read the book that c-comes after Anne of Green Gables?”

  The blond-haired beauty that was cuddling her infant girl raised a hand. “It’s listed in the back of the book. It’s called Anne of Avonlea.”

  Janice could feel her smile spread from ear to ear. “Okay. I’ll get the books, and we’ll see what else we can learn from Anne.”

  ~*~

  Lizzie did not participate as Marge challenged the girls to a race to the book section at Punxsy-Mart. She actually held on to the twins’ hands as Marge and Jenny ran.

  When they arrived at the large book selection, Lizzie’s eyes immediately went to books she had on her list for homeschooling. She hadn’t taken Jenny out of school…yet. And today, the girls didn’t go, instead going on a field trip to Rainbow Alpaca Farm to help feed the animals their breakfast and learn what all was entailed in having one of the beautiful creatures Tillie called ‘half lamb, half llama.’

  Marge came near her, downcast all of a sudden. “My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.”

  Lizzie turned to meet her eyes. Marge had confessed the abortion she’d had as a teenager, and how it had haunted her ever since. Was she talking about this? Or her recent miscarriage? “Marge, just when I think you’re in a wunderbar goot mood, you say such sad things.”

  “Anne said it in the book, and it’s how I feel, here with you and the girls. I’m sorry for being selfish, but now that my closest Amish friends know about my…abortion…and their reaction, saying I was so young, a year older than Maryann’s Becca, well, I’m finding healing.”

  Lizzie put a hand on her English friend’s shoulder. “I’m glad. So why the sadness?”

  Marge shrugged. “I guess I wanted the baby more than I thought. Guilt clouded my vision or something. But I’d long to have an Anne Girl.”

  Lizzie had to stifle a grin. Her animated friend did impulsive things, but at least she tried. Moving up to Smicksburg last year to live off the grid and failing was a lesson learned in knowing herself better. Now, reading a book about an orphan girl had Marge thinking she wanted a twelve year old girl with red hair and freckles. Truth be told, so did Lizzie. “I’d like that, too. To save a girl from a life of loneliness and give her a home. Every child deserves a home.”

  Marge’s eyes narrowed and she snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. Foster kids. It’s like a trial run. It’s not an adoption.”

  Lizzie looked around her, mentally counting three girls, and then thought about what Marge said. Foster children. “Is there a need for foster kinner?”

  Marge gawked. “Sure is. There are so many kids in foster care; they have them in group homes. They’re called orphanages in other countries, but we’d never admit we had orphans in America.”

  “Don’t these kinner have any relatives? Some family member to take them in?”

  Marge shook her head. “Look at Colleen. She was like a parent to her own folks, them being strung out on drugs. It’s more common than you think. And I do home visits when working, and there’s a family I need to report.” She looked down and wrung her hands. “Problem is they’re Amish.”

  Lizzie gasped. “Who?”

  “Oh, the family lives south of here, past Indiana. I think they’re Amish, but could be Old Order Mennonite.”

  “Maybe I know them. What’s their last name?”

  “Miller. Does that help?”

  “Nee. First name?”

  “Joe and Mary Miller.”

  Lizzie looked up, deep in thought. “But I know several Joe and Mary Millers that are married, where do I start?”

  “By keeping the whole thing I just said under your bonnet. I can’t prove it yet. But many kids in foster homes are there until they’re eighteen.”

  “Do their foster parents get to keep them then?”

  “Sadly, most go off on their own. Many join the military to get money and an education. So, they’re pretty much on their own.”

  Lizzie took the book Jenny handed her, looked at the title and price, and then nodded her head in approval. “Do you mean all alone? No kinner at all?”

  “Yes, and it makes me want an Anne-Girl.”

  “Why are you calling her Anne-Girl?”

  “Because Aunt Josephine called her that, and it stuck. She wanted Anne to come and live with her in the fancy city, and be rich, but Anne knew what was important. L-O-V-E. What she found in Matthew and Marilla. I long to do that for a young girl.”

  Lizzie had a hard time absorbing all that was being said. She looked over at the girls talking cheerfully about what book to buy. They had each other, but it appeared that many didn’t. To be totally alone in the world would be an awful feeling. It said in her Bible that the Lord put the lonely in families. Was this something they needed to be doing as a community? Lizzie admired how the Baptists opened a home for single mothers. Did the Amish need to open up homes for foster kinner?

  Then she thought of Susanna Yoder in New York. Granny wrote to her regularly and gave updates as to her health, and the progress of the foster boys that were adopted by the Cherry Creek Amish. Is this something she needed to talk to Roman about? But he was struggling in the Rocker Shop, brainstorming for new wooden products to make, sales being low. “How can people afford foster kinner?” she asked Marge sheepishly.

  “Oh, the government gives the foster parents enough money to raise them. It’s only when they turn eighteen that they are no longer provided for and most likely why foster parents need to let them go. Not enough money to send them to college or learn a trade. The military does that.” Marge peered into Lizzie’s eyes like a hawk on prey. “Hey, what are you thinking?”

  Lizzie smirked. “I think we’re kindred spirits. We think alike.”

  Marge grabbed her shoulders. “If you look into it, I will, too. We can do it together.” Marge was on her tip-toes now with delight, getting ready to do her jumping.

  “I think I will…I wouldn’t mind having an Anne Girl around….” Tillie pulled on her dress, bringing her back from imagining things…just like Anne. “What is it honey?”

  “I can’t wait any more. When are we going to the animal shelter?”

  Lizzie knelt down to face Tillie. “Did you pick a book out on animals?”

  Tillie held up a book on caring for kittens and held it up. “But I can’t read it.”

  Lizzie wondered at times why God allowed her to raise such beautiful girls. She pulled Tillie to herself. “I’ll read it to you. Do you
want another kitten?”

  “Jah, but we have a rabbit. Will a cat kill a rabbit?”

  Lizzie nodded. “A cat in the house wouldn’t be goot, but we have them in the barn.”

  “I wanted a pet for inside. To cuddle with at night.”

  Marge leaned towards Tillie. “Aw, honey, you have enough love in that heart of yours for two people.” She rubbed the top of Tillie’s bonnet playfully. “When we get to the animal shelter, another animal might grab at your big heart. One that gets along with rabbits.’

  Lizzie looked up at Marge. “What gets along with a rabbit?”

  “Anything but a cat, and we’ll see lots of animals today, even rabbits. People can’t seem to afford pet food anymore.” Her eyes widened. “Maybe your rabbit would like a friend. How about another rabbit?”

  Tillie’s eyes misted. “Daed said I can’t sleep with a rabbit on the bed, like Oma and Opa do with a dog.” She looked hopefully at Lizzie. “Maybe we’ll find a little dog.”

  Lizzie moaned.

  ~*~

  Granny closed her eyes after she read the monthly newsletter from Christian Aid Ministries. She put her rocker to motion while the wind knocked to get inside. How many people were out on the streets in such weather? Why was she so blessed all her seventy years to live in such comfort, while others didn’t have their basic needs met? Clean water and daily food. Ach, Lord, we do try to give as much as we can. And I’m knitting scarves, but it just doesn’t seem enough.

  The windows rattled and a draft swept through the room. Jeb opened the side door, inviting December winter to come on in and have a seat. Why didn’t he close the door sooner? Old man….at seventy-three. Who knew how long he’d be with her or vice versa?

  Feeling the cares of the world creep up on her, she quickly cast poverty in America on the Lord, knowing He was a big God who cared, and she was only one person. Then she lifted up the uncanny fear she had about being separated from Jeb that just wouldn’t let her have any peace.