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

Jeb reached for her hands. “God has not given you a spirit of fear, but power, love, and a sound mind. He loves you, wants to give you power and a mind free from worry. But as we know from the book, it doesn’t happen overnight. Pilgrim goes through many trials, but is never alone.”

  Mona felt a painful yet sweet softening in her heart. This is what she needed, yet had been denied most of her life: love. Someone who would help her. But then again, she’d erected a wall so no one could get in. Granny got up and sat next to her on the bench, and tears fell down her cheeks. Jeb clenched her hands tighter and Granny rubbed her back.

  Jeb then withdrew his hands to flip through his Bible again. “We all fall into pits in life. Mine might not look like yours, but it’s still a pit. And Kind David fell into one. He even wrote a song about it, here in Psalm 40: I’ll just read two lines though:

  “He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire.

  He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.

  He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God.

  Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord.

  Jeb slowly met Mona’s gaze. “Now, I believe God’s lifting you out of your pit, but Fannie doesn’t see it… yet. But when you start to sing a new song, one of happiness and not gloom, she’ll take notice and be amazed… and she’ll believe you’re sincere. Understand?”

  Mona felt free for the first time in her life. No amount of doubt from Fannie or anyone else was going to steal this precious feeling from her.

  ~*~

  Suzy lingered in her heated, leather seat, not wanting to get out of Missy’s luxurious car. She thought she loved Jeeps the most, but not now. Well, a Jeep with heated seats would do just fine, she mused.

  “It’s back here,” Missy said, waving over towards the barn near the dawdyhaus that Joe and Marge were moving back into.

  “In the barn?” Suzy clenched her fist. She would not get her hopes up. This surprise was probably the animals that Missy anonymously bought for the farm: goats, chickens, and other animals so the boys would learn farming and living close to nature.

  She hopped out of the car, zipped up her winter jacket, and pulled the new mint green scarf she just made over her face. What a pair they were, Missy with a long fur coat on, and her in her plain old black down jacket.

  “Hurry up, I can’t wait to see your face,” Missy called back.

  Suzy dodged mud puddles as she ran down the dirt road and caught up with Missy. “You’re in good shape for your age. How old are you?”

  “Your age,” Missy said with a wry smile.

  “I’m still twenty-nine. Okay, thirty-nine.”

  “Me, too.” Missy slid the barn door open and pushed Suzy inside. “They’re all yours.”

  Suzy shook her head, trying to wake up. She pinched herself, but no, she was not dreaming. In newly made stalls, there were four alpacas, all a different color: black, white, cream, brown. She remembered as a little girl wanting one of these gentle creatures as a pet, but now she wanted them for spinning their fur. Suzy spun around and saw Missy, a smile shining from her eyes. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  Missy beamed. “No, thank you. If you hadn’t obeyed that prompting God gave you to visit a grouchy old woman who was demeaning and arrogant, I’d still be in prison in that big old mansion.”

  Suzy laughed. “Correction. You are not old. And you’re not grouchy anymore.”

  Missy went over to Suzy and embraced her. “My chains are gone, just like the song says. My money is too, not that it’s a bad thing, but the love of it sure is.”

  Suzy jumped when she heard a rustling sound come from the back of the barn. “Oh, man. I think we need some cats.”

  “Why?”

  Suzy groaned. “I hate mice or rodents of any kind. Marge got that little kitten from the shelter, and maybe it will help. Just the scent of a cat around makes the mice flee.”

  Suzy went towards the sound, but Missy froze where she stood. “Why get close to them?”

  “Just curious. That was too loud for a rat.”

  “A rat!”

  “Could be chipmunks or squirrels, which can do damage to a place in no time.” Suzy continued toward the sound, and jumped when Colleen popped her head above a stall. “Goodness. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “Sorry. Just back here needing time alone. And taking measurements for the Amish work crew coming over.”

  Suzy put her hands on her hips. “Fess up. Amish men do their own measuring. Why are you out here?” She turned back to Missy. “It’s Colleen. You go ahead inside and I’ll see you there.”

  After Missy left, she turned to Colleen. “You look as white as a ghost. What’s wrong?”

  Colleen let out a sigh, vapor rising out of her mouth. “Remember how we quote Jo March all the time, saying we’re hopelessly flawed? Well, I’m beyond hopeless. I’m flawed through and through.” She stomped one foot. “Just when things were going so right!”

  Suzy gaped. “No. He wouldn’t do that. Not Hezekiah. He’s Amish!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll wring his neck. He broke things off, didn’t he?”

  “No,” Colleen blurted. “But I’ve messed things up horribly. I may as well just take off these plain clothes and put on jeans again.”

  Suzy shook her head. “Well, whatever happened?”

  Colleen shook her head like a bobble doll. “I’ve made such a mess of things. I hurt Hezekiah. He’ll never forgive me,” she said in staccato phrases. “It was a dream. That a man like him would want me.”

  Suzy led Colleen to a nearby bench. “Tell me what happened.”

  Just then, Janice called in from the barn door, “Suzy, are you in here?”

  “Yes. Why?” Suzy sprang up. “Do you need something?”

  “Oh, you silly. I want to see your expression. Can you believe these alpacas Missy bought, and for you. “

  Suzy waved her hand vigorously. Missy wanted to remain anonymous, and with Colleen sitting behind the stall…

  “Why are you waving at me, Suzy?” Janice chuckled as she drew near, but stopped short when Colleen came into view. “Oops. Guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

  Colleen stood up. “I won’t tell anyone, although everyone assumes it’s Missy anyhow. Who else has that kind of money around here?”

  “Who said it was someone here who gave the money?” Janice asked.

  “Everyone in town,” Colleen said. “The country gossip vine runs faster than the Amish…”

  Janice gave Colleen a pensive look. “Colleen. What’s wrong? Where’s my sunshine girl?”

  When Colleen didn’t speak, Suzy put her arm around her. “Tell us, honey.”

  “Well, I’ve been talking a lot to Clark ever since he got back. We were good friends, and the more we talk, I’m tempted.”

  “Define tempted,” Janice said evenly.

  “I miss music for starters. When I left Forget-Me-Not to live with my grandma, I loved the quiet. Clark’s been playing all kinds of stuff on his boom box and I find myself wanting to dance. Actually, I did dance.”

  “Dancing isn’t a sin,” Suzy said. “Some Amish square dance.”

  “I danced with Clark in the living room. He took my hand and we started dancing to the music. And of course, as my luck would have it, Hezekiah walked in. And the shock and hurt on his face… it was horrible.”

  “But Hezekiah is so understanding. Did you explain to him what happened?”

  Colleen scrunched her lips to one side and shook her head. “He stood there one minute, then charged out of the house.”

  Suzy took her hand. “Colleen, the Amish do that. They calm down before speaking, or at least try to. When he comes back, just explain to him what happened, like you just did to us.”

  “I miss dancing. I miss music other than Gregorian chants.” She stomped her foot again. “Who am I kidding?
I miss wearing jeans.”

  “Oh, honey. You need to talk to Granny.”

  “Granny?”

  “Yes. That trifle box she told you about, where you put things in that bug you and wait a few days, then see if it was really nothing. I know Clark being around has been a shock to you, and you do know he has a crush on you, right?” Janice asked.

  “No, I didn’t. Not until this morning. He told me and I think Hezekiah may have overheard.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Janice said. She grabbed Suzy and Colleen’s hands. “Let’s pray. I smell a rat.”

  Colleen cocked her head back. “There’s no rats in here. What are you talking about?”

  “It’s a code,” Suzy said. “It means we think Old Lucifer’s up to something.”

  ~*~

  Even though it was bitterly cold outside, Ruth sweat profusely and took a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and wiped her forehead. She met Jeb’s eyes, then Granny’s, and once again, shame flooded her. “Like I said, this is hard, but confession is goot for the soul, jah?”

  “Jah,” Granny said. “Hard to believe you have something so serious to confess that you can’t partake in communion.”

  “Well, I do. I hurt my boppli.”

  Granny leaned back. “What? Ach, Ruth. You couldn’t.”

  “Not on purpose. It was my stupid obsession with birds.”

  Jeb shook his head. “I’m ferhoodled. Make your meaning clear.”

  Ruth wrung her hands and her lips went pencil thin. “You know how sick I was the months leading to Debbie coming into this world. Well, I didn’t listen to Luke, but instead went out and filled the birdfeeders.”

  “And?” Jeb prodded

  “Well, I also didn’t stop feeding the birds by hand. They’re half-starved in January, so I took my seeds out and stood like a statue out in the cold, and let birds eat from my palms.”

  Granny looked at Jeb, confusion etched on her face. “I think it’s nice you care for birds.”

  “But Luke didn’t want me out there. Birds carry diseases, and well, I hurt Debbie.”

  “How?” Jeb asked, pulling at his long gray beard.

  “I must have gotten sick from the birds, jah? And it hurt Debbie…”

  Granny poured more hot water from her tea pot into Ruth’s cup. “But Debbie isn’t sick. I don’t understand your meaning.”

  Ruth clenched her tea cup. “Don’t you see? It’s my fault she has Down Syndrome!”

  Granny ran around the table and embraced Ruth. “Debbie’s not sick. She’s special and God let a very special couple have her.”

  “What do you mean?” Ruth asked, mechanically.

  “Well,” Granny continued, “you’re tenderhearted, and an overcomer. Luke and you, both. You had a mountain to climb last year, but you did it, and have a goot marriage. I’d say it’s a firm foundation for a happy family.”

  Jeb cut in. “Ruth, your Debbie has angels.”

  “What?” Ruth and Granny asked in unison.

  Jeb opened Pilgrim’s Progress that sat next to his Bible. Thumbing through and pulling at his beard harder, he finally said, “Ach, it’s right here. The Shining Ones, the three celestial creatures who clothe Christian with new garments and give him the certificate. These Shining Ones act as guardians who help Pilgrim.”

  “But isn’t that just a story?” Ruth asked.

  “Ach, maybe so. But the Bible says that wee ones have angels that ever behold the face of God.” He opened his Bible, scanned through, and then put up a finger, as if to hush them. “Baby’s angels ever behold the face of God. Listen to Matthew 18:10: ‘Beware that you don't look down on any of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels are always in the presence of my heavenly Father.’”

  Ruth didn’t know if she was tired, hungry from fasting or maybe just stressed, but she didn’t understand why Jeb was bringing up this scripture, as if it was as profound as Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses. She was relieved when Granny said she was confused, too.

  Jeb cocked his head. “From what I understand, Debbie will always be like a kinner inside, jah?”

  Ruth nodded. “The doctor said she won’t advance more than a five, maybe up to eight year old.”

  Jeb raised his hands in praise. “Don’t you see? She’ll always be a kinner inside, and will have angels that are always facing the Throne of God. Some say that angels here means ‘spirit,’ but it’s still all goot. Debbie’s spirit will ever behold God in a special way. Ach, remember when you’re a kinner, you forget about who offended you yesterday; you’re not troubled by half the things that bog down adults?” He paused, eyes shining. “The happiest days in my life were when I was a kinner. How about you, Ruth?”

  Ruth slowly shook her head, but she was still thinking about what Jeb said about Debbie having a special relationship with God. So, Debbie was blessed? Special in a way that never dawned upon her. Her delayed reaction to Debbie’s condition had given room to some awful thoughts, but this was beautiful.

  “Danki, Jeb. You’re the wisest bishop I’ve ever had.”

  Jeb lifted up the two books. “I read a lot. Fill my head with goot books.” He winked. “I even read Jane Austen, but that stays between us, jah?”

  Ruth laughed. “Jah.”

  ~*~

  When Fannie opened Granny’s storm door, she hesitated. Through the glass she could see that Ruth was having a mighty serious discussion with Bishop Jeb. Ruth? She was a saint. What would she have to confess?

  Fannie rolled her eyes. When would she ever stop comparing herself to others, always feeling inferior? Lately, no amount of memorizing scripture or reading little compliments from her box Melvin gave her had any lasting effect. Maybe for a few hours, but then she plunged down into negative thoughts again.

  She noticed Ruth was laughing now, so maybe this was just a friendly visit. Odd, though, since Jeb had church members lined up to confess any disunity or sin before breaking bread on Easter. Fannie saw that Granny was coming to the door, so she opened it.

  “Now, don’t act English and knock. Why not just come in?” Granny asked.

  “I, ah, well, thought I was intruding.”

  Granny touched Fannie’s cheek. “You never intrude. Jah, Jeb is busy, but I’d just have you sit in the living room.”

  “Is Ruth done? I mean, visiting and all.”

  Granny gave a wry smile. “She has her problems too, not just you. Come on in. Jeb knows you’re coming.”

  Fannie stepped back. “Maybe I can just tell Lizzie my problems? Jeb looks tired, and you do, too.”

  Granny pulled Fannie inside. “Jeb would be hurt. He’s your bishop.”

  For that Fannie was grateful, but she knew that Jeb had been unusually fond of her mamm lately, giving her a dog, picking her up to go places… anything for attention, Fannie moaned internally. And with her mamm’s wagging tongue, she wondered what she’d told Jeb about her. Post-partum depression had been her mamm’s excuse to justify her normal behavior!

  Ruth gave her a quick hug. “See you in an hour or so?”

  “Jah, I think. If I can get away from Anna. Melvin’s sitting with her now and he’s busy turning sod and spreading manure.”

  “So soon?”

  “It is March,” Fannie said. “And we’re growing some organic things for the store. How’s Little Debbie?”

  Ruth slipped her arm through Granny’s. “She’s fine. Real special little girl.”

  Ruth’s beaming face only magnified Fannie’s weaknesses, and she recoiled. A woman who gives birth to a handicapped boppli and not a care in the world. Why did she let her mamm get to her so much? Because she was so weak, Fannie thought, unlike Ruth who is a rock.

  Fannie rolled her eyes again. Don’t compare yourself to Ruth.

  “Well,” Ruth cut into her thought, “I think Debbie is mighty special at least.”

  “What?” Fannie asked in a monotone voice.

  “You can roll your eyes if you want, but Debbie is a special littl
e girl.”

  Fannie gasped, and then embraced Ruth. “Ach, I know that. I was thinking of something else.” She stomped her foot. “I’m a mess. Can’t even concentrate lately.”

  Ruth pat her back. “It’s called post-partum depression, jah? I have it a little bit, too. Sorry for snapping.”

  Fannie stiffened. She did not have a depression problem.

  Ruth gave her a quick squeeze and then turned to get her cape and bonnet off the peg near the door. “I best be getting home. Mamm’s watching Mica and Debbie, but I got to gabbing too much. Need to run.”

  A dart of jealousy hit Fannie’s heart. Ruth had help with her kinner, but she didn’t. Well, she did, but didn’t want it from her mamm.

  “Give me your wraps and go over and have some tea,” Granny said, her lips thin. “Are you alright?”

  “Nee, that’s why I’m here.” She staggered over to sit across from Jeb. “I’m here to confess, but you look too tired.”

  Jeb, who had his nose in a book, looked up. “Jah, I am. But this black tea’s keeping me going. What ails you, dear one?”

  Dear one? He never called her that. Did he feel sorry for her? Did she look that bad? She blurted out, “My mamm is Obstinate in Pilgrim’s Progress, and I don’t want anything to do with her.”

  Granny sat next to her. “What on earth?”

  “It’s in that book.” Fannie pointed to Jeb’s copy of Pilgrim’s Progress. “Best book on freedom I’ve ever read. Pilgrim leaves the City of Destruction with all the horrible people, and I’m making a break from my mamm, Obstinate. Pilgrim did the right thing in leaving, cutting ties. And I –”

  “Hold on!” Jeb cut her off. “Fannie, now listen here. You read just the first part of the book for knitting circle, jah?”

  “Is there a part two?”

  “Jah,” Jeb said. “It’s about Pilgrim’s wife, Christiana, who leaves the City of Destruction after pondering his words.”

  “So Christian, or Pilgrim, or whatever his name is, goes back to the City of Destruction? I thought he died and went to heaven.”

  “He did,” Granny said. “No, he didn’t go back.”

  Fannie knew Jeb was too tired to listen and she’d most likely be told about her depression and need to forgive her mamm.