This was the first time Rebekah had lost someone so close to her. She’d only been six when Grandpa Stoltzfus died of a heart attack. She barely remembered him, and at the time of his death, she hadn’t been so greatly affected.
Despite Rebekah’s resolve, a few tears slipped out from under her lashes and splashed onto her cheeks. Oh, God, why did you have to take my mammi ? Why must life be so unfair?
No answer. Just the whisper of the wind wafting through the trees overhead.
Rebekah wondered if God had even heard her prayer. She wondered if He cared about her at all.
***
The funeral dinner was held at Rebekah’s folks’ place, and an array of food and beverages had been prepared and brought in by many of their friends and neighbors. Most of the adults had been served inside the house, but some of the younger ones decided to eat their meal at one of the picnic tables set up on the lawn since it had turned out to be such a warm day.
As Mary Ellen walked across the grass carrying two plates of food, she noticed Rebekah sitting in her wheelchair under the branches of a large willow tree. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was pursed tightly as if an invisible drawstring had pulled her lips together.
“Are you sleeping?” Mary Ellen asked as she approached her cousin.
Rebekah’s eyes snapped open. “No. Just resting my eyes.”
“Sure is a hot, muggy day, isn’t it?”
“Jah, but then that’s typical summertime weather.”
Mary Ellen held one of the plates out to Rebekah. “I brought you something to eat.”
“Danki, but I’m not so hungry.”
“Maybe not, but you need to keep up your strength.”
“My strength? My strength for what—crying?” Tears seeped under Rebekah’s long lashes and dribbled onto her flushed cheeks. “I—I was determined not to do that, yet here I am, giving in to my tears anyway.”
Mary Ellen bent down to place both plates on the ground; then she leaned over Rebekah’s wheelchair and gave her a hug. “We’ll all miss Grandma, but you probably will feel the greatest loss. She lived with you and took care of your needs for a long time.”
Rebekah nodded.
“God knows what’s best for each one of us, so I’m sure He will give you the strength to get through this time of loss.”
“It was best to take Grandma away?”
“Not better for us, maybe, but for Grandma, it surely was.”
“She’s dead, Mary Ellen.”
“I know that, and I’ll miss her, too. But remember that the Bible says for a believer to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.” Mary Ellen smiled as she looked up at the cloudless sky. “If we could only know what heaven is really like, I think we would all long to go there.”
“Maybe so.”
“Grandma’s no longer confined in her aging body. She doesn’t have to toil here on earth or feel any more physical pain. She’s probably having the time of her life, walking all over heaven with Grandpa and Jesus right about now.”
Rebekah nodded slowly. “I—I know you’re right, but it’s ever so hard to let go of my precious mammi because I miss her so much. Every time I go into her room or see something that reminds me of her, I feel as if my heart is breaking in two.”
“Grieve if you must, Rebekah, but don’t let your grief consume you. Grandma wouldn’t want that.”
“Last night I had a distressing nightmare about her leaving me. Mom and Dad were in the dream, as well, and they disappeared into the same foggy mist that Grandma walked into after she told me good-bye.” Rebekah groaned and held her stomach as though she was in terrible pain. “Do you think that means they’ll be leaving me soon, too?”
Mary Ellen shook her head. “Of course not. It was only a dream—a dream that most likely came about because you are grieving over the loss of our mammi.”
“You’re probably right, but it was so terrifying, and I–I’m afraid of what it might have meant.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe it was a warning of things to come ... a time when I’ll be all alone with no one to care for me.”
“That won’t happen because you have plenty of family who will be around to help take care of your needs.” Mary Ellen patted Rebekah’s arm in a motherly fashion. “I’m sorry about the nightmare, but I’m sure it won’t happen again, and you can’t let anything steal your joy.”
“How can I feel joy when I’ve just lost Grandma?”
“We all lost her, Rebekah. But life goes on, and we need to keep a positive attitude and look for things to be joyous about.”
“It’s not so easy for me to feel joy the way you do. You’ve always been able to smile, even in the face of difficulty. I remember when we were kinner and some of our classmates used to pick on you. Your loving, forgiving spirit was evident even back then.” Rebekah slowly shook her head. “I don’t know how you managed to stay so sweet and kind.”
“My life hasn’t always been easy. As you know, I lost my real mamm when I was young, and I had to make many adjustments. It was hard on Pappy, too, but he set a good example and taught me how to love and laugh. Then God brought Mama Mim into our lives, and she’s been there for me ever since.” Mary Ellen released a sigh. “There’s always something for which to be thankful. Maybe you just need to count your blessings, consider all the beautiful things God has made, and focus on how much He loves us.”
Rebekah nodded. “I know that’s true, and I’ll try to do as you suggested.”
Mary Ellen lowered herself to the ground beside the wheelchair. She reached for Rebekah’s plate and handed it to her. “We’d better eat before the ants find our food and decide to have themselves a little picnic of their own.”
Rebekah’s lips curved into a tiny smile. “I might be willing to share my food with one of my special aunts, but never with a bunch of picnic ants.”
***
Rebekah’s first bite of food tasted like cardboard, and she had trouble swallowing, but after a while, she found herself actually enjoying the meal. A short time later, Rebekah looked down at her plate and was surprised to see that it was empty. She’d been so busy visiting with Mary Ellen that she hadn’t even realized she had eaten everything.
“Guess I’m done,” she said, handing her plate to Mary Ellen.
“Good for you. I’m glad you ate something.”
Rebekah caught sight of Daniel Beachy walking across the yard, and she was surprised when he joined them under the weeping willow tree. Maybe he’d decided this was a good chance to speak with Mary Ellen since Johnny wasn’t around to hog the conversation.
“I’m sorry about your mammi,” Daniel said, dropping to the ground on the other side of Rebekah’s wheelchair. “I didn’t know her as well as some in our community, but she seemed like a right nice woman.”
“She was the best grandma anyone could ever want,” Rebekah said with a nod.
“She wasn’t my mammi by blood,” Mary Ellen put in, “but she always treated me as such.”
Daniel removed his straw hat, and with the back of his hand, he wiped away the rivulets of sweat running down his forehead. “Whew! Sure has turned out to be a mighty warm day. With so many folks here, it’s nice that some of us could eat outside.”
Mary Ellen nodded. “If June’s this hot and sticky, I wonder what we can expect from the rest of our summer.”
“Probably more hot, muggy days,” he replied with a chuckle.
Mary Ellen joined him in laughter, but Rebekah just sat there, feeling as out of place as a June bug in December. My cousin looks so cute whenever she laughs. I’m sure that’s why all the fellows hang around her so much of the time. That and the fact that she’s got two good legs and can join in their fun and games. Rebekah glanced down at her lifeless legs. Two dead sticks, that’s all they were. Sure weren’t good for much. I’d probably never look as cute as Mary Ellen, no matter how much I laughed or smiled.
“Is this a private party, or can
anyone join in?” Johnny Yoder asked in his usual, smooth-talking way. Rebekah looked on in surprise as he plunked on the grass beside Mary Ellen. He held a man-sized plate of peanut butter cookies in one hand, and the smile he wore could have melted a block of ice. “I’ve brought you some dessert,” he said, extending the plate to Mary Ellen.
She reached out and snatched one off the plate. “Danki, Johnny. Peanut butter’s my favorite, so I’m beholden to you now.”
Johnny’s smug expression reminded Rebekah of the way some of their barn cats looked whenever they brought a poor defenseless mouse up to the house to show off their catch.
Johnny nudged Mary Ellen’s arm. “Since you’re beholden to me, does that mean I’m welcome to join this group?”
“Of course you’re welcome to join us. We’re glad to have your company, aren’t we?” Mary Ellen glanced over at Rebekah and then at Daniel.
Rebekah nodded. “It’s fine by me.”
Daniel only shrugged, and Rebekah was sure that his wrinkled forehead gave proof of his obvious disappointment. The poor fellow was probably irritated with Johnny for interrupting the conversation he’d been having with Mary Ellen. Rebekah couldn’t fault him for that. It did seem as if Johnny always showed up just when Daniel had begun to make a bit of headway with Mary Ellen.
In no time at all, the cookies were gone, though the two young men had eaten most of them. Conversation didn’t lag much, either—at least not between Johnny and Mary Ellen. Rebekah thought it most unfair that Johnny seemed to be hogging her cousin that way and hadn’t given either her or Daniel a chance to say much.
“The funeral service was long, wasn’t it?” Johnny asked, looking over at Daniel for the first time.
“Jah, they usually are.” Daniel leaned back on his elbows and turned his face toward the cloudless sky. Apparently he wasn’t any more interested in talking to Johnny than Johnny was in talking to him. Daniel was obviously put out because he hadn’t been able to say anything to Mary Ellen since Johnny had showed up.
“The funeral was almost as long as a regular preaching service, and sometimes it’s hard for people to stay awake that long.” Johnny cast a sidelong glance at Mary Ellen. “Say, how about that time you fell asleep in church?”
Mary Ellen jumped up, planting her hands on her slender hips. “What do you mean, Johnny? I never did such a thing, and you know it!”
“Sure you did,” he teased. “You nearly fell right off your wooden bench that day.”
“That’s not so.” Mary Ellen wrinkled her nose at him. “I always pay close attention during preaching.”
“I think he’s only kidding with you,” Rebekah said. “I sure don’t remember you ever falling asleep in church.”
“Me neither,” Daniel put in.
“Jah, well, maybe she wasn’t sleepin’,” Johnny admitted. “She might’ve been prayin’ for a really long time.” He leaned his head back and hooted until his face turned red and tears trickled down his cheeks. Then he jumped up and grabbed Mary Ellen’s hand. “Say, why don’t you take a little walk with me? We’ll head on down to the creek, and maybe that’ll help you cool off. A girl with a fiery temper needs a bit of coolin’ down, don’t ya think?”
Mary Ellen pulled away from him and folded her arms, although there was a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “What makes you think I would be willing to go anywhere with you, Johnny Yoder?”
He blinked a couple of times and gave her a jab in the ribs with his elbow. “Because I’m irresistible, and if you don’t agree to go with me, then I’ll have to get down on my knees and beg like a hund. You wouldn’t want me to do something that embarrassing, now would you?”
“Oh, all right,” Mary Ellen conceded with a shrug. “I couldn’t stand to see you beg like a dog.” Her gaze fell on Rebekah; then it swung over to Daniel. “You’re both welcome to come along.”
“No, thanks,” Rebekah declined. “I’d rather stay right here under this shady old tree.” She glanced at Daniel, who now lay on his back, using his straw hat as a pillow. “You go ahead, if you want to, Daniel.”
He crinkled his nose and waved a hand. “Naw, they don’t need me taggin’ along.”
There’s that look again, Rebekah noted. Poor Daniel. He’s so smitten with Mary Ellen that he doesn’t know what to do. What with Johnny being around all the time, he has about as much of a chance at winning her over as a snowball does of staying frozen until the Fourth of July.
Mary Ellen and Johnny said their good-byes, then walked away, giggling like a couple of kinner.
***
“Why didn’t you go with them?” Rebekah asked, as she looked down at Daniel. “I’m sure Mary Ellen would—”
“I’d rather not be a fifth wheel on the buggy.” He pulled himself to a sitting position. “I’d have gone if you’d been willing, but no, not alone.”
Rebekah shook her head. “If I had agreed to go along on the walk, I would have only slowed the rest of you down.”
“I could have pushed you in your wheelchair. I’ve had lots of practice with the plow and my daed’s mules, so we’d move along pretty fast, and we wouldn’t have slowed anyone down.”
Rebekah grunted. “I’ve never been compared to a team of mules before.”
His face heated up, and he gave his earlobe a quick tug. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” Why do I always seem to say the wrong thing?
“That’s all right. It’s not important,” she murmured.
“Have you written anything interesting for The Budget lately?” Daniel asked, taking their conversation in another direction and hoping to draw Rebekah out of her melancholy mood.
“Not really.” She stared down at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap. “I–I’m not so sure I want to continue doing it now that Grandma is gone.”
“How come?”
She shrugged.
“Do you think your mammi would want you to give up doing things just because she died?”
“I—I guess not. Knowing Grandma, she’d probably want me to keep writing for The Budget, the way she used to do before she turned her column over to me.”
He nodded and smiled. “I think you’re right about that.”
“Well, I suppose I’d better go see if Mom needs me for anything.” Rebekah motioned to the plates on the ground. “Would you please hand me those so I can take them inside?”
“Want me to take ’em there for you?”
She shook her head with a determined expression. “I can manage something that simple.”
“Okay.” Daniel placed the plates in Rebekah’s lap, wishing there was something he could do or say that might help take away her pain.
“Danki.”
“You’re welcome.”
Rebekah wheeled away, leaving Daniel alone and wondering why he could never seem to say the right thing when she was around.
CHAPTER 4
Grandma had been gone for nearly a month, yet the pain still lingered in Rebekah’s heart. She missed the dear woman so much—especially the long talks they used to have. Grandma had always been full of good advice, and Rebekah often wondered where all that wisdom had come from.
Nearly every night since Grandma’s death, Rebekah had dreamed about her, often having the same nightmare that involved others in her family being taken from her, too.
“Oh, Lord, what would I do if something happened to Mom and Dad? How would I manage on my own?” she mumbled one morning, as she entered Grandma’s old room.
No answer. Like all the other times she had asked God before, He seemed to be ignoring her. Didn’t God care how much she was hurting? Didn’t He want to give her a miracle?
Rebekah drew in a deep breath and reached for the watering can sitting beside some pots of African violets on the dressing table. Grandma had died so unexpectedly, and Rebekah hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Now she was determined to keep Grandma’s plants alive and flourishing so she would have something to remember her by.
>
When Rebekah finished watering and pruning all the plants, she spotted Grandma’s Bible lying on the small table next to the bed. The last time she’d seen it, it had been lying across Grandma’s chest. Now it was closed just like Grandma Stoltzfus’s life.
Rebekah rolled her chair up to the table and reached for the Bible, holding it close to her heart. Unbidden tears seeped under her eyelashes, and she sniffed deeply, trying to keep them from falling onto her cheeks. She had heard about the process of grieving for a loved one, but nothing had prepared her for this terrible, empty ache in her soul. She hadn’t realized how much her grandmother had meant to her until she was gone. Now it was too late to tell Grandma all the things that were on her heart.
Why do folks always wait until it’s too late to express their real feelings for one another? she wondered. Why not tell them how much you care while they’re still alive?
She placed the Bible in her lap and opened it to a spot where a crocheted bookmark had been positioned. It was in the exact place where the Bible had been open when Rebekah found Grandma in the deep sleep of death.
“Mom must have put this in here,” Rebekah whispered. “Maybe she wanted to save the place where Grandma had last read God’s Word.” Her gaze traveled down the page until it came to rest on the verses Grandma had underlined. “Proverbs 3:5 and 6,” she read aloud. “‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’”
“Those are some good words to live by, don’t you think?”
Rebekah turned her head and saw Mom standing inside the doorway. She nodded but made no reply. If she spoke, she feared her voice would break and she would dissolve into a puddle of unstoppable tears.
Mom came the rest of the way into the room. She took a seat on the edge of the bed near the wheelchair and placed her hand on Rebekah’s trembling shoulder. “It’s all right to grieve for Grandma, but she would want you to go on with life and find happiness.”
Looking for a Miracle Page 4