The Healing Jar

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Strasburg

  Mary Ruth repositioned a small pillow behind her back, trying to find a more comfortable position. She felt useless, sitting around unable to do all the normal things. Worse yet, the muscle relaxers the doctor had prescribed made her sleepy. So for the last few days she hadn’t even gotten much knitting or mending done. Her diminished vigor frustrated her. Mary Ruth liked lots of action around her—people to talk with and plenty to do.

  It’s probably for the best that Jesse turned down my offer to watch Cindy again. Mary Ruth frowned. She had asked Jesse about the possibility several weeks ago when she’d seen him at the grocery store. That’s when he informed Mary Ruth that he had recently hired a fifteen-year-old girl from outside their church district who’d been coming over to his house to watch Cindy when he was at work.

  Mary Ruth felt disappointed and still hadn’t come up with a way to get Lenore and Jesse together again. It didn’t help that Mark monopolized so much of Lenore’s time these days. Mary Ruth was convinced that he was not the right man for Lenore, but she didn’t feel right about saying anything.

  She released a heavy sigh. Guess the best thing to do is give my concerns and desires for Lenore over to God and try not to meddle.

  Mary Ruth heard a car pull into the yard and assumed it must be Sara. She would rest a while longer, then go out to see how her granddaughters were doing in the garden. She chuckled. And if they need any advice on weed pulling, I can give that too.

  “Sorry I’m late, Lenore. I see you started without me.” Sara gestured to the row where Lenore worked, then slipped on a pair of gardening gloves and knelt beside a line of tomato plants.

  “It’s all right. I didn’t want to sit here wasting time, so I decided to get busy pulling these stubborn weeds.”

  “There does seem to be a lot of them.” Sara clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she shook her head. “The abundance of harvest from the tiny seeds we plant is awesome, but weeding is the only part of growing a garden I don’t like.”

  “How are the little pots of tomatoes you set out on your patio doing?” Lenore asked.

  “Not bad, thanks to Brad. He keeps them watered, and of course since they are in pots, there are very few weeds to worry about.”

  “Did you plant anything besides tomatoes?”

  “Just a pot of chives. They grow well, and it’s handy to go out back and cut some whenever we have baked potatoes or some other food that chives go well with.”

  “Yes, and unless you don’t care about them spreading all over the garden, chives do best contained in pots. The same holds true for mint and most other herbs.”

  “You seem to know a lot about gardening.”

  “I suppose so—enough to know that these weeds are not giving way easily this morning.” Lenore dug her shovel deep into the ground and lifted out a hunk of weeds. She repeated the process, only this time the shovel went deeper.

  Sara tipped her head. “What was that? I heard a clink. You must have hit a rock or something.”

  Lenore’s sweaty forehead wrinkled. “I don’t know. It sounded like glass, not a rock.” Lenore reached her hand into the hole she’d created.

  Sara dropped her shovel and moved closer to her cousin. “Be careful. If it’s broken glass, you might cut yourself.”

  “I don’t think it’s broken.” Lenore moved her hand around inside the hole. “It feels like one of Grandma’s canning jars.”

  “Why would a canning jar be buried in the garden?” Sara craned her neck forward.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe for the same reason those secret canning jars were found in the basement and barn.”

  “You think it’s another prayer jar?”

  “We’ll soon see.” Lenore continued to dig and pull, until at last she held the glass jar in her hand.

  “Look!” Sara pointed. “There are strips of paper inside.”

  “The glass lid is on pretty tight, but I think I can get it off.” Lenore pried on the metal wire holding the lid in place; after a few seconds it loosened, and she removed the lid.

  “Reach inside and let’s see what one of the notes has to say. Maybe it’s a few words of encouragement that will brighten our day.” Sara scooted closer to Lenore.

  Lenore brushed off her hands, then reached in and removed the paper nearest the top. She spread it out and read 2 Corinthians 12:9: “‘My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’”

  Sara drew in a sharp breath. “This has to be another jar filled with notes from my mother. But why would Mama hide it in the ground?”

  Lenore shrugged. “Should we see what some of the other notes say?”

  “Yes. Let’s dump them out on the grass, and then we’ll each pick a note to read.” This wasn’t getting the weeding done, but Sara felt a strong need to see what her mother had written in secret.

  Lenore held the jar upside down, allowing the scraps of paper to fall onto the grass. “Do you want to go first, or shall I?”

  Sara hesitated a moment, then reached out her hand. “I’ll choose one randomly.” She chose one of the larger pieces of paper lying closest to her knees.

  As she read the note silently to herself, Sara’s mouth gaped open. “Th–that’s impossible.”

  “What is? What does the note say?” Lenore’s voice rose a notch, but Sara barely took notice.

  Sara’s stomached clenched, and her breathing felt restricted. She wasn’t sure she could even speak. “Here, read this.” She handed the slip of paper to Lenore.

  “This is my final note before I leave home, carrying the shame of what I’ve done. For the past year I’ve been sneaking out at night or whenever my folks are away to meet Herschel Fisher from a neighboring community. I’ve never told anyone about him, because he’s kind of wild, and Mom and Dad would not approve. I found out the other day that Herschel has been seeing someone else—a young woman named Mattie, and they are planning to get married. There is no point in me telling Herschel now and ruining his chance at happiness with Mattie. I love Herschel and would not want him to marry me out of obligation when he doesn’t love me in return, so Herschel must never know I am carrying his baby.”

  Lenore reached over and clasped Sara’s trembling hand. “Jesse’s late wife had an uncle named Herschel Fisher. Could he be the same man your mother wrote about?”

  Sara’s skin tingled as her fingers touched her parted lips. “Oh my! Wouldn’t it be something if he was? All those times Herschel came into the flower shop, and the thought that he could be my father never entered my mind.”

  “What are you going to do about this?” Lenore asked.

  “I … I don’t know.” Sara’s voice trembled as a flush of adrenaline zipped through her body. She’d waited so many years to learn the truth of who her father was, and now she didn’t know what to do. If she approached Herschel and asked if he’d known her mother, would she have the nerve to tell him that she was his daughter, whom he’d never known anything about? Would he be happy to meet her? Or could this unexpected news be too much for him to accept?

  Chapter 43

  Are you going to talk to Jesse and get Herschel’s address so you can tell him what you found out?” Lenore asked Sara.

  Sara sucked in her bottom lip. “I’m not sure what to do. What if Herschel isn’t my father? Or what if he is, and he doesn’t want anything to do with me? Herschel has already been through a lot, what with losing his wife and grieving for her for so many years. I don’t want to put any more stress on him.”

  Lenore looked at the piece of paper Sara still held. “Jesse mentioned once that his wife’s uncle has no children, so he might be happy to learn that he has a daughter.”

  Sara moaned. “Oh, why does this have to be so difficult?”

  “Maybe you should talk to Grandma about it. She deserves to know we’ve found another prayer jar, and don’t you think she should read what your mother wrote in that note?”

  “You’re right. Let’s g
o talk to her now.” Sara scooped all the notes back into the jar and picked it up. “Grandma might want to read the rest of these messages too.”

  When they entered the house, Grandma greeted them in the entryway. “I was about to come outside and see how much progress you two have made in the garden. Is everything going well out there?”

  “We haven’t pulled even half the weeds yet because we found this.” Sara held up the glass jar.

  Grandma squinted over the top of her glasses. “Is that another prayer jar?”

  Lenore nodded. “I found it buried in the dirt when I was trying to dig up some really tough weeds.”

  “As you can see,” Sara interjected, “there are slips of paper inside the jar, just like the ones we found in the basement and barn.” She held out the slip of paper naming Herschel as her father and handed it to Grandma. “I’m curious to know what you think of this.”

  Grandma’s lips moved slowly as she read the message to herself. “Oh Sara, I can’t believe your mother wrote down the name of your father. And now we know why she left without telling anyone who had fathered her child.”

  “Did you have any idea my mother was seeing a man named Herschel Fisher?” Sara’s lips quivered.

  Grandma shook her head. “I never heard that name until we met Jesse.” Her mouth opened as she let out a gasp. “Could his wife’s uncle be your father, Sara?”

  “I’m not completely sure, but I believe so.”

  “Then he needs to see this confession your mother wrote.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  Sara explained her reasons and ended by saying she wanted to go home and talk to Brad before making a decision about whether to confront Herschel or not.

  “That’s a good idea.” Grandma gave Sara a hug. “Prayer is always the first thing we should do when faced with a problem or an unanswered question.”

  “I agree with Grandma,” Lenore put in. “And we’ll be praying that you make the right decision.”

  Lancaster

  Sara paced the living-room floor, waiting for Brad to get home. He’d had a lunch meeting with some pastors from other churches in the area at noon. Following that, he was supposed to call on a few people from their congregation who were living in nursing homes. Sara could have called and asked him to come home right away, but she didn’t feel right about taking him away from his pastoral duties for something that was not an emergency.

  She looked out the front window. Even though it’s not critical, I sure wish my husband would hurry and get here. I need to talk with him about the note Lenore and I found in the buried prayer jar this morning, and I can’t make a decision on my own.

  Sara’s thoughts ran wild as she continued to pace and try to analyze things. She was filled with mixed emotions concerning her mother’s confession. She understood Mama’s decision to keep the identity of Sara’s father a secret, but at the same time, Sara felt cheated and more confused than ever.

  She stopped pacing and blotted the tears on her hot cheeks with a tissue. So many times in the past Sara had asked who her father was, but Mama always changed the subject or said it didn’t matter. Well, it mattered to Sara. All the years of not knowing who her biological father was had left an empty place in Sara’s heart.

  At the sound of Brad’s van coming up the drive, Sara hurried to the front door. When Brad entered the house a short time later, she threw herself into his arms. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re home.”

  He leaned down and gave her a kiss. “Now this is the kind of greeting that melts a man’s heart.”

  More tears sprang to Sara’s eyes, and she nearly choked on the sob rising in her throat.

  “Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  “I believe I know who my biological father is.”

  Brad’s eyes opened wide. “You do?”

  “Yes. He lives right here in Lancaster County.” Sara could barely speak the words without shouting.

  Brad guided her into the living room and onto the couch. “Who is it, and how did you find out?”

  Bringing a trembling hand to her forehead, Sara explained about the note she and Lenore had discovered. “And now that I’ve learned the name of my father, I don’t know what to do. Lenore said she could find out from Jesse where Herschel lives, but I can’t just barge over to his house and tell him about Mama’s note.” She paused and drew in a shaky breath. “What if he truly is my father, and he doesn’t want anything to do with me? After all, he chose some other woman to marry and dropped my mother flat.”

  Brad began to open his mouth, but Sara cut him off.

  “I can’t even imagine the horrible pain Mama must have felt when she found out she was carrying Herschel’s child and then learned he was planning to marry someone else. It’s no wonder she ran away without telling anyone where she was going. Mama obviously did not want anyone—especially Herschel—to know her whereabouts.”

  Brad shook his head. “She could have told her parents. From the time I first met the Lapps, I realized what good people they were. I think they would have understood and tried to help their daughter through her difficult time.”

  Sara sniffed and swiped at a few more tears that had fallen. “I believe you’re right, but poor Mama probably didn’t realize it back then. She was running on emotion and not thinking things through. No doubt she thought they would be embarrassed by their daughter’s mistake. And also,” Sara continued, “Grandma and Grandpa most likely would have insisted that Mama tell them who the father of her baby was.”

  “You may be right.”

  “Don’t you see, Brad, if my mother had revealed the father’s name, Grandpa would have gone to Herschel and tried to convince him to do the right thing and marry his daughter, regardless of whether Herschel cared anything about her or not.”

  Brad slowly nodded. “That may also be true, but we can’t change the past, honey. The question now is, do you want to speak with Herschel and let him know who you are—find out for sure if he is your father?”

  Sara rolled her neck from side to side. “I’m not sure. What do you think I should do?”

  Brad took hold of her hand. “The first thing we should do is pray and ask God to help you make the right decision and give you a sense of peace about whatever you decide.”

  “Okay.”

  As Brad prayed out loud on Sara’s behalf, a little voice in her head seemed to be saying she should wait to speak to Herschel, at least for now, and that if it was meant for her to do so, she would know when the time was right.

  Clymer

  Michelle’s contractions were stronger and more regular. It was time to alert Ezekiel. Despite the oppressing heat, she felt a chill as she headed out to his shop. What if giving birth is too painful and I never want to have another child? What if our baby is born with a birth defect? Would I have the strength to deal with it? Negative thoughts continued to swirl through Michelle’s head, each one making her more apprehensive. By the time she reached Ezekiel’s shop, Michelle was so worked up she felt light-headed.

  “What’s wrong?” Ezekiel asked as she approached his workbench. “Your face is so pale.”

  “I’m in labor,” she panted. “The pains are becoming more intense and closer together. I can’t believe how quickly they came on. This morning I had a few, and they weren’t regular or very painful.”

  Eyes wide, Ezekiel jumped up from his chair. “You’d better sit down right here and rest while I run out to the phone shack and call one of our drivers to bring the midwife and stand by in case there are any problems during the delivery and we end up having to make a trip to the hospital.” Ezekiel talked so fast, Michelle could hardly keep up with him. “I may have a lot of knowledge about bees, but I have no idea how to deliver a boppli!” He turned and raced out the door.

  As Michelle sat in her husband’s chair, trying to calm herself, she whispered a heartfelt prayer. “Heavenly Father, please help me not to be afraid, and”—
she placed both hands on her stomach—“and may this child of ours be born without complications.”

  Chapter 44

  Strasburg

  When Mary Ruth woke up the next morning, she was pleased to discover that her back hurt less than it had the previous day. But she hadn’t slept well the night before. While lying in bed awake, all she could think about was the note inside the prayer jar that her granddaughters had discovered beneath the garden soil. How many times had she dug around in that plot and never found the old jar?

  Mary Ruth stood in front of her bedroom window, staring out into the yard but barely taking notice of anything. If Willis were here right now, I wonder what he would say about all of this.

  She reached around and rubbed the small of her back. If she wasn’t careful, the stress of her conflicting emotions over Rhoda’s note might cause her back to spasm again. The idea that the uncle of Jesse Smucker’s late wife could actually be Sara’s father was hard to accept.

  Mary Ruth tapped her bare foot. I hope Sara decides to speak to Herschel Fisher about this, because we all need to know the truth. I have half a notion to seek him out myself and ask about his relationship with Rhoda. She shook her head. But that wouldn’t be right. I can’t go sticking my nose into this. It has to be Sara’s decision.

  Mary Ruth crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself. If he did father my daughter’s child, then we need to know why he became intimate with Rhoda and then moved on to someone else, as though his relationship with Rhoda meant nothing at all.

  She moved away from the window, took her clothes out of the closet, and placed them on the bed. Picking up her hairbrush, Mary Ruth gripped the handle tightly. Oh Rhoda, why couldn’t you have remained true to our biblical teachings and kept yourself pure?