~*~
The next morning, Lizzie got up extra early to make a peach pie for the girls. They would be surprised, but what she had in store would pale in comparison. She lit an oil lamp to illuminate the kitchen, and quickly got a fire going in her cook stove. Then she got out her mixing bowl. The look on the girls’ faces kept her moving as she quickly measured flour, salt, water, and butter and combined them to make her pastry dough.
Lizzie dusted the counter with flour and took half the dough to roll out. The other half would be the top. When she was finished, having put her canned peaches into the pie and topping it with a crust, she popped it into the oven, and then made coffee.
As it percolated in the coffee pot, the aroma itself seemed to make Lizzie wake up. She went to sit in a rocker in the living room for her morning devotions, but heard footsteps ascending the steps. Roman’s footsteps.
His disheveled auburn hair got all the more scattered as he came over to her, scratching his head. “What’s wrong? Why up so early?”
Lizzie held the Bible to her heart. “I have a surprise for the girls today.”
He rubbed his eyes. “What?”
“We’re celebrating Sister Day today. I have it all planned out.”
“They have school. Why today?”
“Marge is off today to drive us. And we’re going to an alpaca farm she knows about. Then out to lunch.”
“What will Marge do the whole time?”
“Be my sister.”
Roman lowered himself slowly into a chair opposite her. “Come again? I don’t understand.”
“I’ve been struggling with not having a sister to go out and celebrate with, and I just love Marge. The girls adore her, so we made plans.”
Roman leaned forward and took her hands. “Lizzie, Marge is not Amish. Do you think you should be so close with an outsider?”
Lizzie knew Roman wasn’t a demanding husband, never overbearing like some. She squeezed his hands. “If I’m tempted with English ways, I’ll soon find out, and won’t be… asking her to be like a sister.”
Roman got up and pulled her out of her rocker, and embraced her tenderly. “Seems like that book you read has unsettled you.”
“It opened my eyes to things lacking. I miss my mamm something awful.”
“How does that book help?”
“The book’s about a mamm with five daughters, so when reading it, I realized how much I miss not having her around. Discontentment floods me, but it’s good for me.”
Roman stroked her long brown hair. “How can that be goot?”
“It’s like the refiners fire. The dross in my heart comes to the surface, and I see it for what it is, and let God skim it off.”
“Making purer gold. I see.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her. “We’re all in need of refining, but you’re perfect to me.”
Lizzie reveled in the love her husband had for her. It sunk deep into her soul, and she never tired of it. He kissed her again, and kissing was something she never got tired of either. Some women have sisters, but not so happy a marriage. She had Roman; could his love fill the cracks in her heart? As they continued to show deep love to each other, she started to think he could.
~*~
After sprinkling white flour on her kitchen counter, Granny took a quarter of the pastry dough from her stainless steel bowl, and plopped it down to roll out. From the corner of her eye, she could see Colleen was doing the same: making pies side by side… but miles apart. “Colleen, what ails you?”
Colleen rolled the dough out into a perfect circle, having been taught how to bake a pie from Granny all summer. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think…”
“What?”
“I should have gone to pastry school, like I’d planned.”
“But I can teach you anything those schools teach.”
“Not fondant. Something I always wanted on my wedding cake...”
“What’s fondant?” Granny asked, rolling her dough until it was too thin.
“It’s icing that’s like dough in a way. You roll it up and place it over the cake. It looks so elegant, but I’m sure I’m not supposed to think about anything… fancy.”
The tone in Colleen’s voice Granny knew well. It was the sound of being trapped into dead rules that didn’t make sense. How Granny had had it out with other Amish women so legalistic with their rules that choked out love, joy and peace. She glanced over at Colleen. “Nothing’s wrong with icing like that. I’d like to learn.”
Colleen paused and she looked over at Granny. “Seriously?”
“Isn’t there a cookbook for it? I mean, if I get a recipe, I’m sure I can figure it out.”
Colleen held her head with one flour covered hand. “A fondant cake might look out of place with everything so plain around it.” After wiping her hands on a tea towel, she went to Granny’s oak table, and slowly sat down. “Granny, did the Amish wear plain clothes in the time of Jane Austen?”
Granny took her blue speckle ware teapot and filled it with water. “Well, I don’t know. She was poor, and I suppose she wore whatever she could sew, like we do. And she was looked down on by rich folk.”
Colleen leaned her head on one elbow and slouched. “I know it’s vain, but I wanted to wear a long white gown on my wedding day. But it’s not going to happen.”
“But it’s only one day, Colleen. Don’t set your mind on trifles.” Granny got up and took some cookies out of her cookie jar and placed them on the table.
“Is that an Amish proverb? If it is, it doesn’t make sense.” Colleen grabbed a cookie and took a bite.
“Nee, not a proverb, only old age speaking. With age comes wisdom, jah?” She chuckled. “And good books.” Granny bit into a milk chocolate square. “Jeb reads as much as me now, since Jonas moved next door. Jonas reads really deep books on theology and has Jeb reading one by Brother Lawrence. A Catholic.”
Colleen gasped. “Not a Protestant?”
“Weren’t any Protestants in Lawrence’s time. Anyhow, I’m getting sidetracked. This man wrote The Practice of the Presence of God. Lawrence was a monk who peeled potatoes and scrubbed floors, but folks were amazed by him, since he always seemed to show the fruits of the spirit all the time.”
Colleen nodded, eager for Granny to go on.
“So people asked him his secret, and he wrote the book. He was elderly, full of wisdom,” Granny winked, “and after reflecting over life, said that he feared trifles. You see, trifles are things that really don’t matter. They’re little things that make us stumble….”
“Like a wedding dress?”
“Jah, Colleen. It’s only one day. Would your love for Hezekiah be sacrificed because for one day you didn’t have a fancy dress?”
“Okay, I’m afraid I’ll lose myself if I turn Amish.”
“How so?”
“Well, I like fairytales, but they’re forbidden by the Amish. I grew up on them….”
Granny swatted the air. “A trifle. You can read other things.”
Colleen groaned. “What if the Ordnung said we could only read the Bible and no other books? Don’t you ever fear that?”
Granny eyes mellowed. “Ach, you don’t understand, do you? The Ordnung changes very slowly, when all are in agreement. We change at Easter, and won’t even celebrate the holiday if we’re not in agreement. Unity means more than anything, and love is what rules.”
Colleen bit her lower lip. “Not sure I understand.”
Granny rubbed the back of her neck. “Last year Jonas wanted a closed-in buggy, due to his MS and arthritis. But we Amish move as one, so after the Bishop said we couldn’t have them, due to expense, he told Jonas he’d have an English driver all winter, and the gmay would pay for it.”
Colleen’s eyebrows flew up. “Wow, that’s amazing.”
Granny felt tears sting her eyes, so she turned to make tea. “Colleen, the older I get, and the more I see how the world changes, I feel ever so blessed to be Amish. I shudder to think I
almost left.”
Silence filled the room, only the sound of hot water being poured into mugs.
“Granny…?”
She could sense the question. “Jah, when the clothes drier became popular, the Mennonites had them, and I wanted one, too. Now I see it was a trifle. “
“But you spend so much time washing clothes. I don’t think it’s a trifle.”
“Compared to the blessings I now enjoy being Amish, jah, it is a trifle.” Granny turned and put two mugs on the table. “I made yours black, just how you like it.” Granny saw the bewilderment in Colleen’s eyes, and wondered how to explain what she meant. What Colleen needed to learn. She stared at the bowl of apples on the table, and slowly looked up. “Colleen, if you had to choose right now to have an apple or land to have an apple orchard, what would you pick?”
“What?”
“Just answer the question. Pretend you’ve been on a diet of cornmeal mush, with a tad of bacon, and you’re hungry. Would you pick an apple to eat, or land to grow an orchard?”
Colleen took a deep breath. “Well, I like cornmeal and bacon, so I’d just take the land and make an orchard.”
“But orchards take time, lots of patience and hard work.”
“But I’d have lots of apples in the end.”
Granny tapped the table with her fingers. “Do you see the connection?”
Colleen groaned again. “No.”
Granny reached for her hand and squeezed it. “One apple will satisfy you for a minute or two. It’s a trifle. But having an orchard takes years and you’ll have good and bad times while growing it. An orchard isn’t a trifle, some fleeting whim or passion.”
Colleen squeezed Granny’s hand. “I understand. A wedding dress is one day, like you said, an orchard is a long commitment, like marriage.”
“Well, jah. You can fill your life with things that don’t really matter that come easy, is what I meant, but marriage is like an orchard. You have dry times, harvest, planting again. Ach, Colleen, I didn’t even see that.”
“Granny, maybe it’s why you like Jane Austen so much. One thing I won’t be missing is sappy love stories I used to read. They fall in love on the first page and live happily after ever.”
Granny grinned. “Like a fairytale?”
Colleen got up and ran around the table, hugging Granny from behind. “I’m so glad I have you. I feel so much better.”
~*~
Granny was exhausted after Colleen left, and needed to rest her eyes before preparing the noon meal for Jeb. So, she went into her bedroom with some knitting in hand, knowing it relaxed her and she’d soon be asleep in her rocker.
She took the black yarn she’d spun from her black sheep, and started to make Jeb his special scarf for the months ahead, that would be freezing. Granny felt so full in her heart. Helping resolve some of Colleen’s problems did her heart good. To help carry another’s burden was a blessing not everyone knew about.
The image of Mona flashed before her. That woman did not know one was more blessed to give than receive. How many times had Mona stayed in her room while Fannie and Eliza put up half the harvest? And her poor husband, how could he live with such a woman?
Forgive me Lord. I need to recondition my mind about Mona. I do pray that when she reads Little Women, she’ll see how wonderful a mamm the girls have; a selfless woman who puts others first.
And Lord, once again, I cast Maryann on you. I don’t know why the fear of her cancer coming back keeps gnawing at me. I give all my knitting friends to you, Lord, for you care for them all.
In Jesus name,
Amen.
Dear Readers,
Thank you for joining Granny and her girls for their new knit lit circle. I leave my dear readers with a recipe for milk chocolate bars. Enjoy!
Milk Chocolate Bars
1 c. brown sugar
½ c. butter
½ c. milk
1 tsp. baking powder
2 eggs, beaten
1 ½ c. flour
1 tsp. salt
½ tsp. soda
1 pkg. chocolate chips
1 c. nuts
Mix all ingredients and bake at 350 degrees for twenty-five minutes.
Episode 2
Little Women
Little Bea jumped up on Granny’s lap and licked her face. “Nee, you sit on your little rug.” She pointed to the rag rug she’d picked up at Emma Miller’s Quilt Shop. If anyone knew it was for her little dog, she’d never hear the end of it. It was just an extra rug to scatter over the hardwood floors that grew cold in the winter, she convinced herself.
Bea put her bushy black tail between her legs and slowly made her way over to the blue rug.
“Ach, Deborah. She’s afraid,” Jeb said, getting up to retrieve the dog.
“She needs to learn her manners. Let her be.”
Jeb leaned over the little black Pomeranian and pet her head. “Daed’s got a treat for you later…”
Granny rolled her eyes and hoped Jeb would never slip and say such a thing when folks visited. Having a dog call you “daed”. Ridiculous. But then, she had rocked the dog like a mamm would…
Jeb returned to the table and took a sip of coffee. “So, what are you doing today, besides having the circle?”
“Well, I’m volunteering at the Baptist Church, so we’re having knitting at four o’clock today.” Granny took a bite of oatmeal, but was shaken when Jeb started to cough….or choke? She sprang to her feet and slapped his back. “Jeb, you okay?”
After a coughing fit that seemed to last forever to Granny, Jeb sputtered, “You’re getting involved in the Baptist Church? I must draw a line.”
“Ach, Jeb. I’m not going to one of their Bible studies, although I hear Jerry preaches mighty goot. Don’t you know what tomorrow is?”
“Thursday. I’m not daft, and Wednesday is the day the Baptist have their Bible study.” He jabbed at his oatmeal. “Deborah, I just won’t have it.”
“Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, you old fool. And the Baptists are having a dinner for the needy at noon.”
Jeb’s eyes mellowed a bit. “Why not have it tomorrow?”
“So the families running it can eat Thanksgiving dinner with their own families.”
Jeb pulled at his long gray beard. “Needy people around Smicksburg? I don’t see any homeless here.”
“Well, they’re not homeless, but have fallen on such hard times, affording a nice turkey dinner is just too much for some.”
Jeb gawked. “Really? We eat beef almost every night and chicken’s like second best. Ach, I didn’t know.” He looked over at Bea. “We took in a starving dog, but never thought folks around here were hungry.”
“And they don’t have the support we have in the Amish community. Jerry and Janice do a fine job though, helping people whether they’re Baptist or not.”
Jeb put his spoon down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said. The Baptist help people –“
“It’s your tone of voice. You’re implying the Amish should be helping people outside our Gmay…”
“Jah, I am. “
The woodpecker who made its home at Granny’s suet feeder tapped outside, out of sync with the pendulum clock.
“We give money to Christian Aid in Berlin, Ohio. And that money goes far. Have you read the latest newsletter, about how they helped the Hurricane Sandy victims?”
“Ach, Jeb, you’re right. You write out the checks, so I forget at times that we are doing our part. But, there’s other ways to help.”
“How?”
“Well, do you know the English don’t know how to do basic things to save money, like making sausage with a meat grinder? They pay top dollar at Punxsy-Mart for meat that’s not even goot for them, not realizing they’re wasting money.”
“Why isn’t the meat goot? Do they sell bad meat?”
“Well, Marge and Joe were surprised when they had their turkeys slaughtered, saying they didn’t taste like
chemicals. They’d never eaten organic meat before. So I was thinking that we could feed an extra beef cow all winter, and share it. Maybe even teach the men how to make jerky.”
Jeb’s eyes lit up. “I could show them the smoke house when the weather gets better. Teach them how to buy a pig at the auction to make hams.” He took Granny’s hand and kissed it. “You’ve got a heart big enough for two people. Danki.”
The side door blew open and Jenny appeared, her nose red from the cold air. “Oma. I can’t wait to go to go to the Baptist Church today and help. I’ll be like one of the March girls in Little Women.”
Granny’s heart melted as her eight year old granddaughter said these words. The book Lizzie bought her, age appropriate, was bringing the best out in Jenny, just like good literature was supposed to do.
“A March girl?” Jeb teased. “Does she march?”
“Nee, Opa.” Jenny giggled. “It’s their last name in the book.” She twirled around. “It’s one of the best book’s I’ve read. The March family almost seemed Amish.”
“How so?” Granny asked.
Jenny came to the table and took a seat next to Jeb. “Well, they sewed their own clothes, made most of their food, rode on horses, and didn’t have electricity. Lots of things.”
Jeb patted her shoulder. “It’s how people have been living for a long time. We haven’t changed, the English have. People have never had so many conveniences. “
Jenny tilted her head to one side, as if deep in thought. “So why aren’t people happy? The English have one face at Punxsy-Mart. It looks like this.” Jenny furrowed her eyebrows and scrunched her lips.
Granny nodded. “They look anxious, Jenny. Jah, I know. Maybe all the modern things have taken them from the land and nature and make them nervous. That’s what I think.”
“Me too. And it’s why I’m excited to go help today. Mamm’s made so many mashed potatoes; my daed’s going to have to help her load the buggy.”
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 Page 60