~*~
Basic White Cake
2½ c. flour
1 2/3 c. sugar
2/3 c. shortening
1 tsp. salt
¾ c. milk
4 ½ tsp. baking powder
5 eggs whites, unbeaten
½ c. milk
1 tsp. vanilla
Sift dry ingredients. Add shortening and milk and then beat. Add remaining ingredients. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Insert toothpick to see if done.
Episode 3
Anne Of Green Gables
“‘God's in his heaven; all's right with the world,'" whispered Anne softly.
Granny held the book to her chest and took in the aroma of the morning coffee percolating in the blue speckle ware pot. Lord, give me the confidence Anne has; after losing Matthew. She knows You are in control. Lord, I fear too much. Forgive me.
The eggs sizzling in the skillet wafted a burnt scent, and she plunked the book on the table and ran to her stove, flipping the eggs over, just in time. Taking a mug, she poured a cup of coffee and sat down in the rocker near the window. The little snowbirds were back; the plain little gray and white birds, so gentle and timid. She wanted to go shoo the bluebirds that chased them from her feeder. Granny narrowed her gaze at a lone junco, and marveled at the book she’d just read, Anne of Green Gables. Anne had been like a helpless bird, but with love and community, along with her lack of self-pity, she was as beautiful as an indigo bunting or red finch. And Marilla, her adoptive mom, had learned to laugh and not be a crank. Could Mona learn this lesson?
Then she thought of Maryann, and the tests she needed to have tomorrow. Was ‘All right with the world’, as Anne bravely stated? The past few weeks had prompted Granny to put out more birdseed, since the feathered creatures calmed her nerves. Maryann’s symptoms back, just like a nightmare. If her tests were positive tomorrow and the cancer had returned, would it mean more surgery, or worse? Was the cancer contained?
Granny massaged the back of her neck and tried to relax, but her mind wandered to the one on one talks she’d had with Marge while making pies. Her bubbly English friend unfolded such a wounded spirit, and it grieved Granny to her core. Guilt over an abortion she’d had while yet a young girl had plagued her to the point where everything Marge did was driven by guilt. Being a nurse wasn’t her first choice, but saving lives to redeem herself for the little one she’d aborted, was not something the good Lord would want. And not wanting children, fearing she’d hurt or abuse her own child, guilt left such serious effects on her lovely friend. Granny didn’t know what to say except scripture, since she knew it healed a heart, and set it free.
But for Granny to bare her soul to her Lord this morning, she needed to cast off her greatest care: Jeb. He was seventy-three now, and like he said, it seemed closer to seventy-five and that seemed like eighty. Matthew in Anne of Green Gables died over worry, really. Losing his money in a failed bank. Isn’t that what Jeb and Roman talked about in hushed tones as if she couldn’t hear? Sales were so slow for Christmas and the fiscal cliff that was feared by the Amish and English alike. Even Fannie had said that her store was slow, folks buying the bare minimum, hanging on to their purses.
Jeb would be out for his breakfast soon, Bea in tow, so she opened her Bible for her morning quiet time. Even though she’d memorized this scripture long ago, still she needed to read it at times:
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. 1 Timothy 2:7
Granny clamped her eyes shut.
Lord, I am fearful and need to trust you. You put your power, love and a mind not given to worry in me through your Spirit. Help me, for it’s just one of those days when I feel like hiding from the world, staying in bed reading a goot book, or knitting. But, I have knitting circle this afternoon, and I am your hands and feet to a hurting world, as feeble as they are.
Bea ran up to her, big brown eyes hopeful to get a belly rub. Granny scooped her up and held her like a baby, rocking her.
“I think she needs a friend,” Jeb said, after a long yawn. “She tuckers me out.”
“How so?”
“She’s like a little kinner, always wanting attention. And getting up at night to let her out, well, it brings back memories…”
“Jeb, you never got up at night to tend to the kinner.”
“I heard the crying. And when you were too tired, jah, I did get up and help.” He made his way over to the coffee pot. “Did you get some?”
“Jah, but could use another. These old bones…”
“I’m older, remember.” He poured coffee into two mugs and set them on the table. “Come over here and tell me what you’re fretting about.”
Granny put Bea down, joined Jeb at the table, and sipped her coffee. “Who said I’m fretting? Lizzie?”
“Nee, you talked in your sleep last night. And you must have had a bad dream.”
She gripped the mug. “I did. I was…”
“Throwing dirt on my coffin. Deborah, you threw dirt on me.”
Jeb’s attempt to make her laugh failed. “It was your funeral and it was red roses that I threw…since…”
Jeb reached across the table and took her hand. “Love, I hope we go at the same time, but most likely one of us will go first.” He gripped her hand tighter. “But we’re not to worry about tomorrow, jah? There’s enough trouble in one day?”
Granny shook her head. “I can’t help it. I never thought we’d get this old, and to think of you gone…”
“God gives his help when it’s needed. We’re still together, so we don’t need it now. Remember when you saw your mamm going downhill, and you cried yourself to sleep a year before she passed?”
Granny nodded.
“Well, on the day she passed, you said it was as if God was lifting you, carrying you in a way you didn’t expect.”
Granny gave a faint smile.
“Trust God and don’t go borrowing trouble…”
Granny pursed her lips and then met his eyes. “And you know I have a tendency to do that…”
“We all do, Love. We all do.”
Bea hopped onto Granny’s lap and nuzzled her face into Granny’s bosom, fast asleep, not a care in the world. The little dog had learned to trust Jeb and her. By her age, why did she still not believe God would take care of her? Was it the human condition to fret about life, even until your dying day? Was there something in every heart that said, God I really don’t think you care and I can manage on my own? Like the first sin in the Garden of Eden?
~*~
Ruth finished washing the morning dishes and started to wipe down the counters, but as fatigue washed over her, she had to make her way over to her rocker by the window and sit down. She noticed a downy woodpecker bobbing its head back and forth as it jabbed at the suet feeder, and for some reason she felt dizzy.
Luke came down the stairs and planted a kiss on her cheek before he left for work. “You feel warm.” He put his lips on her forehead. “You have a fever, and you don’t look goot.”
Ruth put a hand up in protest. “I’m fine. Just resting for a spell.”
Luke ran up the steps and soon returned with a thermometer. “You’re pregnant and may need to see the doc. Open up.”
Ruth obeyed as Luke placed the thermometer gently in her mouth. He pulled up a chair next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’re not that busy at the woodshop. I can take care of you.”
Her heart swelled with love for her dear husband. To think that last year this time, she left him for a few months. His cruel behavior towards her had made the elders and bishop get involved, and she thanked God daily for their intervention. How lovingly they’d restored her husband, and with some medical help for his anxiety disorder, he’d become the man she truly loved from her heart.
He took the thermometer out as it beeped. “Ach, you have a fever. It’s one-hundred one.” He helped her up out of her rocker and up the steps back into bed. “I’m staying hom
e to keep an eye on you.”
Ruth couldn’t help but smile, but her throbbing head soon caused her to wince. “Danki. Can you lower the blinds? My eyes hurt.”
Luke quickly lowered all the white shades in the room and soon darkness soothed Ruth’s aching eyes. She pointed to their dresser. “Can you give me that book?”
“It’s dark in here, and you’re sick.”
“I need to finish it by this afternoon. I have knitting circle.”
“You’re not going,” Luke commanded gently. “You’re carrying our boppli, and need to take care of the two of you.”
She hated to miss knitting circle, but knew he was right.
Luke gave her a knowing look. “I’ll read to you.” He chuckled. “You’re near the end and want to know what happens, jah?”
She nodded, and then relaxed on the bed as Luke opened the book to where she’d dog-eared the page. He cleared his throat and began to read:
“‘Halfway down the hill a tall lad came whistling out of a gate before the Blythe homestead. It was Gilbert, and the whistle died on his lips as he recognized Anne. He lifted his cap courteously, but he would have passed on in silence, if Anne had not stopped and held out her hand.
“‘Gilbert,’ she said, with scarlet cheeks, "I want to thank you for giving up the school for me. It was very good of you--and I want you to know that I appreciate it.”
“‘Gilbert took the offered hand eagerly.
“‘It wasn't particularly good of me at all, Anne. I was pleased to be able to do you some small service. Are we going to be friends after this? Have you really forgiven me my old fault?’
“Anne laughed and tried unsuccessfully to withdraw her hand.
“‘I forgave you that day by the pond landing, although I didn't know it. What a stubborn little goose I was. I've been--I may as well make a complete confession--I've been sorry ever since.’"
Ruth quickly gasped for air as tears stung her eyes.
Luke put down the book. “What’s wrong?”
She motioned for him to come near her, and he sat on the bed and took her hand. She kissed his hand and let tears fall on it. “I-I was a stubborn goose…all last winter.”
Luke didn’t say anything, but it seemed like healing had come from her words.
“I wasn’t quick to forgive, like the Bible says to do. I knew you’d changed, but I made you sleep in Micah’s room all winter, and I held such…bitterness towards you.”
Luke sighed. “Ruth, we look forward, jah?”
“Jah, but when I read about Anne and how stubborn she was and how she outgrew it, I’m ashamed. I was a grown woman last winter and acted like a child.”
“Nee, you acted like a hurting woman. I sinned and it left a scar on you.”
“I sinned by wanting to punish you. I made your life miserable…”
Luke put his hand over her mouth to stop her from talking. “You rest now, and don’t get all worked up over the past. We love each other, and love covers a multitude of sins.” He felt her forehead again. “I’m getting you some medicine to bring this fever down and a cup of tea. If it doesn’t come down, we’re headed to the docs for sure.”
He embraced her and cradled her head against his chest. “I love you so much,” he whispered into her ear, and Ruth felt a weight lift off her heart. Confession was good for the soul.
~*~
Colleen hitched the horse to the post Suzy had outside her store. Still a little shaky about driving a buggy, she knew she’d find solace as she worked part-time in the yarn shop. Being around yarn all day, one day a week, would give Suzy time to teach spinning, dying and harder knitting techniques. While attending baptismal classes and studying the material Jeb gave as homework, Colleen found that the craft of knitting calmed her spirit enough to take in all the deep truths of scripture, and the book she was reading, Anne of Green Gables.
When she opened the door, the familiar bell rang and Suzy looked up cheerfully from her knitting. “Good morning, Colleen. So glad to have you here.” She got up and went to Colleen, giving her a quick hug. “Can I take your…robe?”
“It’s a cape,” Colleen said with a wry smile. “And this is my new winter outer bonnet.” She unlaced the black strings from under her chin and handed the heavy hat to Suzy.
Suzy made her way to the back of the shop to hang up the garments. “Colleen, don’t you miss, well, dressing in style?”
Colleen shook her head. “No. Well, sometimes, but Granny helped me see that fashion is all a trifle.”
“Isn’t a trifle a dessert?”
“Yes, but it also means something not important.” She placed her hands on her heart. “What really matters is in here: inner beauty.”
Suzy lifted her hands up as if in surrender. “Can’t say that I can go that far, since I design the garments I knit, but everyone has their own views.” She pointed to the boxes on the floor. “You can start by unpacking the yarn and putting it on the shelves, and then I need things dusted.”
Colleen went to work, if that’s what it was called. Suzy had a tea break at ten, and when customers came in, Colleen was encouraged to talk to them, so they’d feel at home. No, she did not “work” at Suzy’s; she enjoyed herself. Or was it that Amish ways were rubbing off on her? Work and pleasure were combined, as most Amish loved what they did for a living, finding their God given talents. Her mind turned again towards the book she’d just finished. “So, Suzy, did you like Anne of Green Gables?”
Suzy, who had continued her knitting, never looked up while engrossed in work. “I love that book. Rings true today as it did when it was written. Did you know it was a Sunday school paper first?”
“Really? It’s not all that religious, though”
“Well, it’s like a long parable of sorts. It shows a girl feeling totally alone in the world, wondering if God even saw her, and she ends up seeing that God was in control of her life. Understand?”
Colleen had felt alone in life, and flashbacks of her childhood were drudged up when she read the part about Anne having a window friend. She’d shared this with Hezekiah, and her grandma, but would Suzy think she was weird?
“What’s on your mind?” Suzy asked.
“Oh, nothing really.”
“Come on now…” Suzy prodded.
“Well, you know my parents were drug addicts, and I didn’t have the happiest childhood.” Colleen slowly placed more black yarn on a shelf. “I had window friends like Anne. I had no one else to talk to.”
Suzy put her knitting down. “Want some tea? We can talk about this.”
Colleen shook her head. “Tea is at ten, jah?” She attempted to make Suzy smile by using an Amish accent, but the compassion in Suzy’s eyes made her want to find comfort. “I’ll talk about it while I work.”
Suzy nodded. “Well, you know there’s always tea in the back, and I even got some fancy sugar cubes, just for our tea time. Our first Jane Austen tea.”
Colleen went over to Suzy and hugged her from behind. “Thank you. I know you really care. Wish you were my mom…”
Suzy put one hand up to her eyes and started to fan vigorously. “Now, don’t make me cry. I feel tears coming on.”
After another squeeze, Colleen resumed her work. “Well, like I said, my parents were addicts. They had their druggy friends over, and I hid in the closet. So I had closet friends…like make believe friends I suppose…”
“And how old were you when you had these imaginary friends? Twelve, like Anne?”
She gripped the yarn, knowing there was healing in being transparent, but to verbalize her pain made her relive it. “Until I started cutting myself as a teenager. It made me feel…not dead. When I realized my imaginary friends weren’t real, I felt too alone, and pretty numb. It’s better to feel pain than feel dead.”
Suzy pursed her lips, raised her eyebrows high, trying not to cry. “So, you were like Anne, and our church is like Matthew and Marilla?”
Colleen hadn’t thought of this before. The ve
ry people who took her in as a single mom, she’d abandoned to be Amish. “I’ll be forever grateful to the Baptist church, honestly.”
“Oh, Colleen, everyone who has eyes can see you and Hezekiah were made for each other, and your grandma is Amish. But sometimes you work hard, reaching out in a church, and don’t see much outcome. We’re all thrilled for you. Remember, Amish and Baptists are both Christians, and that’s what binds us, jah?”
Colleen grinned through tears that pooled in her eyes. “Jah. Wir sind eins in dem Herrn …
Suzy laughed. “I’ve picked up some German living here in Amish-land USA. “You’re saying something about the Lord, jah?”
“Good,” Colleen quipped. “I said, ‘We are one in the Lord. My grandma and aunts only speak German in the home, and it’s pretty easy to pick up.” Her grandma’s kindness only accentuated her own mother’s cruelty. How could her grandma give birth to such a woman? “Suzy, since we’re both plain old Christians, what do you think about forgiveness?”
Suzy cocked an eyebrow. “Correction. I am not plain or old.” She winked. “But as far as forgiveness is concerned, the Lord doesn’t give us much wiggle room.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s no way of getting out of it. Jesus said to forgive seventy times seven in one day! That’s a lot of forgiving.”
When Colleen thought of forgiving her mother and dad, her stomach turned into a knot. “So you agree with the Amish? About radical forgiveness?”
“I agree with the Bible about forgiveness. The Amish didn’t invent it, but they practice it better than any Christian denomination I’ve seen. Seems like an option in most churches.” Suzy looked down and knit quickly. “We all work on it. I have to visit Prissy sometime today, and let me tell you, I don’t go skipping over there. Sometimes I wait until Dave has time to go because he drags me over. That woman…. Well, you see, forgiveness isn’t a warm and fuzzy feeling. It’s a verb.”
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 64