“No offense taken at all.”
“But we can’t afford computers and all that fancy stuff,” Marge blurted, “and I like it simple.”
Granny noticed Jerry had bloodshot eyes that protruded a little too much. “Jerry, is there anything we can do to help you? Make meals and take them over to Forget-Me-Not?”
Jerry snapped his fingers and laughed. “I need to tell someone or I’ll bust”
“Tell us what?” Granny was now feeling shaken. Had Jerry lost his mind completely?
“We have an anonymous donor to the church. And it’s not a little donation, but, well, more than the Amish auction brings in every August.”
Granny got her yarn out of her satchel and started to knit to calm herself. Obviously Jerry was delusional and it pained her deeply.
Marge leaned forward. “How much does the Amish auction bring in?”
“Seventeen-thousand, last year,” Granny said.
Jerry jerked his head from side to side, clapped his hands as if doing a happy dance. “Well, take that times ten…. at least.”
Janice entered the room, a suitcase in her hand. “Morning everyone. Brought you some fresh stuff, honey.”
“Is he staying long?” Granny asked.
“No, he’ll be monitored until tomorrow, then free to go home.”
Granny got up and took Janice by the elbow out into the hallway. “He needs to stay for a while, don’t you think?”
Janice frowned. “The docs say he’s fine…”
“But he’s obviously not. Telling all kinds of stories and I’m concerned.”
“What kind of stories?”
“Ridiculous things, like someone donating over a hundred-thousand dollars to your church.”
Janice’s face froze, and then she burst into laughter. “I see. You think he’s gone off his rocker.”
“Jah, and maybe you, too. You English work yourselves to no end. You need to rest on the Sabbath….”
Janice continued to laugh as she went into the hospital room. “Honey, Granny thinks we’ve gone nuts, telling such stories about money. Remember, the donor is anonymous. Don’t go blabbing.”
Marge got up and put her hands on her hips. “Yinz are making hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Are you both hallucinating?”
Janice wiped a tear and calmed herself down. “Sorry. We’re overjoyed. Jerry did have to come in for IV treatments, being dehydrated and lacking minerals. He’s been exhausted. But last night we got word about an anonymous donor to the church.” She looked over at Jerry. “I talked to this donor this morning, and it’s more than we thought… by a long shot. She has a lawyer involved…”
“That’s fine. We need to be accountable.” Jerry rested his head on his pillow. “How much more are we talking about?”
“Twice as much as we thought.”
Jerry put his hand over his heart as if to protect it. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Lord…”
Marge jumped on her tiptoes and then took a seat. “What will the church do with the money?”
“It’s earmarked for the homeless and other things. Jerry and I sat up late into the night, and we think a place for homeless men is needed. But we’re obviously in shock, so we need to settle down, pray, talk to the elders.”
“Safety in a multitude of counselors,” Granny added.
“Absolutely. Jerry and I won’t take any pay increase, that’s for sure. With this much money, we might find ourselves discontent.”
Marge’s mouth gaped. “You deserve a raise.”
“No, we have enough. Not rich, but not poor.” Janice took Jerry’s hand. “And this big lug gives away any extra anyhow.”
Jerry smiled at Janice, and Granny soaked in this wonderful scene; a content English family.
The image of Nathan’s farm flashed across her mind. Should she tell them it was for sale? Or was this all too much for Jerry? I’ll wait, she decided. Maybe Nathan will change his mind and come home to Smicksburg… where he belongs.
~*~
That afternoon, Granny sipped piping hot tea as she sat in her rocker as close to the woodstove as she could without catching on fire. She thought back to Little Women and how Jo burnt the back of her dress, being too close to the fire, and delight flooded her soul. These classic books had been her treasures, and to share them with her ‘circle of friends’ made her joy overflow. But that it took some of the girls so long to understand the meaning behind Emma still baffled her. Emma was a work in progress, like every human being. It’s what gives her such appeal, Granny thought.
She sipped her peppermint tea, good for sore throats. She’d felt ragged and a scratchy throat was a sign to rest. Granny’s mind again went to Nathan’s house. She could still walk to it, even at her age. Why was he staying in Montana? She bowed her head, sorry that she was being selfish. Her own son, Nathan Sr., of course would want to have his son raise a family near him. But… how she loved her grandson and Lavina. Your will be done, Lord.
Feeling a headache come on, Granny bowed her head and prayed:
Lord,
I am made of dust, as you well know. I have feet of clay, able to fall at any time. And I fear I’m being selfish concerning Nathan. I love him and want him living down the road, but have your way. He has his whole life ahead of him and I want the best for him… and you know best.
And Lord, thank you for the gift the anonymous donor is giving the Baptists. Give them wisdom on exactly how to use it, and bless their efforts to help those in need.
Lord, whatever has come over Mona, please continue to work in her heart. I feel like there’s much I don’t know, but Fannie and Maryann are your hands and feet to that woman. I used to have contempt for her, I admit, but now only pity. And you know I don’t pity too many people, since we all have our cross to bear, as you did. But she seems mighty lost….
I give this day to you in Jesus name,
Amen.
Granny looked out the window and sunbeams burst through thick clouds, making rays glide over to the woods behind her house. She spotted something red coming down her driveway. As it got closer with rapid speed, she saw Marge’s red sports car. Ach, she drives like a crazy person. Most likely she’d left something in the car and she was returning it, so why the rush?
Soon Marge slammed her door, ran up the porch steps and threw open her side door. “Fannie had a baby girl!”
“What? It’s too early…”
“No, only three weeks. The baby’s fine. A healthy baby girl.”
Granny went over and embraced Marge. “That’s goot news. And Fannie is okay?”
“Yes, she’s beaming with joy.”
Granny didn’t know if Marge was exhausted from driving her to the hospital this morning, and then go off to work, but there was a shadow cast across her eyes. “Marge, what is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on now…”
Marge’s eyes pooled with tears. “I really wanted my baby. The miscarriage hits me at the oddest times. I’m selfish.”
Granny led her by the elbow over to her kitchen table. “You’re not selfish, just have a mamm’s heart. You loved that wee one in you, who went home early to be with Jesus.”
Marge sat at the table, head bowed. “But it hurts.”
Granny reached for her hand across the table. “Hurt isn’t all bad. I started the knitting circle because of pain.”
“What?”
“Jah, many don’t know how sad I was that all my kinner moved out of state except Roman. God took Abigail, his first wife, too, and I loved her so. God gives and takes away, as Job says in the Bible, blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Marge sighed. “But I’m sure the knitting circle doesn’t stop you from missing your kids.”
Granny grinned. “Ach, it does. Somehow it does. And you and Lizzie wanting to take foster kinner might fill that longing in your heart for having kinner.”
Marge squeezed her hand. “Wish I was still your neighbor.”
Granny th
ought again of Nathan’s house. Marge used to live in the dawdyhaus in the back, and the farmhouse could be used for foster kids or homeless men. And maybe Marge and Joe could be the ones the Baptists hired to help. Her heart leapt for joy at the prospect, but she didn’t mention anything to Marge. Granny knew she had a way of running ahead of God on making “His will happen.” How many couples had she tried to pair up, being a matchmaker? Like Emma, she too had grown up.
Dear Readers,
I hope you enjoyed this episode of Amish Knit-Lit Circle. Emma continues to be one of my favorite books since it shows a flawed woman being transformed. We all know her journey isn’t over, too, Emma being human. As I receive emails from readers, many of you can identify with Emma, feeling a little too blemished. Remember,
The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17.
I have a plaque with this verse written on it within view as I write. I too know I’m “hopelessly flawed” as Jo March puts it. But I also know God loves me, despite all my prickles. And He loves you, too, friends.
This recipe is appropriate to end Emma, since Robert Martin collected walnuts for Harriet, and Mr. Knightley supplied poor Miss Bates with apples. And my very own Mr. Knightley made it up! This is a secret (LOL), but my husband taught me how to cook! Enjoy!
Spiced Baked Apples
Core as many apples as you want to serve and place in glass baking dish deep enough to cover
Fill each with equal parts chopped walnuts and raisins
Top with a tsp. of brown sugar.
Cover with aluminum foil to keep from drying.
Bake at 350 for 30-40 minutes or until tender.
Eat without guilt due to low fat and calories
Episode 6
Black Beauty
Granny grabbed the coffeepot as Jeb cracked another knuckle. Slowly pouring the black liquid into his mug, she heard another sigh escape his lips. “Jeb, it will be alright. Believe me. I have a mamm’s heart.”
“Thought that would make it harder,” he said, jabbing at his French toast.
“Nee, a mamm sees past all her kinner’s faults, or handicaps.”
“Mona doesn’t, jah?”
“Well, most mamms. And Mona’s changing, so don’t be so harsh.”
“You’re defending Mona?” Jeb got up, raised his hands and shouted, “Hallelujah!”
Granny hit his arm. “Old man. Don’t mock God.”
“I’m not. I’m truly thankful.”
“Your nerves are in a whirl ever since we got word about Ruth’s boppli.” Granny pulled at his sleeve as she sat down at the table, bringing Jeb down to his seat again. “Now, like I said, it will be fine.”
Jeb groaned. “I’m not worried about Ruth. She’s the predictable one. It’s Luke…”
Granny bit her lower lip. “Hadn’t thought much on that. But a kinner with down syndrome is what the Lord has blessed them with, and we can’t change things.”
He gripped her hand. “Be honest with me. This is going to be a long journey for them. They’ll be caring for that child all their lives.”
It was a rare time when Jeb fretted, Granny knew, so she just remained quiet until he released his concern.
Now being February, robins were spotted in yards all over Smicksburg. The braver robins, granny supposed, the hardy ones. Lord, bless Ruth and Luke as they continue to build their nest…“I learned something while reading Black Beauty. We really have no control over our lives, just like a horse.”
“What?”
“Well, Black Beauty was a goot horse, but he was really at the mercy of his masters. And he had kind ones and not so kind. We have a master in heaven who’s always goot, jah? And no matter how it looks we know everything can be worked out for the goot?”
Jeb’s eyes mellowed a bit. “Jah. I suppose.”
“You suppose?”
Jeb lowered his head and folded his hands in his lap. “I’m the bishop, so maybe I feel things more keenly. I’m praying for the right words to say when we visit, and I’m pretty stumped…”
Not knowing if she should interrupt his train of thought, Granny hesitated saying what she thought was really bothering him. “Can I help?”
“Pray I have the words to bring some comfort. Words of hope and practical ways to put our faith into action.”
“Such as?”
“Well, I don’t know. Does she need more tests? To confirm the diagnosis?”
“Well, that I don’t know. We could always have a benefit auction.”
“Jah, that would be goot.” He looked over at her, eyes turquoise, deep with emotion. “And your knitting circle can make things for the boppli?”
Granny’s brow wrinkled. “Make things? Like what?”
“I don’t know. Those prayer shawls you make… make it a prayer blanket for the boppli.”
“Ella did that for the twins. Okay, I can do that.” She grabbed his hand. “Jeb, this is not the same as when we lost our girl. You’re still mourning her loss, after all these years.”
Jeb pursed his quivering lips. “Nee, I’m just concerned.”
Tears brewed in Granny’s eyes. “It’s alright. I still think of her. When Black Beauty was taken away from his mamm, I thought I was ferhoodled in the head because I started to cry. Imagine that? And when Beauty thought back to happier times and his mamm, I wondered if our little one can see us from heaven. If she just can’t wait to be with us.”
Jeb cupped his face in his hands and let the tears flow. Granny sprang up and hugged him from behind. Leaning her chin on his shoulder, she whispered, “God will give them grace to carry them through, just like us. And they have a beautiful daughter, unique and special.”
His shoulders trembled and Granny felt insecure. Jeb was her rock, her strong man. He’d been out tying up the roses onto the lattice that ran around the porch, making room to divide and plant yet another bush, an heirloom rose he bought for this year’s planting. Did the pain of losing a kinner ever really go away? The Amish didn’t plant flowers on the graves of their lost ones, yet she found such solace and peace in these roses that now encircled the house.
“You think Luke did everything he could? Get the midwife on time and all?”
Granny pat his shoulder. “Jah. Why?”
“Maybe they should have had the kinner at the hospital. Maybe we should have had our girl at the hospital. Maybe the English are right about the Amish…” Another sob escaped him as Jeb wiped his tears with a napkin. “Maybe we are stuck back in the Dark Ages.”
Granny felt her heart jump into her throat, making it hard to talk. “Some Englishers say that, but Jeb, kinner die in the hospital, you know that. And lots of English have midwives deliver their kinner at home.” She gripped his shoulders hard. “I listen to you correct me, Mr. Knightley, and now I’m going to do the same. Stop trying to carry a burden that’s not yours. Only God has the strength to lift it. Remember in Pilgrim’s Progress when Christian finds relief from the burden he carried on his back at the Cross? Leave it there, Jeb. Lay it down.”
To her surprise his shoulders softened, and he pat her hand with his. After taking a deep breath, Jeb said, “You’re right. And I know what I’m going to do, too.”
“What’s that?”
“Go over to Serenity Book Nook and buy a nice copy of Pilgrim’s Progress for Ruth and Luke. They’ll benefit from it like we did… and still do. Danki, love.” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her cheek.
Granny felt peace pour down into her soul and she leaned her head against his chest. “And anytime you miss our girl, remember, she’s in heaven, awaiting us.”
“Jah. I know. I stumble into doubt and self-pity, just like anyone else.”
She heard his heart beat starting to slow down. He was the most selfless man she knew, yet slipped if he didn’t have his eyes on the straight and narrow. She’d read Pilgrim’s Progress to prepar
e her heart during the five weeks leading to Easter, and brought it up to the knitting circle, to see if they’d like to read it, too.
~*~
Mona put another piece of hot apple pie on Freeman’s place and sat across from him. He nodded, but didn’t say a word, only quickly ate his breakfast as usual… to get out into the barn… away from her.
“I’ll not be going to knitting circle today.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll be babysitting Anna.”
He nodded.
“What do you think of Fannie naming her Anna?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“She thought I’d be upset if she named her Deborah, of all things…”
“I said something.”
Mona tripped on her words. “What?”
“I said something to Melvin.”
Mona grew impatient at times, as pulling words from Freeman’s mouth was as tiresome as trying to catch a greased pig. “And what did you say?”
“That I thought it would bother you, her being called Deborah.” He inhaled a piece of pie. “I told Melvin you’d be hurt.”
“Really?” Mona said, putting her hand over her heart.
He nodded.
“Ach, that was so… thoughtful. That you cared that I’d be hurt.”
Freeman groaned. “Are you reading another romance novel?”
“Nee. Why do you ask?”
“Because ever since you’re started reading them…” He glanced up at the clock. “I’m needed in the barn.”
Mona grabbed for his hand. “Freeman, I have something to say.” Her throat tightened. “A confession.”
Freeman looked down at his hand covered by hers and froze. “Go on.”
Mona squeezed his hand and got up to retrieve her copy of Black Beauty out of the China cupboard. Opening it to where her book marker laid, she read:
“There is no religion without love, and people may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to man and beast it is all a sham - all a sham, James, and it won't stand when things come to be turned inside out and put down for what they are.”
Mona sat down, and hugged the book. “I’ve been a bitter woman, Freeman, awful mad at my daed for being so mean. You knew him…”
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 74