Jerry struck his forehead. “Duh, I forgot. Clark, stand up.”
Clark stood up, flicked back his chin-length black hair, and gave a playful bow to the congregation.
“Yinz remember Clark, right? He lived with us, got schooling up in Punxsy. Well, he’s going to live with the boys as soon as his papers clear, and he’ll be teaching horticulture and all that fancy stuff you learn in college about plants.”
The congregation started with one person clapping, and then the whole church followed, welcoming Clark back into their church. “Can’t find a better man than Clark,” someone yelled. Clark curtsied, making everyone roar with laughter.
“I think Clark has the sense of humor, and can connect with the boys, since he was homeless when he came to us, and found a family with us.” Jerry’s face contorted. “You see, these boys will be adoptable. They’ll need families. They’re at the point of no return, understand? No parents fit for them to go home to.”
A mourning dove softly cooed outside. Marge nudged Joe, and then whispered in his ear, “Did you know this?”
He cupped his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. “No, but you know what this means don’t you?”
“No.”
“God sees us fit to be parents to a bunch of kids. Man, the guilt we had over the abortion sure blinded us.”
Jerry asked Ginny Rowland to come forward to lead the church in a new hymn.
Ginny flung the guitar strap over her shoulder. “Seems like the whole town’s reading Pilgrim’s Progress. I’ve sold so many copies from my bookstore; I’m out of stock.” She tuned up her guitar as she talked into the microphone. “I did some digging, and John Bunyan wrote a hymn called, To be a Pilgrim. The words are on the overhead projector, and let’s sing it first, and then discuss a new name for the foster home.
He who would valiant be ’gainst all disaster,
Let him in constancy follow the Master.
There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.
Who so beset him round with dismal stories
Do but themselves confound - his strength the more is.
No foes shall stay his might; though he with giants fight,
He will make good his right to be a pilgrim.
Since, Lord, Thou dost defend us with Thy Spirit,
We know we at the end, shall life inherit.
Then fancies flee away! I’ll fear not what men say,
I’ll labor night and day to be a pilgrim.
Marge wiped a tear as the slow, meditative hymn came to a close. Though the words and meaning seemed antiquated, they were filled with hope. She reread the last line: I’ll labor night and day to be a pilgrim. That she would do, being faithful to the call to care for these boys that were in need of good parents. People like her, of all people. Joy filled her as she realized she was free from guilt, and could with confidence be a foster parent.
Joe’s voice broke into her train of thought. “How about we call it Arbor Creek? Pilgrim went to an arbor for rest and to take a drink of water.” His cheeks colored. “Yeah, I read the book.” He leaned on one foot, and then the other. “Water symbolizes the Holy Spirit and there’s a creek in the back of the property.”
Marge pushed her lips together tight, to not show how very proud she was of Joe. Looking at the other church members, heads nodding in amazement, she pat Joe’s back. “I love it!”
Ginny strummed her guitar as if a drumroll. “I think we have a name. Do yinz agree?”
“Amen,” Janice shouted, and everyone clapped.
Marge stood up and did a happy dance, right out in the aisle, not able to contain herself.
~*~
Jeb stared into his morning coffee, and Colleen didn’t know how to read this expression. Was he thinking deeply about what she said, angry, or both?
Granny put her arm around her. “Anything else you need to confess?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Jeb cleared his throat loudly, looked up aimlessly, and then met her eyes. “Colleen, this changes everything, jah?”
Not able to speak, Colleen remained silent.
Granny squeezed Colleen shoulder. “Did you put all this in your trifle box?”
“Yes, but it’s been less than twenty-four hours…”
“Come again?” Jeb asked. “Don’t know your meaning.”
“Remember,” Granny chimed in, “Colleen writes things that aren’t really important, trifles, in her little box.”
“Ach, jah.” Jeb pounded the table with his tapping fingers. “Then in a few days you see they were fleeting nothings.” Jeb cracked a knuckle and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve been thinking about something. Colleen, you’ve been mighty faithful throughout baptismal classes and proving time and this came on sudden-like. Do you think you’re going through the Valley of the Shadow of Death?”
Colleen grunted. “You can say that again.”
“I mean the part in Pilgrim’s Progress, where Pilgrim is tempted by base thoughts in the valley, and Pilgrim thinks it’s him. But it’s not…”
“What do you mean?”
“Any thought can fly into our heads; it’s only when you entertain it, give it a room in your heart and let it live there, that’s when it’s sin, as I look at it. A fleeting thought isn’t sin.”
Colleen groaned. “But I feel so guilty, thinking such thoughts about Clark. I was unfaithful in my mind. The Bible says if you look at someone with lust, you’ve committed the act.”
“Christ was tempted,” Jeb interjected, “but without sin.”
“Jah,” Granny said. “Remember when he was tempted for forty days and forty nights in the wilderness? Satan whispered things in His ears trying to get him to act on it. He didn’t turn a stone into bread, or jump off a cliff to see if angels would catch him, or bow down to Satan so he could have everything he owned.”
“Bow down to Satan? Really?” Colleen had known Satan worshippers out on the streets, and could never understand how anyone could do such a thing.
“A thought isn’t a sin,” Jeb said kindly. “Think about it like this. A seed falls in your flower patch. It’s a thistle seed and you don’t want thistles in your garden. So, when you see a thistle seed fall in, you simply take it out. If it makes a little seedling, you pull it out. Sin’s like that. It’s a little thing, a thought. Don’t let it take root.”
Colleen felt a heavy stone of guilt come off her heart. But as soon as she found reprieve from her dilemma, Hezekiah’s face appeared before her. “I understand, I think. But I hurt Hezekiah.”
“Have you talked with him?” Granny asked.
“No. I’m too ashamed. He left, pretty angry and hurt.”
“And this was yesterday?” Jeb asked.
Colleen nodded.
“Why’d you let the sun go down on your anger?” Jeb asked.
“We can go over and visit him now,” Granny advised. “He loves you and will forgive.”
Jeb took a swig of his coffee. “He’s not home.”
“How do you know?” Granny asked.
“Word has it he went out to Ohio yesterday.”
“Why?” Colleen knew she was in a nightmare while wide awake. She’d lost him. How could she be so stupid? “He didn’t even tell me.”
“But he needs to be here on Sunday for Easter,” Granny said.
“It’s only Thursday, Deborah. Don’t get your dander up.” Jeb raked his fingers through his gray hair. “Colleen, are you willing to be Amish if Hezekiah’s not ready to wed?”
Colleen didn’t think her heart could sink so low. She’d never pondered an Amish life without Hezekiah. It all came so naturally, him helping her over rough patches of doubts and teaching her so many things about the Amish. She couldn’t think of life without him at all. “Do you know where in Ohio he went?”
“Millersburg, I suppose,” Granny said. “We have lots of kin out there in Holmes County. Why?”
�
��I need to see him. Maybe Suzy will drive me out. I just can’t let him…” She covered her face with her hands.
“Now, now,” Jeb said. “This may take more time, but it will all work out. The Lord’s will be done.”
“What will take more time?” Colleen blurted.
“Well, possibly your baptism and wedding. You didn’t answer my question about being Amish without Hezekiah, and I have a hankering you’re doing it for him. Now, that’s alright. Not finding fault in that, but when you vow to be Amish, it’s a vow as serious as a marriage vow. You can have no doubts or be double-minded about it. And it’s only three days away.” He sighed loudly. “Let’s seek God over these next few days and see what unfolds.”
“Jah,” Granny said, “And don’t lose hope. We have a saying. ‘Some may see a hopeless end, but as a believer we rejoice in an endless hope.’”
~*~
Granny’s slowly opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep again while knitting after the noon meal. So many visitors, church members who needed to confess sins or needed counsel had her nerves on edge so she took a break to knit. But she soon dozed off.
But she had Colleen heavy on her heart as she was knitting, and the dear girl weighed on her again. What was wrong with this girl she loved so? Was she having serious doubts about becoming Amish, since her baptism was to take place in a few days?
She leaned her head against the back of her Amish rocker as other concerns flooded her mind. She would not worry and fret, but pray. She closed her eyes:
Dear Jesus,
You know me through and through, and for that I am so thankful. And you know Colleen through and through, too. Only you know if she would be happy being Amish. You see her down the road of life, as an elderly woman. Would she be fulfilled being Hezekiah’s wife with many grandkinner running underfoot? As much as I see this being possible, you know best, so your will be done.
And Lord, Hezekiah taking off and going to Ohio is not like him. He’s as steady as they come. Be with him, Lord. If he’s upset with Colleen, give him the grace to forgive. He saw her dancing with Clark, of all things. Lord, he needs your grace for sure.
Also, Fannie and Mona have such a bad mother-daughter relationship. I understand Mona now and I pray Fannie will someday. Give her strength to forgive and help her understand that we’re all made of dust, hopelessly flawed.
I ask all this in Jesus name,
Amen.
Dear Readers,
I hope you enjoyed this episode of Amish Knit Lit Circle. Pilgrim’s Progress is a classic book that some claim is second in sales to the Bible, the Bible being the all-time best- selling book. I think Pilgrims Progress is worth reading at different times in life, if you’re in The Valley of the Shadow of Death, or resting at an arbor. The book is free public domain and is available on all eBook devices.
I leave you again with a recipe for Amish oatmeal muffins, something you can eat all day, be it breakfast, a mid-afternoon snack, or for dessert.
Oatmeal Muffins
1 c. rolled oats
1 c. milk
1/3 c. shortening
½ c. brown sugar
1 egg
1 c. flour
½ tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
Mix oats and milk together, then add remaining ingredients. Fill greased or paper-lined muffin cups 2/3rds full. Bake at 375 degrees for 20 minutes. Insert toothpick. If clean, the muffins are done. If not clean, bake a few minutes longer.
Episode 8
The Secret Garden
Granny thought her eyeballs would come out of their sockets, so shocked that Jeb didn’t have the same reaction to the news they’d received through the Amish grapevine. “Jebediah Weaver, Hezekiah came back from Ohio with a woman! Understand? And she’s living at his house.”
“And?”
“So he got married out in Ohio…”
“Jah, I suppose.”
Granny scooped scrambled eggs out of her cast iron skillet, slapped them on a plate and jostled it in front of Jeb. “I suppose? He’s broken Colleen’s heart is what I suppose!”
Jeb leaned back, hands up as if in surrender. “Colleen’s a faithful one, for sure and for certain. Going through her baptismal vows with Hezekiah not even there to witness it.”
“He should be horse whipped,” Granny blurted. “Why on earth has he treated Colleen so terrible? Ach, she really is Mary Lennox.”
“Mary who?”
“Mary Lennox, the main character in The Secret Garden. She had a wretched life. A very lonely life.”
“But Colleen’s found her Amish relations and has the knitting circle friends. I think she’ll be fine.”
Granny sat down and glared at Jeb.
“I think I’ll be having a busy day today,” Jeb said massaging his temples.
“Busy as in going over to Hezekiah’s?”
He nodded. “Need to ask a few questions.”
“Can I go?”
“You’re watching the kinner aren’t you? Lizzie and Roman are helping Marge and Joe move in.”
Granny tapped her fingers on the table. “I could ask Becca to babysit.”
“Ach, nee. I need to have one-on-one words with Hezekiah, man to man.” Jeb frowned, knitting his eyebrows together a little too tight.
“You don’t fool me. You don’t want me to go.”
He reached over and pat her shoulder. “Don’t know if you could handle it, old woman.”
Old woman? He hadn’t called her that in a long time. When Jeb got nervous he said odd things, so what was he hiding?
“Did you see the roses? Blooming mighty fine,” Jeb said.
“Jah, I told you I was out clipping them yesterday.” Granny sighed. “If you won’t tell me, maybe it’s that bad. Ach, I had such hopes for Colleen.”
Jeb took her hand and rubbed the top of it with his thumb. “Things turn out alright in the end, jay? Remember our courting days?”
Granny felt tension drain out of her back. “Jah, and I took the road less traveled…”
“And it’s made all the difference,” Jeb finished. “Are you reading Robert Frost again?”
“Jah. Always do in spring. His poems have more meaning now. Hard to read about flowers and blueberries and whatnot when the earth is covered in snow.”
“Unless you read his snow poems…”
Granny bit her lower lip. “Poems soothe me. Don’t know how or why, but they do. And I’ve been baffled lately about Colleen’s situation. She was headed down a path that was so sure, but now it’s so uncertain.”
Jeb motioned for Bea to come up on his lap. “Don’t fret so, love. You care too much at times.”
“I know. Can’t help it, having a mamm’s heart and all.”
Jeb lifted up Bea, putting her face up to his. “I want to show you something. Come around the back of me.”
Granny obeyed, even though she knew Jeb was changing the subject and she wanted to fret out loud a bit more concerning Colleen.
“Now, watch this,” Jeb said. “Bea, look at your daed.”
Bea’s timid eyes had always looked away, Granny knew. The dog didn’t trust people and couldn’t look anyone in the eyes. But to her astonishment, Bea slowly and with great timidity, made her big brown eyes meet Jeb’s.
“That’s my girl, Bea. See, I won’t hurt you.” Jeb nuzzled his face into Bea’s long fur. “You’re loved and trust me, jah?”
Granny swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “Now, I’ll be. I never thought she’d do that.”
Jeb turned to look at Granny. “Look to God, Deborah, and trust him. It will all turn out right.”
Granny hugged him around the neck and kissed his cheek. “I see your meaning. I need to trust, not fret.”
Jeb grabbed her hand. “How about we say casting off prayers together? Right here and now.”
Granny squeezed his hand. “I’d like that. And need it. Colleen will be over today for knitting circle
and I don’t know what to say.”
Jeb bowed his head, and Granny took his cue and bowed hers, too.
~*~
Colleen smoothed her wrinkled black apron, having been too distracted to think of ironing. Was she presentable for work? And now she needed this little job more than ever, not having an Amish husband for support, as she thought.
When she opened the door to the yarn shop, the little bell jingled, and it calmed her heart a tad. Some things never changed: yarn shops. Yes, having something to lace in between her fingers to make a pattern was something she had control over. Life, she did not.
“Morning, doll face,” Suzy nearly sang as she appeared from the back room.
“Yes, it is a good morning. I see your daffodils and tulips are up.”
Suzy plunked herself at her desk and began shuffling through paperwork. “Those flowers always tell me something. Do you know what?”
“What?”
“Clean your house and shop. It’s spring cleaning time.” Suzy chuckled. “And having a real Amish woman to help me clean, what more could I want?” Suzy’s eyes met Colleen’s and her face dropped into concern. “I’m sorry. Being cheerful around someone who’s going through a hard time is like serving them vinegar to drink.”
Colleen pursed her lips. “Well, I’ve had a bitter blow, but I look forward, as the Amish do. This place is not our home…”
Suzy pat the chair next to her. “Sit down and knit the rest of this scarf. I can’t keep them in stock.”
“You don’t want me to clean?”
“No,” Suzy insisted. “I need scarves made. Spring scarves are all the rage, you know.”
Colleen knew Suzy had been trying to make her work pleasant, but she didn’t know that work was now something she did with pleasure. Something about the Amish way of life, combining work with fellowship, was something she looked forward to. But, of course, knitting was her best stress buster yet.
“No word from Hezekiah?”
Colleen shook her head. “Of course you’ve heard the rumors.”
“No. I only hear English gossip. The Amish are pretty mum about their own affairs.”
When Colleen heard the word ‘affair,’ she felt the life drain from her. Is that what Hezekiah had been doing? Colleen’s arms felt limp and she set the green yarn in her lap. “Hezekiah came home from Ohio with a woman.”
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 81