Looking for a Miracle (4 page)

“My life hasn’t always been easy. As you know, I lost my real mamm when I was young, and I had to make many adjustments. It was hard on Pappy, too, but he set a good example and taught me how to love and laugh. Then God brought Mama Mim into our lives, and she’s been there for me ever since.” Mary Ellen released a sigh. “There’s always something for which to be thankful. Maybe you just need to count your blessings, consider all the beautiful things God has made, and focus on how much He loves us.”

Rebekah nodded. “I know that’s true, and I’ll try to do as you suggested.”

Mary Ellen lowered herself to the ground beside the wheelchair. She reached for Rebekah’s plate and handed it to her. “We’d better eat before the ants find our food and decide to have themselves a little picnic of their own.”

Rebekah’s lips curved into a tiny smile. “I might be willing to share my food with one of my special aunts, but never with a bunch of picnic ants.”

Rebekah’s first bite of food tasted like cardboard, and she had trouble swallowing, but after a while, she found herself actually enjoying the meal. A short time later, Rebekah looked down at her plate and was surprised to see that it was empty. She’d been so busy visiting with Mary Ellen that she hadn’t even realized she had eaten everything.

“Guess I’m done,” she said, handing her plate to Mary Ellen.

“Good for you. I’m glad you ate something.”

Rebekah caught sight of Daniel Beachy walking across the yard, and she was surprised when he joined them under the weeping willow tree. Maybe he’d decided this was a good chance to speak with Mary Ellen since Johnny wasn’t around to hog the conversation.

“I’m sorry about your mammi,” Daniel said, dropping to the ground on the other side of Rebekah’s wheelchair. “I didn’t know her as well as some in our community, but she seemed like a right nice woman.”

“She was the best grandma anyone could ever want,” Rebekah said with a nod.

“She wasn’t my mammi by blood,” Mary Ellen put in, “but she always treated me as such.”

Daniel removed his straw hat, and with the back of his hand, he wiped away the rivulets of sweat running down his forehead. “Whew! Sure has turned out to be a mighty warm day. With so many folks here, it’s nice that some of us could eat outside.”

Mary Ellen nodded. “If June’s this hot and sticky, I wonder what we can expect from the rest of our summer.”

“Probably more hot, muggy days,” he replied with a chuckle.

Mary Ellen joined him in laughter, but Rebekah just sat there, feeling as out of place as a June bug in December.
My cousin looks so cute whenever she laughs. I’m sure that’s why all the fellows hang around her so much of the time. That and the fact that she’s got two good legs and can join in their fun and games.
Rebekah glanced down at her lifeless legs. Two dead sticks, that’s all they were. Sure weren’t good for much.
I’d probably never look as cute as Mary Ellen, no matter how much I laughed or smiled.

“Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?” Johnny Yoder asked in his usual, smooth-talking way. Rebekah looked on in surprise as he plunked on the grass beside Mary Ellen. He held a man-sized plate of peanut butter cookies in one hand, and the smile he wore could have melted a block of ice. “I’ve brought you some dessert,” he said, extending the plate to Mary Ellen.

She reached out and snatched one off the plate. “Danki, Johnny. Peanut butter’s my favorite, so I’m beholden to you now.”

Johnny’s smug expression reminded Rebekah of the way some of their barn cats looked whenever they brought a poor defenseless mouse up to the house to show off their catch.

Johnny nudged Mary Ellen’s arm. “Since you’re beholden to me, does that mean I’m welcome to join this group?”

“Of course you’re welcome to join us. We’re glad to have your company, aren’t we?” Mary Ellen glanced over at Rebekah and then at Daniel.

Rebekah nodded. “It’s fine by me.”

Daniel only shrugged, and Rebekah was sure that his wrinkled forehead gave proof of his obvious disappointment. The poor fellow was probably irritated with Johnny for interrupting the conversation he’d been having with Mary Ellen. Rebekah couldn’t fault him for that. It did seem as if Johnny always showed up just when Daniel had begun to make a bit of headway with Mary Ellen.

In no time at all, the cookies were gone, though the two young men had eaten most of them. Conversation didn’t lag much, either—at least not between Johnny and Mary Ellen. Rebekah thought it most unfair that Johnny seemed to be hogging her cousin that way and hadn’t given either her or Daniel a chance to say much.

“The funeral service was long, wasn’t it?” Johnny asked, looking over at Daniel for the first time.

“Jah, they usually are.” Daniel leaned back on his elbows and turned his face toward the cloudless sky. Apparently he wasn’t any more interested in talking to Johnny than Johnny was in talking to him. Daniel was obviously put out because he hadn’t been able to say anything to Mary Ellen since Johnny had showed up.

“The funeral was almost as long as a regular preaching service, and sometimes it’s hard for people to stay awake that long.” Johnny cast a sidelong glance at Mary Ellen. “Say, how about that time you fell asleep in church?”

Mary Ellen jumped up, planting her hands on her slender hips. “What do you mean, Johnny? I never did such a thing, and you know it!”

“Sure you did,” he teased. “You nearly fell right off your wooden bench that day.”

“That’s not so.” Mary Ellen wrinkled her nose at him. “I always pay close attention during preaching.”

“I think he’s only kidding with you,” Rebekah said. “I sure don’t remember you ever falling asleep in church.”

“Me neither,” Daniel put in.

“Jah, well, maybe she wasn’t sleepin’,” Johnny admitted. “She might’ve been prayin’ for a really long time.” He leaned his head back and hooted until his face turned red and tears trickled down his cheeks. Then he jumped up and grabbed Mary Ellen’s hand. “Say, why don’t you take a little walk with me? We’ll head on down to the creek, and maybe that’ll help you cool off. A girl with a fiery temper needs a bit of coolin’ down, don’t ya think?”

Mary Ellen pulled away from him and folded her arms, although there was a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “What makes you think I would be willing to go anywhere with you, Johnny Yoder?”

He blinked a couple of times and gave her a jab in the ribs with his elbow. “Because I’m irresistible, and if you don’t agree to go with me, then I’ll have to get down on my knees and beg like a
hund.
You wouldn’t want me to do something that embarrassing, now would you?”

“Oh, all right,” Mary Ellen conceded with a shrug. “I couldn’t stand to see you beg like a dog.” Her gaze fell on Rebekah; then it swung over to Daniel. “You’re both welcome to come along.”

“No, thanks,” Rebekah declined. “I’d rather stay right here under this shady old tree.” She glanced at Daniel, who now lay on his back, using his straw hat as a pillow. “You go ahead, if you want to, Daniel.”

He crinkled his nose and waved a hand. “Naw, they don’t need me taggin’ along.”

There’s that look again,
Rebekah noted.
Poor Daniel. He’s so smitten with Mary Ellen that he doesn’t know what to do. What with Johnny being around all the time, he has about as much of a chance at winning her over as a snowball does of staying frozen until the Fourth of July.

Mary Ellen and Johnny said their good-byes, then walked away, giggling like a couple of kinner.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Rebekah asked, as she looked down at Daniel. “I’m sure Mary Ellen would—”

“I’d rather not be a fifth wheel on the buggy.” He pulled himself to a sitting position. “I’d have gone if you’d been willing, but no, not alone.”

Rebekah shook her head. “If I had agreed to go along on the walk, I would have only slowed the rest of you down.”

“I could have pushed you in your wheelchair. I’ve had lots of practice with the plow and my daed’s mules, so we’d move along pretty fast, and we wouldn’t have slowed anyone down.”

Rebekah grunted. “I’ve never been compared to a team of mules before.”

His face heated up, and he gave his earlobe a quick tug. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
Why do I always seem to say the wrong thing?

“That’s all right. It’s not important,” she murmured.

“Have you written anything interesting for
The Budget
lately?” Daniel asked, taking their conversation in another direction and hoping to draw Rebekah out of her melancholy mood.

“Not really.” She stared down at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap. “I–I’m not so sure I want to continue doing it now that Grandma is gone.”

“How come?”

She shrugged.

“Do you think your mammi would want you to give up doing things just because she died?”

“I—I guess not. Knowing Grandma, she’d probably want me to keep writing for
The Budget,
the way she used to do before she turned her column over to me.”

He nodded and smiled. “I think you’re right about that.”

“Well, I suppose I’d better go see if Mom needs me for anything.” Rebekah motioned to the plates on the ground. “Would you please hand me those so I can take them inside?”

“Want me to take ’em there for you?”

She shook her head with a determined expression. “I can manage something that simple.”

“Okay.” Daniel placed the plates in Rebekah’s lap, wishing there was something he could do or say that might help take away her pain.

“Danki.”

“You’re welcome.”

Rebekah wheeled away, leaving Daniel alone and wondering why he could never seem to say the right thing when she was around.

Grandma had been gone for nearly a month, yet the pain still lingered in Rebekah’s heart. She missed the dear woman so much—especially the long talks they used to have. Grandma had always been full of good advice, and Rebekah often wondered where all that wisdom had come from.

Nearly every night since Grandma’s death, Rebekah had dreamed about her, often having the same nightmare that involved others in her family being taken from her, too.

“Oh, Lord, what would I do if something happened to Mom and Dad? How would I manage on my own?” she mumbled one morning, as she entered Grandma’s old room.

No answer. Like all the other times she had asked God before, He seemed to be ignoring her. Didn’t God care how much she was hurting? Didn’t He want to give her a miracle?

Rebekah drew in a deep breath and reached for the watering can sitting beside some pots of African violets on the dressing table. Grandma had died so unexpectedly, and Rebekah hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Now she was determined to keep Grandma’s plants alive and flourishing so she would have something to remember her by.

When Rebekah finished watering and pruning all the plants, she spotted Grandma’s Bible lying on the small table next to the bed. The last time she’d seen it, it had been lying across Grandma’s chest. Now it was closed just like Grandma Stoltzfus’s life.

Rebekah rolled her chair up to the table and reached for the Bible, holding it close to her heart. Unbidden tears seeped under her eyelashes, and she sniffed deeply, trying to keep them from falling onto her cheeks. She had heard about the process of grieving for a loved one, but nothing had prepared her for this terrible, empty ache in her soul. She hadn’t realized how much her grandmother had meant to her until she was gone. Now it was too late to tell Grandma all the things that were on her heart.

Why do folks always wait until it’s too late to express their real feelings for one another?
she wondered.
Why not tell them how much you care while they’re still alive?

She placed the Bible in her lap and opened it to a spot where a crocheted bookmark had been positioned. It was in the exact place where the Bible had been open when Rebekah found Grandma in the deep sleep of death.

“Mom must have put this in here,” Rebekah whispered. “Maybe she wanted to save the place where Grandma had last read God’s Word.” Her gaze traveled down the page until it came to rest on the verses Grandma had underlined. “Proverbs 3:5 and 6,” she read aloud. “‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’”

“Those are some good words to live by, don’t you think?”

Rebekah turned her head and saw Mom standing inside the doorway. She nodded but made no reply. If she spoke, she feared her voice would break and she would dissolve into a puddle of unstoppable tears.

Mom came the rest of the way into the room. She took a seat on the edge of the bed near the wheelchair and placed her hand on Rebekah’s trembling shoulder. “It’s all right to grieve for Grandma, but she would want you to go on with life and find happiness.”

“Go on with life?” Rebekah sobbed. “What life, Mom? What kind of a life can a person with a handicap like mine ever have? What happiness awaits someone like me?”

“Oh, Rebekah, it is possible for you to have a meaningful life. Why, many people in the world have disabilities, and most of them live fairly productive lives.” Mom squeezed Rebekah’s shoulder. “You were always such a pleasant, easygoing child, and I thought you had come to accept your limitations. However, since you’ve become a young woman, I’ve noticed a definite change in your attitude, and I’m not sure I like what I see.”

Rebekah sniffed deeply, swiping at the tears running down her cheeks. “When I was a little girl, you all spoiled me. Someone was always around to care for me or just sit and talk, the way Grandma often did. I thought there would always be someone available to provide for my needs. Now I know I’m really a burden, and someday I might not have anyone to care for me.”

Mom moved from her place on the bed and knelt in front of Rebekah. She grasped her hands and held them tightly. “Losing Grandma has made us all aware of how fragile life is. None of us will live on this earth forever. Someday, every believer will join Grandma in heaven.” She closed her eyes, as though searching for just the right words. When she opened them again, she was smiling. “We’re a close family, and I’m sure that, even after your daed and I are both gone, someone will take over the responsibility of your care.”

Rebekah nearly choked on the sob rising in her throat. “I—I don’t want anyone to
have
to be responsible for me. I want to provide for myself—at least financially.” She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I just don’t know what someone like me can do to make enough money in order to accomplish that goal.”

“You could sell eggs or do some handcrafts and take them to the farmers’ market,” Mom suggested.

“Doing small things like selling eggs or crafts wouldn’t give me enough money.” Rebekah felt as if Mom was treating her like a child, and it irked her just a bit.

“If it means so much to you, maybe you should pray about the matter and search God’s Word for wisdom.” Mom stood. “Why don’t you keep Grandma’s
Biewel?
I think she would have wanted you to have it. I know the scriptures gave her a lot of comfort, not to mention answers whenever she needed the Lord’s guidance.”

Rebekah thought about the underlined verses in Grandma’s Bible. Maybe she would continue to search for other scriptures Grandma might have underlined or highlighted. Perhaps the miracle she was looking for could be found in one of those passages.

Sarah returned to the kitchen with a heavy heart, and she flopped into a chair at the table with a moan. If there was only something she could say or do to help her daughter accept her limitations and gain back the joy she had known when she was a child. As a toddler, Rebekah had been so adventuresome, always attempting new things, and full of laughter and smiles, even when she fell down or didn’t get her way on something. The first few years after Rebekah’s accident, she had been easygoing and seemed positive about her situation.

But things began to change when Rebekah started into puberty, and by the time she’d become a teenager, she had developed a completely different attitude. Things she used to shrug off or even laugh about now became issues. She seemed worried about being a burden to others, lacked the confidence of other young women her age, and sometimes succumbed to depression.

Since Grandma’s passing, Rebekah’s dismal attitude seemed to have gotten worse, and it concerned Sarah that she couldn’t reach her daughter or help ease her despair.

Sarah glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall near the door and shook her head. The handicap convention had already taken place, and there wouldn’t be another one until next year, so the idea of taking Rebekah there was certainly out. If only she had been willing to go. If only...

Feeling the need to pray, Sarah closed her eyes and lowered her head to the table.
Heavenly Father, please comfort Rebekah, and give me the strength to keep trying to be an encouragement to her.
She paused and swiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks.
If it’s Your will for my daughter to become self-sufficient, then please show us the way.

For the next several days, Rebekah spent every free moment looking through Grandma’s well-worn Bible. On almost every page, she found a verse of scripture that had been underlined. In some places she discovered that Grandma had scrawled notes in the margin or at the bottom of certain pages, mentioning how some particular verse had spoken to her heart. There was no doubt in Rebekah’s mind—Grandma Stoltzfus had lived and died by the truth of God’s Word. Perhaps that’s what Rebekah needed to do, too.

One morning after breakfast, Rebekah found herself alone in the house. Mom and Nadine were outside weeding the garden, and Dad and Simon were hard at work in the fields. She decided this would be a good time to read a few more scriptures from Grandma’s Bible. Rebekah positioned her wheelchair at the kitchen table and set the Biewel and a glass of cold lemonade in front of her. A deep sense of longing encompassed her soul as she silently prayed,
What words do You have for me today, Lord? I need to know whether You have a special plan for my life.

She opened the Bible to a place that Grandma had marked with a small piece of ribbon. As she studied the page, she spotted another underlined passage, Jeremiah 31:3–4. “The Lo r d hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee. Again I will build thee, and thou shalt be built.”

Rebekah sat for several minutes, pondering the scripture. Deep in her heart she knew God loved her, but was His Word saying He wanted to rebuild her? If so, did it mean rebuild her body? Now, that would take a huge miracle. No, she was fairly sure the scripture referred to being spiritually renewed and rebuilt, and she knew she was in need of that, especially where her lack of faith and tendency to fear the unknown were concerned.

For the next little while, Rebekah continued to seek out verses. She was pleased to discover several that dealt with the subject of fear. Psalm 34:4 in particular spoke to her heart: “I sought the Lo r d, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.” After Rebekah read the verse a couple more times, she had a deep sense that she must not be afraid of her dreams anymore or of being left alone. God would provide for her needs and calm her fears; she just needed to be faithful and learn to trust Him more.

With a feeling of peace she hadn’t felt in many months, Rebekah closed the Bible, bowed her head, and offered a silent prayer
. Dear Father, thank You for reminding me that You love me with an everlasting love and want to build up my faith. Please draw me closer to You, and help me remember not to fear but to trust in You. And if it’s Your will for me to support myself financially, then please show me how. Guide me, direct me, and prepare my heart for a true miracle from You. Amen.

When Sarah finished her weeding and returned to the house, she was surprised to see that Rebekah was not in the kitchen where she had been earlier. Figuring her daughter might have gone to her room, she rapped on the door.

No answer.

“Rebekah, are you there?”

Still no response.

“Maybe she went to Grandma’s old room.” Sarah moved to the next room and knocked on that door.

“Come in.”

She opened the door and spotted Rebekah sitting in her wheelchair, watering some of Grandma’s African violets that had been placed on the window ledge. “I thought I might find you in here,” she said, crossing the room to join her daughter in front of the window.

Rebekah turned her head and gave Sarah a questioning look. “Did you need me for something?”

“Not really, but I did want to talk to you about an idea I have.”

“What idea is that, Mom?”

“Your daed’s hired a driver to take us to the farmers’ market tomorrow, where we plan to sell some of our fresh produce and a few other things. Since you seem so set on wanting to make some money of your own, I thought you might like to take some flowers from the garden or maybe a few of these houseplants to sell,” she said, motioning to the violets.

“Sell off Grandma’s plants?” Rebekah’s eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head. “No, Mom, I could never do that. It wouldn’t be right. No, not right at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because the African violets were so special to her.” Rebekah’s smile never quite reached her eyes. “They help keep her memory alive, too.”

“Grandma’s memory will always be alive in our hearts,” Sarah said. “We have many other things to remind us of her besides the plants, and I don’t think Grandma would mind if you sold a few violets so you could have some money of your own.”

“I do want to start making money, but selling off Grandma’s plants? Sorry, but I just couldn’t do that and feel good about it.”

“Why not take cut flowers from the garden then? I’m sure those would sell, too.”

“That would be all right, I suppose.” Rebekah stared out the window with a wistful expression. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers and smiled. “I know! I could take some starts from Grandma’s plants. All I need to do is put them in some pots full of good soil, and they’ll soon become new plants of their own. It might even be good for the bigger plants to be thinned a bit. At least that’s what Grandma used to say whenever I asked her why she was pinching some of the leaves off the violets and repotting them in smaller pots.”

“I think that’s a fine idea. If you want, I’ll help you get the cuttings done today.”

“Danki for offering, but if I’m to make the money from the plants, then I want to do all the work myself.” She blinked a couple of times. “Besides, this is something I can do without any help at all.”

“Okay.” Sarah clasped Rebekah’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She turned to leave, but before she got to the door, Rebekah called out to her.

“Mom, there’s one more thing.”

“What’s that, Rebekah?”

“I think I’m ready to start writing some things in my
Budget
column again.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Maybe you can write up something about our trip to the farmers’ market.”

“Jah, maybe so.”

“All right then. Tomorrow you can share our sales table at the market, and we’ll see how everything goes.” Sarah went out the door, feeling a little more hopeful about Rebekah. She knew full well how important it was for her daughter to feel independent, and she would do nothing to stand in the way of Rebekah doing something on her own.