A Quilt for Jenna (6 page)

Sitting at her grandmother's side, she watched her sketch out what she called a “star” quilt. The design was beautiful but simple. First a starburst in the center, then eight branching pillars, surrounded by another circle. On the outside of the circle she drew more pillars that were set between the inner pillars with the outer circle separating them.

“On the tops of the pillars we will make flames of fire,” her grandmother said softly. “They will be just like the lampstand in
der Heilige Platz
, where God spoke to the high priest.”

Once the design was created, Jerusha watched as her grandmother cut the chosen pieces of fabric into perfectly matching parts.

“If the quilt is going to be even and symmetrical, the pieces must be true,” she said.

She let Jerusha try her hand, and even on her first try Jerusha cut the pieces straight and perfect.

“Ja, das is gut
,
”
Grandmother said. “You will be a fine quilt maker, my girl.”

Once the pieces were cut correctly, Grandmother pieced them together with pinpoint accuracy.

“If the quilt is not aligned properly, even in just one small part, the whole thing will look off balance and might pucker,” she had said. “If the design is to be even and pleasing to the eye, each individual piece of fabric must be stitched together just right in order for it to fit together properly. You must trust your own eye and sewing skills for measurement and accuracy. It is a gift not every quilter has.”

Over the following days as
Grossmudder
began to patiently open the quilting way to Jerusha, the girl felt something growing in her—the absolute certainty that God had given her an eye and a gift for this work. As her grandmother pieced together the layers of fabric, she allowed Jerusha to help her stitch them together. First, she placed the patterned top piece on a layer of batting, and then sewed the whole design to a black backing piece. Then, with the quilt stretched tightly on the quilting frame, Jerusha began to learn the even, beautiful stitch of the quilter.

“Dummel dich net
,
”
her grandmother would say. “Take your time, don't hurry.”

Once, when her mind wandered while she was stitching a piece, she made a mistake and went past the place where she should have stopped.

“Halt ei, sell geht su weit!”
her grandmother exclaimed. “You have gone too far. You must concentrate on what you are doing, my girl.”

Jerusha had watched with downcast eyes and a flame burning in her cheeks as her grandmother carefully removed the errant stitches.

“Never hurry, always pay attention, and do the work as unto the Lord,” she told Jerusha in her gentle voice. “You have been given a way to give back to the Lord, as He has given to you. This is a special gift not everyone is given. But to whom much is given, much is required. You must always give back to God from the gift He has given you. And there are dangers along the way. If you become a good quilter, it is quite possible for you to become prideful, thinking that somehow you are more special than others. That is why we put a small mistake in the quilt before we finish. This is so we do not make God angry with us for being too proud.”

Jerusha did not understand until many years later why she felt the small twinge of fear, the first she had ever felt, when her grandmother spoke those words.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

Deep Roots

T
HE NEXT FEW YEARS
flew by for Jerusha. She had found her calling as a quilter, and within a year she was sewing whole sections of her grandmother's quilts on her own. Her stitch was fine, almost invisible, and while most quilters would put seventy thousand stitches in a quilt, Jerusha sewed more than ninety thousand stitches into her first complete quilt.

“
Ja
, your stitch is so small and even,” her grandmother said as she looked over Jerusha's first quilt. “It is as though you've been quilting all your life.”

Grandmother Hannah also helped Jerusha with her schooling, which allowed Jerusha to spend more time at home working on the quilts. Her grandmother was careful to see that she did her chores and helped around the house as all the Hershberger children did, but when the moment came each day to sit down at the quilting frame, Jerusha lost herself in the work.

One day when they were working on a new design together, Jerusha asked, “Grandmother, has our family always lived in Apple Creek?”

“We have been in Apple Creek almost a hundred years.”

“How did our family come to Apple Creek?”

Hannah paused and looked at Jerusha over her reading glasses, which she wore down on her nose. Then she put down her work, and taking Jerusha by the hand, she led her to a small chest in the next room. Hannah opened the chest and took out two books. She held up the first. It was titled
The Martyr's Mirror
.

“To understand how we came to Apple Creek, you must first ask, ‘Where did the Amish come from?' This book was first printed in the year 1660 in Holland,” Hannah said. “It tells the story of the Anabaptists and their fight for religious freedom.

“And this book,” Hannah continued, holding up a small volume with a plain leather cover, “tells the story of Jonathan and Joshua Hershberger. It tells of the choices the twin brothers made after Indians massacred their family near Fort Henry on the Ohio, and the effect those decisions had on generations of Hershbergers. One brother forsook the Amish church, and all his descendants went out into the world, so there are many with the name Hershberger who are not Amish. The other brother, Joshua, stayed in the church and remained faithful, even under the most difficult conditions. Joshua was your great-great-great-grandfather. His grandson, my father, came to Apple Creek in 1860 as a boy. It is because Joshua stayed true that you are here today.”

Jerusha lifted her chin and said proudly, “Grandmother, I will always stay true to our family and our ways. I swear it.”

“Be careful what you swear, child,” said Hannah softly as she stood up and put the books back into the chest. “One day God may hold you to it.”

Jerusha shifted in the backseat of Henry's car and moaned slightly. Her eyes fluttered open and then closed again. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was.
There was an accident. A cow.
She pushed herself up in the seat and stared around.

The memory of her grandmother's words resounded in her mind. “
Be careful what you swear, child. One day God may hold you to it.
”

Jerusha realized with a start that she was breaking the vow she had sworn to Hannah so many years ago.

But I'm not the guilty one! You're punishing me, and I didn't do anything! I was a good Amish girl. I kept the
ordnung,
and I've been faithful in all my ways. You are the one who is wrong. But since You're God, You don't get punished, is that it?

Jerusha felt the flush of anger rise in her face. The empty days since Jenna's death and Reuben's disappearance crowded in on her, and her thoughts became incoherent and jumbled.

Get hold of yourself, Jerusha. Conserve your energy. You have to wait patiently until Henry returns.

Jerusha clutched the blanket closer around her and found herself thinking about her grandmother again.

It all started when You took her from me. She was my teacher and my friend and I loved her so, and yet You let her die a horrible death.

Suddenly Jerusha was startled to realize that her anger had begun that day, the day her grandmother died.

That was the day I started to see You as you really are—vengeful, controlling, and to be feared. You are not the God I thought I loved, but a God who has taken everything I held most dear. I won't forget and I'll never forgive...

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

Reuben

S
EVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD
J
ERUSHA
stood in front of her mirror. The black dress was simple and severe, and yet it couldn't hide the lovely young woman she had become. Even in her sadness, her face shone.

Outside her bedroom, a plain wooden coffin stood in a room that had been stripped of all furniture. In the coffin lay her beloved
grossmudder
, Hannah. Hours after her death, Jerusha and her mother had carefully washed Hannah's body and then dressed her in the plain white dress Hannah had worn on her wedding day.

Even in death, Grandmother's face was serene and gentle, and somehow she looked younger than the years that had finally taken her. When the family learned Hannah was dying of cancer, they began preparations for this day. Two days before her death, Jerusha's father made the coffin with his own hands. Jerusha watched with a heavy heart as he skillfully prepared the simple pine boards.

“We all face this day,
dochter
,” he said to Jerusha as he worked. “Your
grossmudder
has lived a rich life and is beloved in her community. She lived the way our people have been taught to live for three hundred years—love your enemy, do good to those who harm you, and pray for those who despitefully use you. She planted seeds of love in the hearts of many members of our church and will leave treasures behind that will work in people's lives for many years to come. She lived by a simple rule:
Alli mudder muss sariye fer ihre famiyle.
She especially loved you and has imparted a special gift to you. Now that she's gone, you must never forget what she taught you. The gift you have is from God and must be given back to Him with each quilt you make. You have become well known in this area for your skill, but you must always remember that Jesus is the vine and you are only the branch. Without Him you can do nothing. There may come a day when you must give all back to Him. Do not let pride take root,
dochter.
”

Jerusha's heart ached with sorrow as she stood before the mirror. Her grandmother had not only taught her to be a quilter, she had schooled her in the practices and roots of their faith.

“Jerusha, it's time,” her mother called from the next room.

Jerusha opened the bedroom door and entered the viewing room quietly. It was the third day since Grandmother's death, and four older men who had been friends of her grandfather stood next to the coffin, preparing to carry Hannah outside to the plain black horse-drawn hearse. Jerusha went to the side of the plain pine box and stared down at Hannah, trying to fix the image of her grandmother's beautiful face in her mind forever.