Simple Choices (28 page)

I nodded. “I won’t, Ida. Thank you. I think everything else that’s going on is stressing me out. My mind is on Hannah and Sarah. And Papa has gotten worse the last few days. It’s hard to concentrate on anything else.”

Ida was silent for a moment. When she spoke, there was hesitancy in her voice. “Perhaps this will bring you some comfort, liebling. I had a dream last night about Hannah.” She smoothed the thick material of her dress with her aged-spotted hands. “She was in a dark place, but there was an angel standing beside her, and the light from the angel began to drive away the blackness that surrounded her. And there was peace, Gracie. Great peace. The angel looked at me as if I stood in that place with them, and he said, ‘Fear not. God is watching over Hannah and she will come home soon.’” The old woman looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Many people believe that God no longer speaks through dreams and visions, but this is not so. ‘And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.’” She touched my arm. “I believe this dream is inspired, Gracie. I believe our Hannah will come home.”

Something rose up inside of me after hearing Ida’s words and strengthened my faith. Her dream confirmed what the Muellers and I believed God had already told us. I’d learned to trust this elderly Mennonite woman who knew God in a way many people didn’t. “Oh, Ida,” I said. “I also believe God still speaks today, and I’m so glad you shared this with me. This is the second time He’s sent reassurance of Hannah’s return.”

“Ja, ja,” she said, “but this is not all.”

“There’s more? What is it?”

“The angel said one more thing. He said, ‘Tell Grace she must have eyes to see and ears to hear.’ And then I awoke.”

I was so surprised, I swerved the car before gaining control and slowing down. Thankfully there was no other traffic on Faith Road. “Th–the angel mentioned me by name? What does that mean?”

“I believe it means God will use you to bring this precious girl back to us,” she said simply. “You must remember what he said and make sure your eyes see and your ears hear.”

“I have no idea what that means, Ida.”

“Ach, Gracie. You must just pay attention. God will show you what He wants you to know. You must stay open to Him.” She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “And do not let your mind fill up with worry and fear. I find it is harder to hear what God has to say when these two emotions crowd out my peace.”

Ida and her
peace
. Her peace guided her constantly, and I’d begun to understand that her peace was the voice of the Holy Spirit living inside her. She’d taught me to look for
my
peace and follow it. And something inside told me her dream and the words she’d shared with me were very important. I turned them over in my mind until we pulled up into Abigail’s driveway. The difference in the house in just the short time C.J. had been working on it was impressive. The yard was cleaned up, and the porch had been rebuilt. Other repairs had been made, and the house was being painted.

“Oh my,” Ida said when she saw it. “This is so wonderful. So many people have tried to help Abigail, but her pride turned them away. I guess it took her son to accomplish what an entire town could not do. And just look at the wonderful results.”

“Yes, he’s done a marvelous job, hasn’t he?”

She nodded. “I know we cannot stay long,” Ida said, “but perhaps Abigail will at least see us for a few minutes.”

As if on cue, the rain began to come down in torrents. “Wait here,” I told her. “I have an umbrella in my trunk. I’ll get it.” I popped the trunk latch, got out of the car, and hurried to the back. Thankfully, the umbrella was still there. I’d been worried I’d taken it in the house when I’d cleaned out my car. I slopped around to Ida’s door, opened it, and helped her out. We both tried to stay under the large umbrella Allison had given me on my last birthday. Clear plastic with colorful dots, I felt a little ludicrous holding it over Ida’s bonneted head. I’d always thought the umbrella was cute, but now it just seemed silly. Although it was slow going, we finally made it to the porch. With the rotting wood replaced, the floor felt sturdy and safe. I knocked on the new door that had been installed, and a few moments later, it swung open.

“Gracie!” C.J. said with a smile. “I’m so glad you stopped by. Come in, please.”

I helped Ida inside first. There was a rug near the door and we both carefully wiped our wet feet. C.J. looked at Ida oddly and hesitated. Then recognition showed in his face. “Mrs. Turnbauer?” he said. “Is that you?”

Ida smiled. “C.J., it is so good to see you again. It has been a long time, ja?”

“Yes, yes it has.” He held out his arm. “May I take your cape?”

“Ja, ja. It is very wet though. I do not want to make a mess.”

“That’s no problem. I’ll hang it up on the coatrack. There’s a rug underneath to catch the water.”

“Thank you, young man,” she said gratefully.

I quickly scanned the room. The furniture was old and worn, but the room itself was neat. A metal fan whirred from a corner. Since I knew Abigail had no electricity, I was surprised. C.J. noticed.

“It runs on batteries,” he said. “It’s been so hot working here without air-conditioning, I went to Council Grove and bought a couple of them. The other one is in my bedroom.”

The rain outside had lowered the temperature quite a bit, and with the fan running, the inside of Abigail’s house was quite pleasant.

“Where is your mama?” Ida asked. “I don’t want to bother her, I would just like to say hello. We are on our way to Topeka to visit a friend in the hospital, so I thought we would stop by for a minute or two.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Mama is lying down, but if you’ll wait, I’ll be glad to tell her you’re here.”

“I do not wish to wake her,” Ida said hesitantly. “Perhaps we should come back another time.”

“No, she’s not sleeping. Sometimes she gets uncomfortable in her wheelchair and likes to stretch out for a while. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“C.J.,” I said, “before you get your mother, I—I wanted to explain something. Why Papa Joe didn’t recognize you. He–he’s ill. It’s Alzheimer’s.”

His face fell. “I’m so sorry, Gracie. I guess that explains it. I mean, it’s not as if we were close when I was young, but I really thought he’d remember me. Joe wasn’t too crazy about me back then, and I certainly don’t blame him. I was rather rebellious, I’m ashamed to say.”

“Well, I just wanted you to know. I didn’t want you to be offended.”

He shook his head. “I’m not offended, but I’m certainly sad to hear about his condition. Joe Temple is one of the finest men I’ve ever known.”

“Thanks,” I said sincerely.

He nodded. “I’ll get Mama.” He pointed toward an old couch that had seen better days. “Please have a seat. She’ll be out in a minute.”

Ida and I sat down gingerly on the faded piece of furniture. I brushed something that looked like cookie crumbs from one area, and we had to avoid a spring that had pushed its way through the material.

“I know you and Abigail believe in a simpler life,” I whispered to Ida, “but does that mean you can’t have decent furniture?”

She shook her head. “We try not to make material things too important, but perhaps Abigail needs furniture that will not cause injury to her or those who visit her.” She leaned in closer to me. “Help has been extended to her, but she refuses it.” She put her hand on mine. “Real humility isn’t found in living a life of poverty, Gracie. Outside expressions do not reveal the heart. True humility comes from believing and obeying God above our own thoughts and feelings. I am afraid Abigail thinks that if she looks poor it is proof she is humble. I believe it is actually misplaced pride. She is too proud to let others bless her. I do not think this is pleasing to a God who wants to provide for His children through the love of His people. How can we fulfill His mandate to give when people like Abigail will not receive?”

She put her hand back on her lap, and I thought about what she’d said. There was a man in our little church back home in Fairbury who made a big show of being poor. Because he had so little in worldly goods, to him it signified that he was more spiritual than the other people in the church. One day when his car broke down and couldn’t be repaired, my mother and father, who’d just purchased a new car, decided to give the man their old one, which was still in very good shape. My father took it to a mechanic and had him go over everything, spending almost three hundred dollars in repairs. When my parents gave the man their car, he seemed to accept it gratefully. But the next Sunday, when he pulled into the church parking lot, the once-beautiful vehicle was a complete mess. The windshield was cracked and the body was covered with dents and dings. My father was horrified, thinking the man had been in an accident. He rushed over to see what had happened, my mother and I following behind him.

“Were you in collision?” Dad asked. “Are you okay?”

“Oh no,” the man said, his chest swelling with a sense of importance. “I took a sledgehammer to it so I wouldn’t become proud of driving something that looked so nice.” The man’s wife and child stood behind him. The wife stared at the ground while the man’s ten-year-old son just looked embarrassed.

My father was so angry he couldn’t speak. He turned around, grabbed my mother’s arm, and ushered us into the church building. That was the last time my parents ever tried to help him. Eventually his wife left him and took their son with her. I’d wondered for years what had happened to them, but ever since I continued to pray that they would discover who God really is and wouldn’t be permanently scarred by this man’s strange behavior. Eventually, the pastor confronted him about his confused ideas, but this so-called humble man didn’t take kindly to the correction. He left the church after standing up in a service and railing against the “pride and arrogance” of the pastor and the other members. Then he left to find another church where he could play his game of false humility.

“You are very quiet, child,” Ida said. “Have I offended you?”

“Not at all,” I answered. “In fact, you’ve just explained a situation that I hadn’t thought about for a long time.” I quickly told her the story.

“Ja, ja,” she said, nodding her head. “This is a very good example of what I mean. This poor man tried to build his own righteousness through his works, and we cannot do that. Our righteousness is of God only.” She took a deep breath. “This is what I have tried to tell Abigail down through the years, but I am afraid I have been unsuccessful. As I have told you before, living the life I live is a choice. Not a judgment on others, and not a source of spiritual pride. But Abigail … Well, I do not think she believes the same way.”

A noise from the other room stopped our conversation. C.J. pushed a wheelchair into the living room. I was somewhat surprised to see Abigail up close. She wasn’t as old as I’d thought she’d be. She looked to be in her late fifties or early sixties although I knew she had to be almost seventy. Her hair was pulled back from her face, probably in a tight bun, and her head was covered with a black bonnet similar to Ida’s. She was dressed in black from head to toe, except for the white plaster cast that peeked out from under her heavy skirt. Once again, I wondered how anyone could wear so many clothes in the summer.

“Oh Abigail,” Ida said, getting up from the couch. I held her elbow as she struggled to her feet. “I am so sorry to find out about your leg. I should have checked on you sooner.”

Abigail arched one eyebrow and stared at Ida without smiling. “Well, I hear you have been busy attending that liberal church in town. Perhaps they don’t teach taking care of your neighbors there?”

Ida toddled up next to Abigail and kissed her on each cheek. “Now Abigail, the church is not liberal. They also live a simple life. You should visit. I believe you would enjoy it. The pastor is a man of great love and deep understanding.”

“Humph,” she uttered. “We had a wonderful church until you broke it up. I believe you’ve also convinced the Vogler family to abandon true doctrine.”

Ida laughed gently. “No, Abigail. I do not convince anyone to do anything. God alone is able to lead His sheep. And you know that our number began to dwindle because our dear brother Benjamin died. And then Gabriel and Sarah decided to attend Bethel, as I did. The Voglers made their decision later without any help from me. And the Beckenbauer brothers are too ill to attend church at all. It might interest you to know that Abel and Emily Mueller visit them regularly and help to care for them. They have become very good friends.”

“Oh, pshaw,” the woman spat out. “The brothers are taking help because they have no other choice. I would help them if I could.” Her voice took on a whiny tone. “But as you can see, I can’t do much for anyone.” She leaned over and rubbed her cast. “I’ve been in this chair for a month now. It doesn’t get any better.” She reached up and grabbed C.J.’s hand. “Thank God my son is here to take care of me.”

C.J., who still stood in back of his mother’s wheelchair, winked at us. “Now Mama, you know the doctor said your bones were healing nicely and that you should be able to start getting around with crutches before long.”

Abigail quickly pulled her hand from her son’s. “You just say that because you want to abandon me again.” She put her hands up over her face. “I am so alone. There isn’t anyone who cares about me.”

“How did you break your leg, Abigail?” Ida asked, ignoring her friend’s attempt to gain sympathy.

“I tripped on the stairs carrying my laundry to the basement,” she said. “I lay on the floor for days because no one cared enough to check on me.”

“But I believe Kenneth and Alene Ward bring you groceries almost every week, isn’t that true?” Ida said.

Abigail turned her face away and wouldn’t answer.

“That’s who found her,” C.J. said. “And it was only a couple of hours after she fell. Not days. They called an ambulance and stayed with her at the hospital. They also called me. Nice people.”