A Christmas Miracle: An Amish Celebrations Novella

By Beth Wiseman

Mary is twenty-seven years old and already has five young children. Married to her husband at age eighteen, she wasn’t quite prepared for motherhood, and exhaustion and frustration are sending her into a downhill spiral as the holidays approach. Too proud and ashamed to ask for help, Mary’s situation begins to take a toll on her marriage. But when an elderly man in a red suit and his sidekick elf befriend Mary, showering her with wisdom and advice, she must choose to accept help, learn to cope with her situation, and ultimately find the true meaning of Christmas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zondervan
• Release date: Jul 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9780310352563

Beth Wiseman

Bestselling and award-winning author Beth Wiseman has sold over two million books. She is the recipient of the coveted Holt Medallion, is a two-time Carol Award winner, and has won the Inspirational Reader's Choice Award three times. Her books have been on various bestseller lists, including CBA, ECPA, Christianbook, and Publishers Weekly. Beth and her husband are empty nesters enjoying country life in south-central Texas. Visit her online at BethWiseman.com; Facebook: @AuthorBethWiseman; Twitter: @BethWiseman; Instagram: @bethwisemanauthor

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COPYRIGHT

ZONDERVAN

A Christmas Miracle

Copyright © 2018 by Elizabeth Wiseman Mackey

Requests for information should be addressed to:

Zondervan, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication

CIP data is available upon request.

Epub Edition July 2018 9780310352563

Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

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CONTENTS

Copyright

Glossary

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Discussion Questions

Acknowledgments

Other Books by Beth Wiseman

About the Author

To my readers

GLOSSARY

ab im kopp: sick in the head

ach: oh

boppli: baby

bruder: brother

daadi haus: grandparents’ house

daed: dad

danki: thank you

Englisch: those who are not Amish; the English language

Englischer: non-Amish person

grandmammi: grandmother

gut: good

haus: house

kapp: prayer covering worn by Amish women

kinner: children

maedel: girl

maeds: girls

mamm: mom

mei: my

mudder: mother

nee: no

Ordnung: the written and unwritten rules of the Amish; the understood behavior by which the Amish are expected to live, passed down from generation to generation. Most Amish know the rules by heart.

Pennsylvania Deutsch: the language most commonly used by the Amish

rumschpringe: running around; the period of time when Amish youth experience life in the Englisch world before making the decision to be baptized and commit to Amish life

schweschder: sister

sohn: son

wie bischt: hello; how are you?

wunderbaar: wonderful

ya: yes

PROLOGUE

Bruce fumbled behind his ears, adjusting the elastic band necessary to hold his Santa Claus beard in place. His salt-and-pepper hair was mostly white around his temples, the only places not covered by a traditional Santa hat, so he fit the part well. Running a hand across his overly inflated stomach, he sighed. Joan had insisted he stuff a throw pillow under his red jacket at the last minute, but now the extra padding stretched the black buttons to a point where he feared they might pop.

He took a deep breath and eyed the eager children waiting to sit in his lap. A long line ran the length of the toy aisle before it disappeared around a corner and returned to Bruce’s view near the sporting goods section.

I know this is a far cry from the boardroom, but I feel sure this is the best option out of the choices you were offered for community service. Joan leaned close to his ear and spoke in a whisper, the familiar smell of an orange Tic Tac on her breath. You’re lucky the judge is a friend of yours.

He’s not really a friend. Bruce brushed white lint from the left sleeve of his red suit. More of an acquaintance. He rested his hands on the armrests of the throne he’d been assigned for the day.

Joan scowled as she pointed a bright red fingernail at him. But I didn’t get awarded community service, and dressing as an elf isn’t part of my job description.

Bruce locked eyes with his longtime assistant. He had been her employer for twenty-five years, but there was no question who the boss was in their relationship. Her. Your Christmas bonus will reflect your generous spirit. He smiled at her. And isn’t this better than being at the office?

Joan rolled her big blue eyes as she blew a strand of short, silver hair from her face. I suppose.

Bruce remembered when those locks were a mass of brown waves that fell well below Joan’s shoulders, tresses that were sun kissed a deep shade of blonde during the summer months. But a year ago, she’d stopped coloring her hair, and it had grown into a lovely shade of silver that complemented her youthful glow yet exemplified the wise woman she’d become.

You’d just better be sure I’m out of here by six o’clock or you’ll be answering to Phillip. Joan tugged at her hat until it was snug on her forehead, the length of the green cone falling to one side, anchored by a bouncy red ball. I haven’t worn this outfit since I served Christmas dinner at the women’s shelter years ago, and I must have been a bit thinner then. She pulled on the green skirt she was wearing, then adjusted the black belt around her waist. Anyway, you know how Phillip doesn’t like to miss a meal.

Bruce grinned. That one’s never going to leave the nest, is he?

Joan had raised four kids, mostly by herself. Her husband died when her oldest child was only seven. Her children were all thriving and on their own, except for Phillip.

I’d bounce off the walls in that big house if Phillip wasn’t there. Besides, he’s only twenty.

Bruce had ventured out on his own at seventeen, with barely a hundred dollars in his pocket. But times were different forty-five years ago. He couldn’t begrudge Joan wanting to keep one of her children nearby. A house was lonely with only one occupant.

Bruce started counting the kids in line. Five . . . ten . . . fifteen . . . But those were only the ones he could see before the line disappeared around the corner. If we’re late, I’ll spring for your and Phillip’s dinner out somewhere.

She smiled, her cheeks dimpling beneath an extra layer of rouge for the occasion. Well, then I’ll hope we’re late.

Bruce smiled. He’d paid Joan well for years of hard work and loyalty, and she’d put three of her four children through college. That hadn’t been easy for her.

It’s a good thing you’re doing here. Joan’s eyes twinkled in the bright lights before she narrowed her eyebrows at him and frowned. Even though I’ll tan your hide if I ever hear of you driving under the influence of alcohol again.

Bruce breathed in the smells of Christmas—a display of evergreen branches hanging on a rack nearby, comingling with the aroma of cinnamon coming from the bakery—all filling the store with holiday fanfare. But months after his run-in with the law, Bruce still carried a heavy dose of guilt about what he had done.

He’d been out to dinner with three happily married couples, and he’d missed Lucy more than usual that night. Bruce wasn’t a drinker, and given his state of mind that evening, he should have passed on the cocktails. His emotions didn’t give him the right to put lives in danger.

Thankfully, he’d been pulled over not long after he’d gotten behind the wheel of his car. He had deserved his brief stay in jail, and Joan was right—he’d gotten off easy by paying a fine and playing Santa Claus for a week, as opposed to being assigned a week of picking up trash alongside the highway.

Look at that cute little Amish girl. Joan nodded toward the fifth child in line, dressed in a blue dress, black apron, and the traditional white prayer covering.

Bruce had been in Lancaster County his entire life, so he knew the Amish folks didn’t participate in the whole Santa Claus thing. They were Christians and celebrated the holiday in a modest way, but he’d never seen an Amish child in a line to see Santa Claus.

Rather odd, Bruce said softly as the photographer approached them to signal that he was ready.

Maybe she wants something really big. Joan smiled, clasping her hands together in front of her. "You know, like the girl in Miracle on 34th Street. Remember? She wanted a house and a family."

Bruce himself was a wealthy man, but the Amish were simple people and would never ask for anything