Spring Brings New Hope

KARIN’S RECOVERY WENT SLOWLY. It was late spring, with planting well finished, when she first set foot out of doors again. Henceforth she mended well. It seemed as if the rays of the sun returned health to her body, putting color into her cheeks, easing her lassitude and removing the morbid thoughts that caused her lethargy.

She resumed her duties one by one, a little at a time, freeing Ute and Annelis to look after their own affairs again. Both women had lovingly cared for her, as well as for Christoph and Paul. During her worst hours Karin had believed that she would never hold Paul again, and now she rejoiced in his health and the growth spurt he underwent while she lay ill.

Around them, the village had changed. Fifty people, old and young, were no more, killed by the combined ravages of malnutrition, scurvy and exposure to the cold. Karin had missed their funerals and the burial of her miscarried child. She had missed the tears, the prayers and the comfort of having released them into God’s keeping in the bosom of the church.

As she walked in her garden, neatly prepared and planted by her father and her sister, and thought about those tragic weeks, her tears began to flow and the iron band pressing on her heart softened and melted away. Suddenly, she could think of the little mite God had claimed with bittersweet regret, released from the bond that still connected her to the tiny girl.

Walking back to her house, her step was lighter; her soul was more at peace than during the weeks of convalescence, when darkness and fear dominated her being. God was with her once more – the gloom receded.

The months passed, and once again Christoph and Karin endured another heartbreak. Karin’s next pregnancy, occurring a few months later, also ended tragically. Another little girl – another small box for the funeral. The family was bereaved, heartsick once more. Ute conferred with the most knowledgeable women in the village on the subject of miscarriage prevention.

“The next time she must stop all work,” suggested the older woman who had become head of the village’s midwives.

“Perhaps malnutrition robbed her of essentials needed for a baby,” suggested a second woman, and yet another would have liked her to cure the girl with, “A purge of sauerkraut juice and thereafter strengthen her with a glass of berry wine each night.”

In the end, no one could say what made the difference, but when Karin conceived again, all went well. Her body was restored to health. Within the next two years, in 1771 and 1772, Christoph and Karin welcomed two daughters into their family.

They named the older girl Katharina, in honor of the Tsarina Catherine, the younger Maria, to honor the mother of the Christ. Their last child, a son, was born in 1775 and named Kurt.