She nodded. “I have already repented in my heart many times. But it is something we cannot undo. We were foolish.”
“Jah, we were. But I cannot say that I am not pleased to have you as mei fraa. And to have our precious boppli. Der Herr has been gut to me in spite of my sin.”
“I do love you. But we have done so much wrong. And Uri…” A tear escaped her lashes and slid down her face. “Uri did nothing wrong, yet I feel like he paid for our sin. He was a gut man and a gut husband. He trusted me and I betrayed him.”
David longed to erase her pain. “And I betrayed his friendship and his confidence in me. I allowed my emotions to control my actions and my speech. I reckon this is what the Bible means when it says ‘the heart is deceitful and desperately wicked.’ I loved my sin more than the life of another human being. I am wretched. Despicable.”
“We both are.” She nodded. “Jah, we must confess. I have to try to lift this burden somehow. Maybe kneeling before the g’may will help. We deserve whatever punishment they choose to give.”
David nodded. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but he would endure whatever the g’may decided.
~
The boppli’s wail caused Beth to practically jump out of a dead sleep. She rocked the cradle beside the bed in an attempt to calm the little one, but he cried all the more.
She picked him up and held him close. “What is it, little one?”
Beth quickly rose from the bed and took the baby to the changing table. After his diaper was clean and dry, she brought him to her breast and allowed him to nurse for as long as he wanted.
She glanced at David, who groggily opened his eyes. She hadn’t wished to awaken him. He had a full workday ahead of him tomorrow. He reached over and caressed her arm, communicating his support.
“Sorry, lieb.” She frowned.
“It’s fine. Crying is what bopplin do, ain’t so?”
“Jah.” She removed the little one from her breast and handed him to David’s outstretched arms.
“I will take my sohn.” She caught the pleasure in his voice at the word sohn.
“Denki.” She watched as her husband took their son and placed him over his shoulder, gently patting his back.
Jah, David made a gut father for their little one.
They had yet to name the boppli, but a thought jumped into her mind. Ach, didn’t the best thoughts come in the middle of the night?
“How would you feel if we called him Jonathan, after your friend?” Beth smiled.
“Ach, Beth. That is perfect.” He leaned over and kissed her lips. “Jah, he will be called Jonathan.”
THIRTY-NINE
Little Jonathan was beautiful, perfect in every way. But she and David had sensed something wasn’t right. The boppli had continued to cry inconsolably and nothing they did seemed to help. He felt hot to the touch and she knew he was feverish. She and David both agreed he should be seen by a doctor.
Beth longed to hold their little one tight, but she could not. Not with all the gadgets the nurses had him hooked up to.
He’d now been in the hospital for several days and nobody knew what was wrong with him. Instead of getting better, his health seemed to deteriorate. The doctor had said something like, “failure to thrive.” What did that even mean?
She’d ask if there was anything she could do. The doctor had said, “Just be there for him, comfort him, and prayers wouldn’t hurt, either.”
The doctor’s words hadn’t boosted her confidence. In fact, they worried her even more. Was he expecting their boppli to die?
Nee, she wouldn’t be able to bear it if their son died.
God, please let him be okay. Please.
She’d been praying. Perhaps more now than any other time in her life. But it seemed God had turned a deaf ear to her prayer—either that or she’d been given her answer. No.
Of course, did she even have a right to ask anything of Der Herr after what she and David had done? Still, she had to try.
God, please. I know that we sinned. I know this child was conceived in lust and adultery. But it is not his fault. Please, Lord. Give me the punishment. Please don’t take this precious little one. I’m afraid the pain will be too much to bear—for me and for David. We have both lost so much already. Lord, my beloved weeps every day. He has not eaten anything in many days. I cannot bear to lose him too! Beth continued to pour out her heart to the Lord. Would she be able to make it if her baby and her husband died? She didn’t think so.
It had been so painful to lose Uri. Just getting through the day had been horrible, especially knowing she had betrayed him. The gut-wrenching guilt about did her in. He was a good man. A righteous man. And what had she been? She’d played the harlot, bringing the worst kind of dishonor to her husband—even after his death. He’d died in pity in the eyes of everyone who knew him.
She’d never heard the words audibly, but she’d read them in the countenances of those around her. Poor Uriah. He was such a good, Godly man. He deserved a better wife, not one that would run around when he was off making a living. And with the bishop, no less. No doubt, she seduced him because she wanted his money. And look how well her plan worked! Can you believe the bishop made her his wife? If there was ever one undeserving of such an honor, surely it is her. Beth King is a disgrace to the Amish people. She should be put in the Bann permanently. Painful tears trailed her cheeks. Yes, she could imagine their words very well.
She didn’t know how, but everyone had known about her and David. Although they had yet to go before the g’may and confess. Their misdeed might as well have been broadcast from the rooftops. But even if they hadn’t known about the act, her resulting pregnancy would have been a telltale sign. Be sure your sin will find you out. And find them out, it had.
“Shh…it’s okay, little one. Momma is here. It’s okay.”
As much as she attempted to console the boppli, his crying would not cease. She was at a loss of what to do. She wanted to go to David—for him to hold her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be all right. But David had not left the hospital chapel since arriving. The last time she’d peeked in on him, he’d been sprawled out on the floor pouring his heart out to Der Herr. Her heart twisted with all kinds of grief at the sight. How on earth would they survive another death?
Please, God. Have mercy.
~
David sat on the floor before the altar in the hospital’s chapel. He clenched a pillow in his hands, one he’d found in one of the small pews.
“Dear Lord God in Heaven, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He wept.
He’d never known a pain so great. It was as though someone had removed his heart from his chest and trampled it under a team of Percherons. He’d never felt so utterly helpless. Tears now flowed down his cheeks and into his beard and failed to cease. “Please, Lord, if You will, please spare Jonathan. Spare my little boy. God, I love him so so much. It is not his fault. He has done nothing wrong! It is me, Lord. It is my sin. I’m the one who should suffer for this, not him! Punish me, Lord, but please, let my baby live. I’d give all the possessions I own, anything, Lord, if You would just spare his life. I’m asking You, I’m begging You, God, please don’t take him. Please spare his life.” Anguish continued to pour from his lips, from his eyes, from his heart.
His entire being trembled. He’d never needed God’s intervention so desperately. “Oh, God! I can’t do this. I can’t bear this.”
David cried as he had only one other time in his life—when he’d lost Jonathan. But somehow this was different than losing his best friend. This was entirely his fault and he knew it. These were the grave consequences Nathan had mentioned, he was sure of it. His baby’s suffering was a direct result of his sin. His wife’s suffering was a result of his sin. Would to God that he had not brought this travesty upon his family, this shame upon the God of his people. But there was no going back to erase the past. It was done. And short of begging for God’s mercy, there was absolutely nothing in
his power that he could do now.
A light poured through one of the colorful stained-glass windows in the chapel, illuminating the scene depicted. Christ suffering on the cross at Calvary.
At that moment, something occurred to David that he had never thought of before. This must’ve been exactly how God felt when His Son died for the sins of mankind. Christ, like his boppli, had done nothing to deserve death. He was totally innocent, unworthy of the punishment He received. Yet, sin was what nailed Him to the cross. It was the sin of others that had caused His suffering, just like it was David’s sin that now caused his child to suffer. Oh, glorious day it will be when sin would be banished forever!
The light seemed to move and illuminated another panel of the stained glass window. This image depicted the Shepherd, the Saviour, walking amongst sheep. But he carried one of the lambs in His arms, close to his bosom.
The lamb in the Shepherd’s arms was his boppli, safe in the Father’s arms. But it was also him. The one lost sheep that had gone astray. No matter what pain he went through, no matter how far he strayed, Der Herr would not only come find him, but He would be with him, comfort him, and carry him through it.
“Denki, Lord. Denki.”
It was difficult for David, but he knew what he must pray for his son Jonathan. “Nevertheless, not my will, but Thine, Lord.”
FORTY
Beth stroked the boppli’s hand, continuing to offer prayers for healing. One of the machines stopped making its usual beeping sound and instead shrieked without stopping. The sound was ear-piercing.
Seconds later, nurses came pouring into the room. “You need to step out, ma’am.”
She did as told. What was going on?
The doctor rushed past her into the hospital room, causing her heart rate to increase.
A couple moments later, one of the nurses stepped out, summoning her inside the room.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. King, we tried everything we could.” The doctor frowned and his head hung low.
Beth’s eyes flew to little Jonathan. They’d draped a white sheet over his body. She ran to the cradle and lifted the sheet. His tiny body lay unmoving and lifeless.
She shook her head. “No!” Tears automatically poured from her eyes unbidden. “He can’t be gone. He can’t be!”
“We’re sorry, ma’am.” The nurse’s hand touched her shoulder.
Beth turned around and wept in the nurse’s arms. “We did all we could.”
“Is your husband here in the hospital? Is there a way you can reach him?” another nurse asked.
Beth sniffled. Forcing her tears away. Forcing herself to speak. Forcing her heart to continue beating. “He’s in the chapel.”
~
“Mr. King?”
David felt a hand on his shoulder blade and looked up. He hadn’t even heard anyone enter the chapel. He picked himself off the floor and stood to his feet. He stared at the nurse, able to discern all he needed to know in her eyes.
He wiped the moisture from his face. “My Jonathan is gone, ain’t so?”
“Yes. I’m afraid so.” The nurse nodded with a bereaved expression. “Your wife is still in the room with him.”
He nodded. “I will go to her.”
A moment later, he entered Jonathan’s room and Beth immediately fell into his arms as though she no longer had the strength to stand on her own. She sobbed hard, drenching his shirt with her tears. He held her tight, wishing with all his might he could shield her from this pain.
“Shh…” He attempted to show strength, gently rubbing her back. But he found it impossible to hold his own tears at bay. “It’ll be okay. He’s with Der Herr now.”
His words, which he meant for comfort, caused Beth to cry all the more. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to speak another word but simply be there for her. To hold her.
Please comfort mei fraa, Lord. Wrap Your arms around her.
How would they continue on with their lives from here? Yet, another loved one gone from their presence.
FORTY-ONE
How did one just go on after losing a loved one, especially a boppli? Beth didn’t know. Somehow, though, she continued to live. She continued to breathe. She continued to wake up. Every. Single. Day.
It seemed like that was all she did.
It was true that she slept, she ate a little, she cried more tears than she ever thought possible.
Life continued. Although it felt like it shouldn’t. Although it felt empty. Although it felt meaningless.
David had also seemed different somehow. She hadn’t seen him read his Bible lately. She hadn’t seen him praying. Not since they’d returned home from the hospital. Not since the funeral. Not since their boppli had left this world for the one beyond.
Perhaps that was how he dealt with grief. Perhaps he was just as lost—as numb—as she was.
But she needed him desperately. He was all she had left on this earth to cling to.
It was true that she had Grossdawdi. But although she’d seen to his care for many years, she and Grossdawdi had never had a close relationship.
And jah, some would say she had Der Herr. But right now, He felt very far away.
~
David paced the interior of his barn, thankful for Bishop Nathan’s listening ear. “I’m fighting a losing battle, it seems.”
“Remember, your battle is a spiritual one. There is only one way to fight it. What is happening on the outside is only evidence of what has been going on in your heart. Seek Him with your whole heart, David.”
“I feel like I have disappointed Der Herr so much. I’m not worthy of His mercy.”
“No one is worthy.” Nathan lightly touched his shoulder. “Listen, David. Do you think God didn’t see this before it happened? Do you think He didn’t know before you were even knit together in your mother’s womb? Jah, He did know. Yet He still called you out. He still chose you to lead His people. He sees your heart. He knows that you are but a man and that you are sinful. Do you think He expects perfection from you? Nee, He does not. He only expects you to follow Him with a pure heart. He expects you to respond to His prompting. He expects you to repent when you’re reproved. But He does not expect perfection. You are incapable of it this side of Heaven.”
David shook his head. He heard Nathan’s words but they failed to penetrate the numbness surrounding his heart. “I do not understand the ways of Der Herr.”
“Ach, there you go again. Have you forgotten my words to you? You are not asked to understand Him, David. You are asked to trust and obey Him, remember? That is your job. It is not for you to have understanding.”
“But I want to understand. I want to know why all these things are happening in my life. What is their purpose?”
“Perhaps if you learn to obey Him and trust Him, your understanding will grow. Like a child who cannot understand why a parent instructs them to do something. They do not understand at the time. But at some future date, when they are mature, then they understand.”
He certainly felt like a child right now. Helpless. Lost. “He feels so distant. So far away.”
“Ach, David. Der Herr will never abandon you. He promises to never leave us or forsake us. If Gott seems far away from you, it is because you have moved away, not him. Draw nigh unto God and He will draw nigh unto you. He wants to have fellowship with you. You are His child. He loves you. You of all people should know that no matter how many miles you walk away from Der Herr, it is still only one step back to Him. He will restore the joy of your salvation, if you just allow Him to. Let go of the reins. Give them to God. Give Him complete control over your life. I don’t know anyone who’s ever regretted doing that.”
Joy. A foreign concept indeed. But he’d once had it, hadn’t he? “I don’t know where to start.”
“Have you made your kneeling confession yet?”
“Nee.”
“That sounds like a gut place to start.” Nathan bowed his head. “Let us pray now.”
FORTY-TWO
There had been whisperings all morning long amongst the g’may, prior to the meeting. David figured it was due to Bishop Nathan’s presence. He also guessed they had a pretty gut idea why he was here. The wary glances the other leaders had given him evidenced that.
There had been few who had actually seen his and Beth’s boppli, but that was all it took to kindle the fires of gossip in this community. David wondered now, had little Jonathan survived, if he’d have been subject to whispering behind his back his entire life. A poor child conceived out-of-wedlock, in adultery. As though kinner had anything to do with the circumstances of their conception.
Jah, perhaps Der Herr had been right in taking their sweet one home. Der Herr had been right? David shook his head at his thoughts. It wasn’t as though Der Herr was ever wrong. Nee, Der Herr was always right.
Ach, was this the understanding Nathan had been referring to?
Hadn’t he prayed to God that His will be done? You are not asked to understand, you are asked to trust. Nathan’s words came back to him. Help me to trust You, Gott.
David sat on the ministers’ bench, quite possibly for the last time. Would this be his final address to this congregation he’d loved and served faithfully the past several years of his life—first as minister, then as bishop? Sorrow filled his heart. He’d disappointed his people. He’d disappointed his Gott.
And Beth Shetler, now his fraa, whom he’d pulled into his sin with him. He hadn’t only disappointed her. He’d caused her so much pain. He’d been the source of all her heartache.
All this could have been prevented, had he denied his lust, had he just said NO! to sin. Instead, he’d invited it in. He’d entertained it. He’d given it lodging. And now his single transgression had turned into a thousand, so it seemed.
Indeed, sin was a cruel master.
Ach, Herr Gott.
He watched as Nathan stood in front of the congregation.
David glanced over at Beth, who raised her head for a split second, and shared a sympathetic glance. How was his fraa holding up? This would not be a pleasant experience for either of them. They’d enjoyed the pleasures of sin for a season. But alas, sin had exacted its cost. And that cost was high. He feared it would be more than they could bear. My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.
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