“Maybe because they want to sleep sometime before morning,” Kathy said. “You’re immune to it.”
“Make the poor things decaf, then,” Roy said.
“She doesn’t have any,” Kathy said.
“I just keep regular around for visitors,” Hannah explained. “We don’t drink coffee.”
“What a shame.”
Roy was served his coffee in due course and actually got Jake to try some, “Just a splash or so in the bottom of the cup,” as Jake put it. After that Hannah had to try some at her father’s insistence. “Just in case,” he said, “Jake can’t sleep, you’ll be awake together.”
But neither Jake nor Hannah was affected by the caffeine, and both were sleepy before her parents were. Kathy shooed them to bed. “You don’t have to wait up for us. Roy and I are quite capable of putting ourselves to bed.”
After she blew out the kerosene lamp, Hannah snuggled up to Jake and decided, sleepy or not, it was time to talk about his job.
“So with this new job, we won’t move this fall?” she whispered.
“Don’t you think we can make it with the work from the hardware store?” he asked. “It’ll get us through the winter, at least. If things still don’t pick up, perhaps then we can think about a move.”
“But the winter—” she whispered.
He turned toward her. “We have to experience at least one Montana winter. Wouldn’t you always feel bad if you’d missed it now that you’re so close?”
“I don’t know about that. I used to think so.”
“It’s just hard for me to make such a choice,” he said. “I would want to do what you want. But I have to know it’s right for us.”
“I know that,” she said, “and I’m glad. But wouldn’t it be nice to be in Indiana with a good steady job? To have Mom and Dad close?”
“Yes, it would,” he said, “but we have to be sure. Maybe God wants us here.”
“Why would He want that?” she asked and sat upright in the bed. Did Jake know something she didn’t?
“I don’t know why,” Jake said. At least he sounded genuinely puzzled. “It’s just a small community here. They can always use more people.”
“You wouldn’t stay just because of that, would you?”
“No,” he said and rolled over. “I just don’t know. That’s all there is to it.”
Jake’s breathing soon evened out, and Hannah let her worries go and drifted slowly off to sleep. The distinct sound of her parent’s voices rose and fell from the living room, taking her back to her girlhood memories. It was a pleasant way to fall asleep.
Sixteen
With the prior arrangement to take Roy and Kathy to church, the driver of the van showed up early, for which Hannah was thankful. To arrive late would be an embarrassment, and blaming a van driver wouldn’t pass as an excuse.
She and Jake had decided they might as well go along with Roy and Kathy instead of driving their buggy.
They left at a quarter after eight and arrived at Mullet Troyer’s, where church was held, about half an hour later. The driver stopped short of the barnyard, uncertain where to park. The older Troyer son stepped out from the line of men and motioned for the driver to park in a grassy spot behind the barn and away from the buggies.
The group split up at the driveway. Jake and Roy joined the men in front of the barn, and Kathy and Hannah walked to the house. Betty met them at the front door with a happy “Good morning,” as she allowed her arms to linger briefly around each of their shoulders. Betty was a touchy person, and if this hadn’t been church, she probably would have given them each a hug.
“It’s sure a nice morning,” Kathy observed.
“Yes it is—just perfect for sitting inside all day,” Betty stated matter-of-factly.
That was another thing about Betty. She just said things, and usually people weren’t offended. Though everyone knew the all-day church service, which today would end with communion, would be arduous, they didn’t mention the subject. They wouldn’t say a thing even when it was a sunny fall day and they were trapped inside with their backsides flattened for six or more hours on a hard, backless board bench. Communion Sunday was supposed to be a holy time, a time of reflection on the Scriptures, one’s sins, and one’s place in life.
For a moment, Hannah remembered a minister was supposed to be ordained today. The thought was quickly lost, though, as Betty led the way around the circle of women, and each greeted them in turn.
The service then began, and when the singing time had ended, the ministers came down from upstairs and the preaching started. Bishop Nisley had the first sermon. He started with Genesis and told the story up to Noah’s escape from the flood in his ark. No notes, no Bible, just a quotation of facts and general plot line by memory.
A minister Hannah didn’t know had the next sermon. Apparently he had come along with the van load, although neither of her parents had mentioned him. He went from Noah’s entry into the new world, washed clean by the flood, up to the time of Christ’s birth.
When the hands of the living room clock advanced past twelve, Bishop Nisley dismissed them for lunch.
Because the day was so nice, everyone poured into the yard for lunch, taking the short benches they could find with them. Mullet gave others chairs until there were no more. He and his family then ate inside at the kitchen table. Kathy found a spot in the yard, and Jake and Roy, quick to grab two of the short benches while they were to be had, joined her.
Hannah found Jake’s boldness amusing today. She assumed it came from the fact Roy was along, and that gave Jake a sort of visitor’s rights. Normally, Jake would have been the last to take a bench. He would have settled, as some had to, with one of the long, awkward benches.
They ate their lunch to the chatter of voices all around them, families kept intact by the circled benches. Only when everyone was finished did general visiting occur. Several people stopped by to speak with Roy and Kathy. Eventually Bishop Nisley made an announcement from the front door that services were to resume.
The long afternoon began. Bishop Amos Yoder made his way slowly through the Gospel accounts and worked up to the crucifixion of Christ. The Amish believed the Scripture instructed them to tell the story of Christ’s suffering each time they partook of the cup and broke the bread. Only if they started at the beginning would the story make sense—or the best sense. To them, communion was a time for the best.
Two and a half hours later, Amos arrived at the end of the story and began to pass around the bread and wine. They used one cup because that was the way Christ served it. Hannah did appreciate that Bishop Nisley used a cloth to wipe the rim after each person handed the cup back to him. Some ministers didn’t. Because her back ached from the hours of sitting on a hard bench, she was glad the service had arrived at this point.
When the time came for feet washing, when normally they would be dismissed and find relief from the day-long service, Hannah noticed tension in the air. It was only then she remembered an ordination was yet to be performed. Since morning Hannah had not once thought about the ceremony, considering the matter none of her concern. There were at least ten married men in the local congregation older than Jake and several the same age as Jake. Ben and Sylvia Stoll came to mind, but she didn’t consider Ben a likely candidate. A man had to receive at least three votes to be placed in the lot.
With age and experience as measuring points, Hannah decided on the spot to vote for Henry Wengerd. She and the other women would vote along with the men because, for all their traditional norms, the Amish believed in equality of the sexes in regard to voting.
As he announced the vote was soon to be taken, Bishop Amos said it was the Lord’s will—not man’s ability—that was to guide the voting. What that meant, Hannah wasn’t certain. He then instructed them to file into the kitchen where each vote would be noted. Nothing more and nothing less, some man’s life would be altered forever by these simple instructions. Amish ordination had little to do with
personal calling. The voice of the church was all that was necessary. Hannah pondered this, wondering if Henry Wengerd would consider her vote—and likely that of two others—reason enough to have his life so drastically upset.
The long line of men began to move quickly. Apparently everyone had made their minds up in record time, or perhaps they just wanted to get home. The women started, and Hannah stood up when the time came for her bench to take its turn. Sylvia Stoll, who was next in line behind Hannah, waited outside the kitchen while Hannah went up to the kitchen table and whispered Henry Wengerd’s name to Bishop Nisley.
Hannah was curious as to who else had received votes and wished Bishop Nisley didn’t have his piece of paper so well covered up. She was glad, though, that he couldn’t read her naughty thoughts. She then returned to her seat as Sylvia walked into the kitchen.
Sylvia soon joined Hannah back at their bench, and the two waited as the young girls spoke their choices to the bishop in the kitchen. Five minutes later, Bishop Amos stood up and glanced down at the paper Bishop Nisley gave him. Because there was no deacon in this young church, Bishop Nisley had brought along the books to use in the selection of the new minister. Three books were placed on the bench in preparation for the revelation of the new minister. In one of those books, a providential piece of paper had been placed. Hannah shivered at the thought.
Bishop Amos cleared his throat. “We have three names given to us by the voice of the church. Each of these brethren is to come up and choose a book. Will each man come forward in the order of these names? Henry Wengerd.” Hannah felt a deep stab of guilt at her part in this. “Ben Stoll.” Beside her Sylvia burst into quiet sobs. “And Jake Byler.”
Hannah felt her whole body turn ice cold. It could not be! Not Jake. He is too young. There are surely others who are more qualified.
Hannah sat numbly as she watched the three men pass in front of her like trees. Henry went first, his step firm, and then Jake, his face as pale as the frost on their bedroom window. Ben followed, a great hulk of a figure, swaying forward as if he carried a load of logs too heavy to bear.
Without a word, Henry took the middle book, Jake took the one to the left, and Ben took what was left over. And so the fates of the three men were sealed. Amos came forward without hesitation and glanced at the clock as if he were in a hurry to get this over with. Hannah was surprised she could even breathe. What has gotten into these church people to vote for two such young men? Has the world gone mad?
Henry was the one most qualified. Surely God would intervene and overrule the peoples’ lack of understanding in this matter. Henry was the only choice that made sense, and Hannah clung to that hope while she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. Jake would surely faint if his book had the piece of paper. Never had they spoken of such a thing.
Bishop Amos opened Henry’s book, flipped through it, turned it upside down, and gave it a little shake. The paper was not to be found. Next, Bishop Amos took Jake’s book, opened it, and then paused. Instantly Hannah knew the paper was there because of the look on Jake’s face. His eyes were wild, as if he was seeing a vision too horrible to imagine.
Bishop Amos held the piece of white paper in his hand and pronounced, “We have found the will of the church and the will of God. Will you please kneel, brother?”
Jake didn’t move for the longest time, and Hannah was sure Bishop Amos would have to repeat the order. Slowly Jake slid to the hardwood floor, his hands clasped in front of him.
“By the will of God and by the voice of the church,” Bishop Amos said, laying his hands on Jake’s hands, “you have been chosen to the high and holy office of minister. You are to serve in humility, in the power of the Holy Spirit, to rebuke, to exhort, to succor those who are ill in body and spirit, to give warning to the erring, and in all times and seasons to fulfill your calling.”
Bishop Amos then gave Jake his hand and helped him to his feet. He kissed Jake as did Bishop Nisley and the other local minister, Mose Chupp.
Beside Hannah, Sylvia was quiet, her sobs abated. Even in her dulled state of awareness, Hannah was certain Sylvia had pulled away and tried to put distance between them. She, Hannah, was now a minister’s wife. It happened so suddenly, so abruptly, like a shooting star falling out of heaven and onto her head. From now on, the other women would feel she was different from them, regardless of how much she wasn’t. She could no longer be just Hannah Byler.
Bishop Amos dismissed the service. The space on the bench to each side of her emptied, but she stayed seated, unable to move.
Dimly she became aware of her mother and then Betty, approaching from either side. Her senses registered arms around her shoulders. Their tightness gripped her. They stayed that way—the three of them intertwined—until the dam broke and the tears flowed. They wept together as one for a life that would never be the same again.
Seventeen
As the two couples climbed into the waiting van, Hannah felt intensely out of place. She was surrounded by the yard full of Amish buggies, and today of all days, when she was now a minister’s wife, they had to climb into a van to go home. Jake’s buggy would at least have provided some level of comfort, of sameness. It would have supplied the feeling that she was still one of them. Instead, she felt even more alone, surrounded by black hats and shawl-wrapped women.
She still burned with the intensity of her own feelings and had yet to look at Jake’s face. The driver of the van looked curiously at them as they climbed in. Perhaps, Hannah thought, he is wondering if Amish communion services always produce such sober-faced men and tear-stained women.
The driver said nothing, though, and minded his own business, whether out of good manners or simply from past experience driving Amish. It didn’t matter at the moment to Hannah. She was just glad there were no questions.
The sight of Jake’s shoulder beside her on the van seat brought back the memory of his frightened face when the bishop opened the book. With the memory came her first feelings of sympathy for Jake. If this was hard on her, how must this affect him? He was the one who would be doing the work required of a preacher.
Hannah slipped her hand around Jake, found his arm on the other side, and tightened her grip. Jake didn’t look at her, but his face became a little less sober. She let her head lean against him, not caring how it might look to the van driver, who glanced briefly in his rearview mirror.
When they arrived home and were out of the van, Roy stayed behind to speak with the driver to arrange to be picked up Wednesday morning. Hannah and Kathy followed Jake silently into the house.
The stillness of the cabin was what struck Hannah the most. She had never thought of their home as being so silent, but it seemed so now, as if it held its breath along with them. She stood for a few moments and listened until a sudden pop of moving logs relieved her of the tension.
“Well.” It was all Kathy could find to say. Jake had simply seated himself on the couch and was staring straight ahead.
“We have to get some supper,” Hannah said.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Kathy agreed.
“I wonder if anyone will be hungry?”
“It’ll be good to eat…for Jake. We haven’t had anything since lunch. It’s later than you think.”
Hannah glanced at the clock, surprised. “The whole day seemed long,” she said.
“In some ways, it’s the same day as always, and yet how things change,” Kathy said in a low voice.
“What are we going to do?” Hannah asked. “We’re so young.”
Before her eyes passed the things required of Amish ministers. They stood in front of congregations, spoke sometimes for an hour at a time, left on Sunday mornings for the upstairs council meeting, were in on all church problems, made general decisions on things great and small, had to provide counsel for any member who needed it, and brought correction and rebuke to those who disobeyed the church Ordnung.
Her Jake, nervous in public Jake, who had started praying out lo
ud at home only recently, would now have to read long prayers in public, stand and speak without any help, and all in a very short time. How soon, Hannah didn’t know as she had never paid attention to such things, but surely it would come quickly.
“How soon before he has to preach?” Hannah asked.
“About a month, I think,” Kathy replied. “That’s about how much time they give them to get ready.”
“Ready…” Hannah said, more a statement than a question.
“I know,” Kathy said. “It doesn’t seem very long, now that you think about it.”
Hannah was silent as she considered that in just four Sundays her Jake would be up there in front of the whole church. The thought made her fingers go cold.
“God will help you,” Kathy said, adding, “I guess,” as if she had some question about it.
“Jake is alone in the living room,” Hannah said. “Maybe we ought to be with him.”
“Probably,” Kathy agreed. She was moving toward the door when Roy came in. She stopped, waiting for a moment.
“Maybe Dad will talk to him,” Hannah whispered, “since supper needs to be made.”
“Food will do him good,” Kathy suggested again.
“Let’s just heat up leftovers, then.”
Hannah lit the stove, the flame catching with the first match, and Kathy went outside to retrieve the meat, gravy, and fruit Jell-O from the springhouse. While her mother was gone, Hannah heard her father clear his throat and then begin talking to Jake in the living room.
“I know this was unexpected, son, but such things usually are. We just never know what the Lord has in mind on these matters.”
Jake must have nodded because Roy continued after a brief silence.
“It comes, though, with great honor, this office does. You are one of few who are called to lead our people. Not many receive this good burden. I know in this hour it doesn’t feel so good. It feels probably the exact opposite, like your world has come to an end.”
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