Mary's Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Gerald snorted and threw them the reins. “Remember the Baptists dunk people all the way under the water when they baptize,” he teased. He stepped aside to wave goodbye.

  Danny Boy threw his head in the air with Betsy at the reins and trotted briskly out of the lane. Fifteen minutes later, they had maneuvered the sharp decline into town and were parked in front of the Baptist church.

  “We easily could have walked,” Mary commented as she climbed out and tied Danny Boy to a light pole.

  “We shouldn’t be walking alone after dark,” Betsy replied, for once agreeing with Mamm.

  Mary remained silent as she led the way inside. Several vehicles were parked around the building. The headlights of others had turned into the parking lot by the time Mary and Betsy reached the front doors.

  Mrs. Gabert was in the foyer, obviously waiting for them. “Oh, this is such a treat,” she gushed, giving both girls tight hugs. “I knew you would come. The Lord is doing such a great work through Willard’s life in Kenya. You have to hear the complete story, both of you. Welcome, welcome! Willard is in a prayer meeting with the pastor in his study, but they’ll be out soon.”

  Betsy’s face was aglow as Mrs. Gabert led them down a carpeted aisle to padded pews. These seats were nothing like the backless church benches they normally sat on for Amish services.

  “Isn’t this something?” Betsy leaned over to whisper. “And a prayer meeting in the pastor’s study. That’s a little like what the Amish ministers do.”

  “Hush!” Mary warned as Mrs. Gabert settled in the pew beside them. She smiled approvingly at both girls.

  True to Mrs. Gabert’s word, Willard appeared moments later in step with a young man who was obviously the pastor. Mary had expected someone older, but what did she know about Baptist preachers? Amish ministers came in all shapes and sizes, to say nothing of age.

  Willard’s gaze swept the gathered group and stopped at their pew. Mary looked away. Willard appeared pleased at the sight of them, but why shouldn’t he? He had invited Betsy and her. Weren’t people happy when their invitations were accepted?

  A piano began to play, and the smile on Betsy’s face grew. Maybe this wasn’t a goot idea after all. Mary may have played right into Betsy’s desire to jump the fence. She pushed the thought away and joined in the words of the familiar hymn. Betsy must be persuaded to stay in the community, but how? Mary didn’t know. She just trusted that the Lord would help them. The community offered too much for Betsy to leave her heritage for one so different from their own.

  The hymn concluded, and the pastor read a short Scripture. “Thank you for coming out tonight,” he said. After speaking for a few minutes, he concluded his brief remarks. “Now for the special event of the evening. We have one of our very own with us, missionary Willard Gabert. He is a man we can be proud of for his courage and compassionate heart as he works in Nairobi, Kenya, among the disadvantaged young boys of that city. Willard is back in the States for a short furlough, and he will fill us in on the progress of Agape Outreach.”

  The pastor smiled and motioned for Willard to join him behind the pulpit. As the pastor placed his hand on Willard’s shoulder and led another short prayer, Betsy’s smile nearly split her face. This was certainly different from an Amish church service. Mary was here to learn, not to criticize, but she would be able to enjoy the service more if Betsy wouldn’t act so impressed.

  Mary forced herself to focus on Willard as he began to speak. “Good evening, family, friends, and visitors. I want to welcome you here tonight, and I hope the Lord will give me the right words to convey His heart for the hurting and lost children of Kenya.”

  The man was handsome. Mary had to admit that, but there were many handsome men in the world. Willard’s physical appearance had nothing to do with her. She was here to learn about his work in Kenya. She held her breath when Willard looked right at their pew.

  “But before I say more, I want to welcome two Amish women who are here this evening. Both of them are dear friends of my grandmother.” Willard smiled sweetly at Mrs. Gabert. “I don’t know either of them that well, but Grandma speaks of them as if they are angels.” There were ripples of laughter throughout the church house. “Please join me in welcoming Mary and Betsy Yoder.”

  After a short round of applause from the audience, Mary guessed her face must be the color of sun-ripened tomatoes. Betsy, on the other hand, appeared pleased enough to burst.

  Thankfully, Willard soon turned on a projector to display a map on the church wall. In the semidarkness, Mary could breathe again.

  “This is Kenya, the gateway to Africa for many Christian organizations.” Willard turned and smiled at the congregation. “If you ever visit us, be sure and hang on tightly to your purses and bags. In Kenya, the opinion of the general population is that if you own two items of any object, you have too many and should share with someone else.” Chuckles rippled through the congregation again. Willard grinned. “Kenya is Christian in name, but in reality vestiges of pagan customs exist, resulting in a mishmash of strange beliefs. But we will not go into that tonight. Suffice it to say that even though everyone is willing to lift your extras, they do have fierce objections to thievery. Once a thief is caught, he is often publicly executed by vigilantes. The favored method is to stack a ring of tires around the suspect, douse the ring with gasoline, and light the person on fire.”

  A gasp of horror went through the sanctuary, and Mary clutched the pew in front of her until her fingers hurt. The image of charred bodies sent a shudder through her. Nothing in the community had prepared her for such a vicious existence. She glanced at Betsy, who was similarly transfixed, her gaze glued to Willard’s face.

  “This leads directly to the mission work I do,” Willard continued. “Sadly, children—mostly young boys—are either tasked by their parents or are driven to thievery by their extreme poverty, and they are often caught because of their inexperience. If a child is released or manages to escape the clutches of the vigilantes, there is no choice for him but to flee the village where he lives. Many of them do so by riding on the chassis of the buses, which connect the countryside with the large towns.

  “Stories are told of boys who ride the buses into Nairobi for up to sixteen hours. Some of them don’t survive the journey, and those who do end up on the streets with nowhere to call home. The police are under great pressure to keep the city presentable, so they’ve been known to abuse street children. After taking the children out of town, where they administer severe beatings, they tell the children to return to where they came from. With the threat of death waiting at home, the children are unlikely to choose that option. Such journeys are impossible for them.”

  The silence in the church was complete. Mary slid forward on her seat, and Betsy glanced at her and mouthed the words, “That is awful.”

  Mary nodded and turned her attention back to Willard.

  “Our mission is to make contact with these lost children,” Willard went on. “Many of them, by the time we find them, are addicted to sniffing glue. That is why we call them ‘glue boys.’ They breathe the fumes and quickly reach a numbed state in which even hunger doesn’t bother them. Addiction occurs, of course, but thankfully it can be broken with greater ease than other addictions. A week of withdrawal sometimes is enough. The worst outcome is permanent brain damage, and after that has occurred, almost nothing can be done.

  “Our method of contact with these boys is to develop friendships with them, because the police brutality has created an atmosphere of severe distrust. They must come to our mission willingly and stay on the same basis. Some do. Others leave after a short stay. Some leave and come back again. We offer education and opportunities for them to return to their communities, where they are often welcomed after being educated by a relief agency. If all else fails, we help them establish themselves in Nairobi. At least, that’s our goal. The mission was founded some twenty years ago, and I have been the director for the past two years.”

 
Mary settled back into her seat as Willard concluded his remarks. As the offering plate was passed, Willard stayed on the platform for a question and answer session. Her mind raced. This was a world she knew nothing about. A world of sorrow and pain far removed from the influence of the community. She desperately wanted to help. She had taken her own hopes for granted. These boys never had a chance.

  The image of tires and burning flames danced in front of Mary’s eyes. She dug in her satchel and found a twenty-dollar bill to drop in the offering plate. She might never go to sleep tonight.

  “We should go,” Betsy whispered in her ear a few minutes later. “The service is over.”

  Half of the congregation had begun to leave the building, while the others thronged forward to shake Willard’s hand and pepper him with more questions.

  Willard had told Mary to wait so they could speak, but at the moment she would be unable to say anything. Mary nodded to Betsy, and they slipped out of the church house to untie Danny Boy from the streetlight pole. Only the clip-clop of his hooves filled the silence as they trotted up the street and headed out of town.

  FIFTEEN

  Mary set the last dish on the breakfast table the following morning. Faint noises came from the mudroom, where Daett and Gerald washed up after the morning chores. She had slept restlessly all night thinking about Kenya and the glue boys. The awful image of emaciated limbs and gaunt eyes haunted her memory, along with Willard’s concerned face as he told the stories.

  Daett greeted her with a smile. “Goot morning. How did the talk go at the Baptist church last night?”

  “Sit yourself at the table first, Kenneth,” Mamm ordered. “Mary’s getting ready to tell us the details. I’ve only heard snippets myself.”

  Daett’s chair squeaked as he sat down.

  Gerald made a face. “How much money did you leave in the offering plate?”

  “Gerald!” Betsy chided. “I gave nothing, but I think Mary did.”

  “See?” Gerald gloated. “That’s what Baptist churches do. They are only after your money.”

  Betsy glared at him, but Mary silenced her sister with a motion of her hand. “I did give a little, which seemed like nothing after hearing Willard talk about the great needs in Nairobi. I am thankful we were invited to attend. Never have I heard the needs in another country described in such stark terms. Here we have wunderbah food this morning, but over in Kenya, some boys live off glue bottles and have no home but the streets.”

  Gerald huffed and changed the subject. “The food is getting cold. Seat yourself, Mary, so we can eat.”

  A retort died on her lips. She must be understanding of others who hadn’t heard what Betsy and she did.

  “Let us pray,” Daett said as Mary settled in her seat. They all bowed their heads.

  “Our Father, who art in heaven,” Daett began, “we give You thanks for the abundance of food You have laid out in front of us this morning, and we remember those in other countries who are not so blessed.”

  Mary lifted her head at the “amen.”

  “So.” Daett waited while Gerald served himself a generous helping of eggs and bacon. “What was this all about last night?”

  “We should be very thankful for our sheltered life,” Betsy muttered with a glare toward Gerald.

  Mamm’s eyes lit up. “So you did learn important things?”

  “I learned about Nairobi, Kenya,” Betsy retorted.

  Mary hushed her sister with a shake of her head. “What Betsy means is that Willard heads a mission for street children in Kenya. Both of us were very moved, and I would like to help in whatever way I can. The twenty dollars I placed in the offering plate doesn’t seem like near enough.”

  Gerald grunted with his mouth full. “There is always money involved.”

  Daett smiled as he filled his own plate. “I think you’ll find that most of life needs money to function, Gerald. That is no sin.”

  “Especially for mission work,” Betsy got in edgewise.

  Gerald gave his sister a glare but otherwise remained silent.

  Mamm smiled toward Mary. “We are glad to see you taking such an interest in something, Mary. Not that you weren’t doing well, but you did have me worried there a bit.”

  “She mopes too much,” Gerald agreed, before taking a huge mouthful again.

  “Mary does not!” Betsy retorted. “She has been doing very well.”

  Gerald ignored the barb and grinned. “I heard that Stephen Overholt is ready to ask Mary home from the hymn singing. He’s been talking up a storm about his plans and how he knows the will of the Lord. That would be a better distraction than Baptist meetings and Kenyan glue children.”

  Horror filled Betsy’s face. “How can you say that, Gerald? The man is…he’s…” Words for once failed Betsy.

  “Am I the only one who sees any danger in this?” Gerald waved his spoon about. “Baptist meetings? Who is this Willard anyway?”

  “Mrs. Gabert’s grandson,” Betsy shot back, as if that answered everything.

  “He’s an Englisha man, and Mary’s grieving. Is he handsome?”

  “How can you be so horrid?” Betsy spat. “If Mary falls for the man, I would support her totally.”

  Daett spoke up. “I think Mary has her heart in the right place. I’m with Mamm in thinking that Mary’s interest in Kenyan children is goot. How we can help, I am not sure. Maybe we can pray.” Daett sent a smile in Mary’s direction before he turned to Betsy. “But you should not encourage anyone to leave the community, and that goes for yourself.”

  Betsy bowed her head and remained silent.

  “I think Mary should accept Stephen’s offer,” Gerald continued. “At least she would be married to an Amish man.”

  “You…Gerald, how could you?” Betsy sputtered. “The man gives me the creeps.”

  “Stephen is a stable member of the community,” Daett said. “Be careful about your personal feelings, Betsy. No one is asking you to consider the man as your husband.”

  “And neither should anyone ask Mary to consider him.”

  “That’s up to Mary, I think,” Daett said.

  “See, you are considering him!” Betsy wailed. “I can’t stand this.” She turned to Mary. “Please tell me you won’t entertain even the slightest, littlest, tiniest thought of allowing Stephen to bring you home from the hymn singing. I would have to leave the house for the evening.”

  Mary waited a moment before she answered. “Why are we talking about Stephen? I hoped to stay on the subject of Willard’s talk last night.”

  “Because the thought of you courting in Stephen’s buggy sends shivers up and down my spine,” Betsy said. “After Josiah! Mary, think! You deserve better than that.”

  “Betsy?” Daett chided. “Mary has to make her own choice.”

  Betsy threw her hands in the air. “Mary needs someone handsome, kind, and caring, with a heart like Willard Gabert’s.”

  “See? I told you. There is danger in the air,” Gerald said.

  “Gerald, please.” Mamm frowned at her son. “The idea of Mary falling for an Englisha man is impossible. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Maybe,” Gerald said, huffing. “I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t mean to slight your character. I was caught up with the thought, I guess.”

  “Maybe other girls would cause questions, but not Mary,” Mamm said. “Now can we please move on to another subject?”

  “We have confidence in you, Mary,” Daett encouraged her. “And we support any help you want to give this Kenyan venture. I don’t know how you can help, but you have our blessing.”

  “Thank you, Daett.” Mary kept her head down. Her face must be blazing red after Betsy and Gerald’s insinuations. Was there doubt in her own heart about Willard? Could she fall for an Englisha man? The thought was completely absurd. She was an Amish woman who would marry an Amish man, and that was that.

  “We wish you the best.” Mamm patted Mary on the shoulder. “Now, if we’re finished chat
ting, can we pray again and get on with the day?”

  Daett nodded, and they all bowed their heads in the closing prayer of thanks. Gerald bolted out the mudroom door a second after the “amen,” and Daett followed at a slower pace. “Have a goot day, everyone,” he called over his shoulder.

  Mary busied herself with clearing the table. After Mamm left the kitchen, Betsy worked quietly by her sister’s side. “I’m sorry I lost my temper,” she finally ventured. “Gerald just gets to me.”

  Mary forced a smile. Her siblings should not be blamed for their concerns. She would have to walk carefully, even with the confidence Mamm and Daett had expressed in her. “It’s okay, Betsy. Do you have any ideas about how we could help in Kenya?”

  Betsy shrugged, her hands full of dirty dishes. “I was moved last night by Willard’s words, but I don’t know what could be done from here. I mean, you’re Amish.” Betsy made a face.

  “Why is that a problem?” Mary protested. “An Amish woman should be able to help somehow.”

  “Your savings are pretty small.” Betsy grimaced again. “That’s the only idea that comes to me.”

  Silence fell between them as they worked in the kitchen. Once the dishes were finished, Mary left to peek into the sewing room. “I’m leaving, Mamm. You have a goot day.”

  “The Lord be with you,” Mamm told her with a smile. “If you figure out how we can help the mission in Kenya, let us know.”

  “I will.”

  She grabbed her coat and shawl to step outside. The wind blowing in from the Adirondack foothills was brisk. She would have to start using the buggy to get to work soon, but she needed the bracing cold on her face this morning.

  Now that she was alone, her siblings’ insinuations about Willard brought flashes of heat into her face. Maybe she should abandon all interest in the Kenyan glue boys—but wouldn’t that confirm Gerald’s accusation? She wasn’t one to back down from where her heart led, and a sudden change in interest could not be easily explained to her family.