by Sarah Price
CHAPTER FOUR
October 11, 2015
WHEN SHE AWOKE on Sunday, Grace felt a sense of anticipation, an eagerness that made her feel much younger than her sixty-eight years. Today, three young men and two women were going to accept their baptism and, by taking their kneeling vows, commit to following the Ordnung, the unwritten rules of the Amish community that would guide their daily lives. It was an important day for many reasons. For Grace, it brought back memories of her own baptism and how her life had changed when she acknowledged her commitment, not just to the Amish religion and way of life, but to the Lord Jesus Christ.
Only other baptized members of the g’may came to this worship service, which meant the smaller children remained at home with an older sibling. Mothers with infants were permitted to bring them, of course. But as a rule, it was a members-only event. Though the service was no different from other worship services, with the exception of a shorter second sermon in order to accommodate the baptism ceremony, it sent a strong signal to the unbaptized that unless they committed to the church, they were not truly a part of the community.
Last year, their g’may had only two newly baptized members. This year, everyone was quite excited to see five young adults vowing to become members of the Amish church. Of course, back in her day, there might have been as many as ten accepting the baptism. With more expansive farms then and, ultimately, larger families, there were more young adults in each church district. Joining the church was a rite of passage that very few youths questioned.
Today, the church districts were splintered. Highways cut through districts, and suburban developments intercepted the pockets of farmland. Since Grace now lived on the edge of a developed neighborhood, her g’may had more elderly people than families with youth. The district had split three years ago, and the way the lines had been drawn, only a few farms, mayhaps ten in all, remained on their side. Most of the farms, and therefore the majority of the youths, fell on the other side of the newly drawn district line.
There had been a time when the Amish leaders worried about the growth of the church. Because the Amish never evangelized, the only new members were the offspring who chose to accept the baptism. When Grace was growing up, most Amish lived on expansive farms that were handed down from generation to generation. Little by little, as farms were split between sons, diminishing in size while the population increased, more Amish men had to venture out to seek other occupations.
And then that unfortunate movie came out, the one that introduced Lancaster County to the entire country. It was 1985, the year that changed everything in their community. Though Grace had never seen the movie (or any movie for that matter), she’d heard enough to know that it introduced the Amish way of life to the Englische. It had even been filmed on a farm in Strasburg, a fact that had many tongues wagging over just how such a thing could have occurred in their area.
The farm had been vacant, and the film crew rented it. Suddenly, the world knew about the Amish, and as a result, curious tourists began to visit the area, attracted by the local prices of goods, substantially lower than their Englische counterparts. As word spread, tourists began flocking to the area, big hotels were built, roads became increasingly clogged with cars and buses, and Englische developments ate up farmland.
The Amish looked at the tourism as a necessary evil because their local economy had become less and less equipped to sustain their growing population. With fewer farms available, tourism was adding much-needed income for the local population as more Amish began working among the Englische. Their exposure to the outside world increased on a daily basis; the convenience of technology and other modern amenities became a necessity for some. And that exposure brought about a decline in the numbers of Amish youth joining the church. Many opted for the less conservative Mennonite church, especially those who had no expectations of being able to own a farm of their own. Others, unable to decide whether to remain within their own g’may or join another church, didn’t join any church at all.
When baptism day arrived, everyone rejoiced at the entry of new members to their faith. Grace knew that the parents felt pride to see their children bow before the bishop and affirm their faith, something that would have been unquestioned only a few decades ago. She remembered well how she had felt when Ivan, Linda, and Susan had joined the church. It was a testament to their upbringing and a moment of unspoken pride for all parents.
Standing in front of her dresser, she assessed her appearance in the mirror. Her black dress and apron, freshly starched and ironed, were pinned properly, and her prayer kapp was positioned flawlessly atop her head so that the heart-shaped garment, smaller than what the younger women wore, peeked over the top of her head. Her eyes lingered for a moment on her face. Sixty-eight, she thought. The wrinkles under her eyes and creases in her forehead told the story of many years spent working hard in the garden and helping Menno in the fields. Her age showed, and she felt tired—tired mostly from missing Menno and worrying about her future.
What would she do? Living alone never was part of her vision. She felt as if she had a lot of life left in her. But could she live it without her Menno? Was it possible to live without the man who, for fifty years, had stood by her side through the good and the bad? Did she even want to?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the rapid succession of knocks at her kitchen door. That would be Hannah, eager to get going to the worship service. Hannah and her husband, James, had offered to take Grace with them since the baptism service was being held at one of the large farms, a good two miles away. After Menno died, Grace gave their horse and buggy to Ivan. She was too old to take care of a horse every day, and she didn’t fancy the idea of harnessing the horse every time she wanted to go somewhere. It wasn’t fair to the horse, Grace had rationalized. But in truth, it was not fair to her.
“Coming, Hannah,” Grace called out. She shut her bedroom door behind herself, more from habit than necessity, and hurried down the narrow hallway toward the door. She paused to grab her black wool shawl and black drawstring bag before hurrying out.
The sun was barely cresting over the horizon as the horse and buggy traveled down the road. Up ahead, another buggy was headed in the same direction, most likely a neighbor also on the way to the worship service. No one spoke in the buggy; it was too early for conversation. Instead, the horse’s hooves beating against the macadam, even and rhythmic, and the gentle humming of the buggy’s wheels kept Grace preoccupied.
She listened to the noise, a song in itself, and one that she missed hearing. She watched the horse twitching its ears as if anticipating a command from the driver. James held the reins in his hands, occasionally moving one slightly to keep the horse trotting straight, instead of getting distracted by something along the road.
When the horse and buggy finally turned down the lane to the farm, Grace felt a new wave of peace flow through her. She missed living on a farm: the smell of cows, the sight of silos, and the sounds of the windmill. But, oh, the good memories that came back to her! Memories of early morning milkings, afternoons spent in the garden, and evenings spent looking out across the fields as she sat next to Menno in their rocking chairs on the small porch that Menno had built just for these peaceful respites.
After James stopped, young men hurried to assist the older women as they climbed from the buggy. Grace walked slowly toward the house, staring at the barn. She could hear the cows moving in the rear paddock. One of the cows mooed and she smiled, her mind drifting back to memories of farm life—such wunderbarr gut memories of working alongside Menno.
“Come along, Grace!” Hannah called from the doorway.
“Ja, ja!” Grace picked up her pace and hurried to join her friend as they entered the farmhouse.
The women were gathering in the large kitchen. They stood in a line, a sea of black silhouettes, greeting each newcomer. Grace made her way through, offering a handshake to each woman while leaning forward to give her a kiss, the typical greeting of the women atte
nding worship service.
Esther Wagler, however, pulled Grace aside.
“I simply must speak to you!”
Grace flustered at this unexpected interruption of the typical routine at worship. “I really should greet the other women.” Even though Esther, like Grace, was a comparatively young widow, Grace had avoided Esther’s attempts to commiserate with her. Though she liked Esther well enough, being in her presence reminded Grace of the open wound in her heart. She knew what people thought when they saw the two women together: widows. It was a distasteful word for Grace and one she was not inclined to accept. Not just yet. At least when she was in the company of married women, Grace could pretend that nothing had changed.
Still, Esther ignored her protest. She pulled Grace away from the line and led her through the doorway of the pantry, far enough so that no one could overhear her.
“I must admit to being curious, Esther,” Grace admitted. She hoped no one thought her impertinent. The last thing she’d want to do was offend anyone.
Dismissively waving her hand, Esther slipped a piece of paper into Grace’s hand. The touch of the coarse parchment caused Grace to catch her breath and she looked down at it. It was cream colored and folded twice. Hesitantly, she unfolded it and held it at arm’s length since her reading glasses were in her bag. All it said was two words: Song 51.
“Oh.” Her response was nothing more than a whisper.
“What does it mean, then?” Esther asked, peering over her shoulder.
Quickly, Grace refolded the paper and tried to catch her breath. “Why did you give this to me?”
“Why, someone left me an envelope in my mailbox yesterday.”
Grace frowned.
Esther continued to explain. “There was a simple note inside that asked if I would give this to you today.”
“Where’s that note?”
Esther shook her head. “I’m sorry, Grace. I threw it out. I wasn’t thinking.”
“And I guess it wasn’t signed?”
Again Esther shook her head.
Secret sister strikes again, Grace thought. She clutched the paper in her hand and glanced around the room. She half-expected someone to be watching her as if anticipating her reaction. But no one seemed to be looking in her direction.
“Vell?” Esther said. “What does it mean?”
Grace tried to remain calm as she responded, “It’s a hymn from the Ausbund, Esther. Other than that, I don’t reckon I know the purpose of the message.” It wasn’t a lie. She didn’t know its purpose. “Now, let’s get back into the greeting line. You know how some of those older women get offended, Esther, if everyone doesn’t greet them properly.”
But as she hurried back to her place in the line, she kept a tight hold on the note. True, she didn’t know the purpose of the message. But she knew its meaning very well. And that was something she wasn’t willing to share with Esther or anyone else for that matter.
1965
“Hurry up, Grace!”
Grace frowned at her mother calling her from the bottom of the staircase. Why is she in such a hurry? she wondered. Daed hadn’t even come in from the barn yet. Ignoring her mother, she glanced at the small, round mirror that hung on the wall over the basin stand in the corner of her room. It was too small for her to see herself properly, and she worried that her hair wasn’t pinned back just right.
“I don’t understand why I can’t go,” a small voice said from the doorway.
Grace looked over her shoulder and smiled at her sister. “You know that it’s only for baptized members of the church district,” she explained for the fifth time. As a child, Grace had never understood why communion and baptism were members-only services. Later she realized that it was a way of segregating the baptized from the unbaptized, a not-so-subtle reminder to the unbaptized that they were not truly part of the Amish community yet. But she didn’t want to say that to Anna Mae; her sister would figure it out on her own, realizing it just like every other person who took the baptism. “Remember that I didn’t attend last year either?”
Anna Mae sighed, pushing against the threshold of the door with her bare toes. She leaned her head against the door frame and stared up at Grace. “I’d still like to see you get baptized.”
“I’d like that too.” Grace turned toward her sister. She never liked seeing anyone unhappy, and in Anna Mae’s case, the sight of her sad eyes tore at Grace’s heart.
“But the good news is that I’ll get to be at your baptism!” She tried to sound cheerful. “Besides, won’t it be nice to be alone in the house? How often does that happen?”
Grace couldn’t remember ever being alone at the house. With seven siblings, someone always seemed to be in the kitchen or outside in the barn. She wondered what it would be like to actually be alone for a few hours, to do whatever she wanted for just a little bit. Suddenly, Grace almost wished she could trade places with Anna Mae. After all, Benny wasn’t home. The previous evening, he had gone out with his friends and never returned, his absence probably the source of Maem’s irritation.
“I didn’t think of that!” The idea of being home alone seemed to perk up Anna Mae. She pursed her lips as she contemplated Grace’s comment. “Reckon I’ll go play with the kittens for a spell. Maybe read that book Teacher let me borrow.”
“Now don’t get caught,” Grace warned. Sundays were for resting, visiting with family and friends, and most importantly honoring God. Reading a book from school was isolating and, like crocheting and quilting, would not fit into any of those categories.
“Grace! Daed is ready now!” Maem called out one more time.
With a deep sigh, Grace brushed passed Anna Mae. “Coming, Maem,” she called.
Grace hurried down the stairs, her footsteps on the wooden floor announcing her arrival. She paused on the bottom step and waited for her mother to turn around and say something, mayhaps to compliment her appearance.
Maem didn’t even look at her.
Instead, she was packing items into a box: multiple jars of chow-chow, beets, and applesauce as well as four loaves of fresh bread. Without flinching, her mother lifted the box and set it on her hip. She wore a scowl on her face, and her round-rimmed glasses couldn’t hide the disappointment in her eyes.
If only Benny would have come home last night, Grace thought. He was ruining everything of late. And his behavior seemed to exacerbate her parents’ negative feelings toward Menno. She knew it wasn’t fair, especially because Benny was making bad choices without any influence from Menno. Yet she also knew that it would be disrespectful to bring up the subject to either Maem or Daed.
“Let’s go, then,” Maem said as she hurried toward the door.
Obediently, Grace followed.
The buggy ride to the Kings’ farm took ten minutes. The overcast sky hinted at rain and made everything feel dark and dreary. It mirrored her parents’ mood. Benny, the wild child of their family. His approach to rumschpringe had shocked even Grace, especially because he had teased her so much when she turned sixteen.
At first, he attended youth gatherings along with the other young adults. Often he would drive Grace to the gathering, knowing as others did that Menno would bring her home. Of late, however, Grace noticed that Benny slipped out of the gatherings and disappeared. Soon the gossip began to reach her ears that Benny was hanging out with young Eli Troyer and two Mennonite boys who had a reputation for doing bad things: smoking cigarettes, hanging out with Engsliche girls, and racing their horses.
The shift in his behavior didn’t make anyone happy in the Masts’ house. Still, they knew that rumschpringe was the time to explore the world and make decisions about the future. Grace knew her parents worried about Benny and prayed that he’d soon calm down and be more responsible.
This, however, was the first time he hadn’t come home at all. And the combination of anger and fear created a tense atmosphere in the buggy. Grace was thankful when she saw the mailbox at the end of the Kings’ property.
&
nbsp; As her father guided the horse and buggy down the driveway, she saw that the turnaround at the Kings’ farm was full of black buggies, probably twenty or so. Daed parked at the end of the line and went about unharnessing the horse. Normally, young boys were assigned this task, but today there were none in attendance since the younger, unbaptized boys and men were not permitted to attend. Maem got out of the buggy and reached for her box of food, leaving Grace to push the front seat forward herself so she could crawl out of the buggy’s door. Her mother was already yards ahead, walking quickly down the driveway and, as she approached the house, nodding at the men who lingered near the porch.
Grace had a hard time keeping up with her.
After she entered the Kings’ mudroom and unpinned her black shawl, Grace folded it neatly and placed it on top of the others with the black bonnet she had worn over her head covering. She ran her hands down the front of her dress and apron before lifting her fingers to touch her hair, smoothing down any stray strands that the bonnet might have disturbed. Only then did she enter the kitchen and join the other women.
Everything about the gathering appeared the same as it was at every other worship service. There were no extra smiles or words of encouragement. In fact, as Grace greeted the other women, no one seemed to recognize that the day was special, a big milestone in her life. She shook hands with the women, not being given the greeting kiss because, as of this moment, she was not a baptized member. At the end of the line, she assumed her position next to her maem.
By the time the bishop and preachers entered the room, Grace felt nervous and wished more than anything that she could speak to Menno. She hadn’t expected the baptism service to be so . . . ordinary. In fact, if anything, the people seemed even more somber than usual.
The bishop and the preachers shook hands with each of the women with a light and loose handshake, Grace noticed, before walking through the room to assume their places in the center. The downstairs had been completely cleared of furniture, hinged walls had been opened, and benches were arranged so that the men could sit on one side while the women sat on the other.