by Sarah Price
For a few long seconds, the bishop paced before them, his hands clutched behind his back. With his long white beard and balding head, he looked stern and extremely serious. Grace knew him to be very conservative and unwilling to bend rules or authorize much change in the g’may. She was glad that he didn’t see Menno’s reaction just moments before.
“I needn’t tell you the serious nature of the commitment you are both making,” the bishop finally declared. “In a few minutes, you will be joined together as man and wife for the rest of your earthly lives. There is no greater love on earth than that of man and wife. Menno, you will provide for Grace and your kinner.” He paused and Grace thought Menno nodded his head. “Grace, you will care for Menno, raise your kinner, and support his decisions.” Another pause. She wasn’t certain whether she should say something or nod, so she simply nodded.
For the next fifteen minutes, the bishop recited scriptures about the significance of marriage in the eyes of God. There was a fervor about his mini-sermon as he instructed them in their marital duties. Grace found herself listening more to his tone than his actual words. He almost sounded as if he were trying to scare them, and the butterflies returned to her stomach.
Yet Menno remained calm as he paid complete attention to the bishop. Color rose to Grace’s cheeks, and she tried to focus on what the bishop was saying.
When he finished, they both affirmed their commitment to each other, and the bishop, satisfied, indicated that it was time to rejoin the congregation downstairs for the actual wedding ceremony. The staircase of her parents’ house had never seemed so long and narrow to Grace. She reached for the railing and stumbled, immediately feeling Menno’s hand on her elbow. She wanted to turn to him, to thank him, but she knew better. She needed to walk straight ahead and keep her eyes on the bishop. There would be time later to tell him how much she had appreciated his gesture.
They followed the bishop and stood before the congregation, neither one looking at each other, for they faced the bishop. The room was quiet, at least two hundred people watching their backs. Grace stood to the left of Menno, a symbolic expression of the place she would sit beside him at the kitchen table and in the buggy.
After clearing his throat, the bishop leveled his gaze at Menno. Once again, Grace was stricken by how stern the bishop appeared. His eyes narrowed as he began to enunciate the wedding vows.
“Can you confess, brother, that you wish to take this, our fellow sister, as your wedded wife, and not to part from her until death separates you, and that you believe this union is from the Lord? That through your faith and prayers you have arrived here?”
Menno responded with a simple “Ja.”
The bishop turned his attention to Grace. “Can you confess, sister, that you wish to take this, our fellow brother, as your wedded husband, and not to part from him until death separates you? That you believe this union is from the Lord? And that through your faith and prayers you have arrived here?”
She bit her lip and nodded her head. The word seemed stuck in her throat until she finally forced out a soft “Ja” in response to the bishop’s question. Unlike during her baptism, she felt uncomfortable with everyone staring at her.
“Since you, Menno Beiler, confessed your wish to take our fellow sister to be your wedded wife, do you promise to be faithful to her and to care for her, even though she may suffer affliction, trouble, sickness, weakness, despair, as is so common among us poor humans, in a manner that befits a Christian and God-fearing husband?”
Once again, Menno clearly enunciated his answer: “Ja.”
The bishop returned his gaze to Grace. “And you, Grace Mast, you confessed that you wish to take our fellow brother to be your wedded husband. Do you promise to be faithful to him and to care for him, even though he may suffer affliction, trouble, sickness, weakness, despair, as is so common among us poor humans, in a manner that befits a Christian and God-fearing wife?”
“Ja,” she managed to say.
The bishop stepped back and gestured toward Menno. “Extend your right hand to each other.” When they did so, he covered their hands with his and said, “The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob be with you both and help your family come together and shed His blessing richly upon all of you. Now go forth as a married couple. Fear God and keep His commandments.”
And with that Grace and Menno were married.
At the ending of the ceremony the bishop asked everyone to kneel for a final prayer. Grace knelt beside Menno and shut her eyes, praying that God would be with them in their life together, especially during the hard times that they would undoubtedly experience. She wanted to be a good wife and mother, to make Menno a happy husband, and to please God in the process with her devotion to Him.
When it was time to stand, she felt Menno help her by holding her elbow. Again she blushed, certain that some of the worshippers had witnessed that display of intimacy. Yet, she reasoned, now that they were married, no one could complain of any indiscretion.
As she stood there, smoothing down the front of her dress, she sensed his eyes upon her. With everyone moving around, setting up the tables for the feast, Grace felt safe to look at him. Those green eyes sparkled and he smiled at her, everything about his presence absorbing her into him. For a moment, she forgot that other people were around. It was as if they simply evaporated.
He leaned forward and whispered, “I knew I was gonna marry you that first day I saw you at the horse auction.”
Her mouth opened in surprise at his words.
And then, just briefly, he brushed his hand against hers.
She felt her heart flutter and had to catch her breath. Without a doubt in her mind, God had led her to this man. She loved him and knew that he loved her.
For the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening, guests continued to arrive at the Masts’ home. To accommodate the people who arrived later, having traveled to multiple weddings in a single day, women continued to work in the kitchen, ensuring that plates of food were refreshed often.
During most of this time, Menno and Grace sat at the corner table, the place of honor for the groom and bride. The other single women sat next to Grace while the single men sat next to Menno. People approached the newly married couple in pairs, offering their congratulations and blessings for a happy marriage.
There were brief breaks when Menno would lean over to say something to Grace, but there was never enough time to truly engage in any conversation. But underneath the table, he held her hand, his thumb gently caressing her skin. When people approached, he might squeeze her hand lightly as if giving her an extra boost of support. In all, Grace guessed that over four hundred people came to the wedding fellowship, although not all at one time.
When the sun started to sink just over the tree line, some of the young men and women disappeared outside. Grace realized that she was no longer one of them, and even though she wouldn’t have wanted to go, she never would be able to again. But she knew that they would be outside, talking under the cover of darkness. New relationships might be formed as a result of her wedding, since families came from different church districts, which meant some youths met for the first time. It wasn’t unheard of for a couple that met at a wedding one year to be married the following one.
By the time the remaining guests began to leave, it was already dark. Lanterns were hung on the sides of the buggies so that cars could see them on the roads. Menno went outside with the other men, offering to help harness horses to buggies for some of the elderly guests. Grace offered to help in the kitchen, but her mother shooed her away.
“Make certain you had enough to eat,” she told Grace. “I have some extra plates set aside for latecomers who were hungry.”
Grace laughed. “We’ve been eating all day. Why would I be hungry?”
For a moment, her mother stopped working and frowned. Then, as she realized the merit in Grace’s statement, she laughed too. Lifting a hand to her forehead, her mother shut her eyes
and shook her head. “Oh, Grace, what a long few days it has been!” She dropped her hand and looked at her daughter as if seeing her for the first time. Something softened in her expression. “It was a right gut day, ain’t so?”
Grace nodded, too moved to express her feelings with words.
“I have something for you,” her mother went on. She glanced over her shoulder at the other women who were working. “Reckon they can do without me for a moment, ja? Come with me, Grace.”
After lighting a small lantern, her mother led Grace upstairs and into the back bedroom, the only bedroom that wasn’t used. While it was pristine, being cleaned weekly even though no one slept there, it felt empty without any clothes hanging from the hooks on the wall. Against the wall, there was one small dresser. Her mother set the lantern on top of it and opened one of the drawers. She searched through several items before she found what she sought: a book.
“There it is!” She smiled as she turned around and handed it to Grace.
It was small with a light blue cover. When she opened the book, the pages were blank. Puzzled, Grace looked at her mother. “What is it, Maem?”
“A five-year journal,” she said. “When I married your Daed, your grossmammi gave me one just like this. A different color, I recall. But she told me that it was a wonderful gift to write down one or two little thoughts each day. And I have. Every night, before I go to bed, I write in my own diary. Little things: about worship service, if someone visited, what the weather was, if one of my kinner took ill. On days when I feel a little overwhelmed—and you will too, Grace, believe you me—it’s soothing to look back at some of the old passages. In times of hardship, reflect on the past and remember all of the good that God has given us.” She gave a little laugh. “Why, I can go back to read about the day you were born!”
Grace held the gift in her hands, amazed at the revelation her mother just shared with her. To learn that her mother kept a journal for all those years! She had never known. Truly, her mother had just given her a very valuable gift. Grace could almost envision herself writing entries in her journal about her life with Menno. “Oh, Maem,” she breathed. “This is truly special. Danke ever so much!”
She couldn’t wait to show it to Menno. On her way down the hall, she paused and put the journal in her bedroom on the nightstand. She stood for a moment, staring at the room. Years ago, she had shared a room with Anna Mae. That had been when her older sisters and Emanuel still lived at home. When they married and moved into homes of their own, Grace moved into an empty bedroom.
Now she would share the bedroom with Menno, but only on the weekends, until the spring when she would move to the Beilers’ farm. She never understood the reasoning behind that tradition, but she never thought even once of asking why.
“Grace!”
There was an urgency in the voice that called out to her.
“Grace! Get downstairs quick!”
Clearly, something was wrong. She hurried down the stairs and, at the last step, paused. Most of the guests were gone. However, a small group of women hovered over her mother, who sat slumped in a chair, her hands covering her face. Her shoulders trembled, racked with grief.
“What’s happened?” Grace asked, desperate to find out what had caused her mother to cry when, just moments ago, they had shared a special moment in the upstairs bedroom.
Outside the window, she saw something flashing: red and blue lights. There was a police car in the driveway. In the headlight beams, she saw a group of men huddled together. Immediately she recognized Menno’s form. He had his arm around another man: Daed.
“Please,” Grace pleaded as she looked from one person to the next. “Tell me.”
The women looked at each other as if urging someone to speak up. Her mother’s sobs became uncontrollable and Grace went to her, comforting her as best as she could. Rubbing her back, Grace tried to soothe her, but her mother remained inconsolable.
The door opened, and when Grace looked up, she saw Menno leading her father inside, the bishop and two preachers following close behind. Her father appeared in the same condition as her mother, his cheeks streaked with tears and needing Menno to support him.
Grace caught Menno’s eyes and, without a word, questioned him by raising her eyebrows.
He merely shook his head, his own cheeks drawn and pale.
The bishop stepped forward and placed his hand on her mother’s shoulder. “God will get you through this,” he said. “I would like us to gather in prayer.”
Grace watched as the other women quickly took chairs that had previously been folded up for storage and put them into a semicircle. The remaining people, twelve in all, moved toward the chairs. The bishop helped her mother to a chair, freeing Grace to hurry to Menno’s side.
“Menno? What’s happened?”
He nodded to one of the preachers to assist her father to a chair and took Grace by the hand. He led her outside into the cold November air so that they could talk in private. She rubbed her arms and waited for whatever news he had to share with her. And when he told her, she forgot about being cold. Her gasp of disbelief created a burst of steam that clouded her vision. Or was that the tears that sprang to her eyes?
“Benny?” she cried.
Menno stood before her, silent in order to permit her time to process what he had told her.
“He’s dead? That cannot be! Why, he was just here!”
Menno reached out and pulled her into his arms.
“This doesn’t make sense.” She clung to Menno’s shirt and cried into his shoulder.
“Shh, Grace,” Menno whispered, rubbing her back in the same manner Grace had tried to comfort her mother just moments before.
“How?” Grace managed to ask.
Menno didn’t respond right away. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. When he finally answered, his voice was soft and he spoke slowly. “He must have left with the other young men. They went racing, Grace.”
“Racing?” She pulled back and looked at him, stunned at that one word.
“Apparently so.” He paused, and she knew that he was trying to find the right words to provide her with more details. “They were riding bareback, Grace, through a field. His horse . . . Jacob Miller was there, and he said Benny’s horse stumbled. Mayhaps there was a hole or a dip in the field. When Benny fell . . . ”
He didn’t need to complete the sentence.
Grace let out a sob, permitting Menno to hold her once again. The depth of her sorrow was so great that she barely thought about the fact that this was the first time he had held her in his arms. The need for comfort and understanding outweighed her discomfort with the unfamiliarity of his embrace.
November 19, 2015
Just as Grace expected, the wedding was filled with guests, many of whom traveled from afar. There were even guests from Ohio and Indiana. The Esh family was large and, as a result, had spread out to other states with more affordable farmland. Grace couldn’t help but think back to her own wedding and the tragic events that had unfolded that evening. Her mind wandered away from the sermons and songs as she remembered the sad news that had infringed on her wedding night.
For the three days following her wedding, Grace had done her best to comfort her parents and younger sister while Menno worked beside Emanuel in the dairy before returning to his family farm to help with chores there. He’d return in the evening to again help with the cows.
Over six hundred people visited during the first two days, coming to the house to view the body and pay their respects to the family. Several women of the g’may organized the food so that Grace could stand near her parents. The condolences began to sound repetitious to her. After all, how many different ways can a person say, “Benny walks with God now,” and “He’s in a better place”?
The one thing Grace did not hear was anyone questioning the reasons behind the accident. Faith in God meant never asking that question, and she chastised herself for even thinking it. Long after his casket was lowered
into the grave, her white handkerchief with the purple iris tucked beside him, she often reflected on how the happiness surrounding her wedding day had been destroyed with one bad decision that had, apparently, been part of God’s plan. That’s what she had been taught her entire life.
But now, as she sat on the hard bench watching Melvin and Rose exchange their vows, she wondered what lay ahead in their future. What did God have planned for the newly married couple? Would the painful events overshadow the joyful moments? And what, Grace wondered, was the point of it all? Just like many other Amish couples, they would have babies, work hard, worship even harder, grow old, and then meet their Maker.
“What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun?” she thought, the scripture taking on a new meaning for her as she sat there, wondering not just about Melvin and Rose’s future, but also about her own. “One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever. The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he arose.”
Her thoughts were interrupted when the bishop indicated that it was time for the final prayer. She knelt and placed her hands over her face, resting her forehead on the bench seat.
Lord, she prayed, if it is Your will, bless Melvin and Rose with a long and happy life. Save them from the hardships and heartaches so many others experience. And I pray for the strength to find myself in this new life without Menno while remaining your ever-faithful servant.
With the service over, a new energy permeated the room as it was transformed from a room of worship into a room for fellowship, celebration, and feasting. Grace wandered to the side, hoping to stay out of the way as the others worked. She noticed Esther, Mary, and Lizzie standing on the other side of the room, near the kitchen, so she started to walk there.
Someone tugged on her sleeve.