by Sarah Price
Lizzie tapped him on the shoulder and frowned. “Now, come on, Eli, you know that he passed.”
Another long-drawn-out moment before the realization struck him. “I reckon I do, now that you mention it. Why, he was young!”
Grace almost smiled at Eli’s comment. Menno had been anything but young. A lifetime of working on the farm and in the elements had aged him far beyond his years. Yet to Eli King, who was probably close to ninety, she imagined that Menno did seem a lot younger. Besides, Eli had been at the retirement home for a while now. For several years, he had bounced around from one child’s home to the next until his care required round-the-clock attention. His children simply could no longer care for him, and after much discussion with the church leaders, they moved him here.
Eli pointed at her. “You’re still a young one too,” he said thoughtfully. “Mayhaps time to find yourself a new husband.” He perked up, lifting his hand to his hair to smooth it back, as if he might be a candidate. Any thought of Grace being offended by such a comment disappeared when Lizzie scoffed and tapped him again on the arm, causing Eli to laugh.
For the next hour, the three women sat in the room, visiting with Eli while they crocheted. In fact, Grace found herself relaxing as she listened to Lizzie prattle on about anything that came to her mind. Eli teased her and made jokes, sometimes repeating himself. But the way his aged blue eyes took on a new life made Grace change her mind about the retirement home. While it was true that the residents were facing imminent death, whether through sickness or old age, and they either didn’t have family or couldn’t be taken care of by them, they could still experience joy. Eli King proved that. And in feeling such joy, he gave it back to the three women seated before him.
It dawned on her that she was no better off living independently than the residents of the retirement home. In fact, despite her own mobility around her house, she was in a worse situation. She didn’t have as many visitors or the option to go play checkers or Scrabble. Day in and day out, she sat alone in her house, dependent on the infrequent visitors from members of the g’may and the worship service held every two weeks. Any outings were at the mercy of other people who still had a horse and buggy. Was she truly any better off there than if she did move to such a facility?
2012
Grace set the table for two. Again. With the colder weather, visitors were less frequent, and their evenings were often spent in quiet solitude after a light supper. Tonight was no different. Outside, the snow was starting to fall. She could see the large snowflakes falling against the window in the glow from the kerosene lantern that hung above the kitchen sink.
The door opened and Menno hurried inside, a gust of wind accompanying him. He slapped his arms against his chest and shivered before removing his coat and hat.
“Sure is cold out there,” he said as he hung both items on hooks from the wall. “Wouldn’t want to be out there in a buggy, that’s for sure and certain. Roads gonna be slick.” He coughed into his fist.
“Getting a cold, Menno?”
“Nee,” he responded, moving to the table to pull out his chair and sit down. “Just a tickle in my throat.”
She wanted to tell him that he’d been coughing a lot of late. And wheezing too. But she didn’t want to ruin the good mood or create unnecessary worry. Instead, she dished boiled potatoes into a bowl and placed thin slices of ham onto a plate. She carried the two dishes over to the table and sat down next to Menno.
“Do you think they’ll have the school program tomorrow night, then?” she asked, her eyes hopeful as she searched his face for an answer.
“Aw, I don’t see why not, Grace.” He smiled at her. “No reason the roads won’t be clear by afternoon. If not, they’ll just reschedule.” He reached out and touched her hand, a gesture meant to comfort her. Then he bowed his head to pray.
As she had done for almost every breakfast, dinner, and supper for forty-seven years, Grace did the same, following his lead. She shut her eyes and prayed, thanking the Lord for the food that was set upon the small table in the small house that she had moved into with Menno just two years ago.
She had long ago given up any hope of a true reconciliation between Menno and Ivan. After that night, that one horrible night when Susan showed up at Ivan’s house after the school program, father and son were never at ease with each other again. Within days, Menno had convinced Grace that it was time for them to retire from farm life. After all, he explained, he was sixty-seven years old and ready to relinquish the work that began with early morning chores and lingered until the late afternoon hours.
But Grace knew the truth: he was running away from Susan. Without a word, Grace packed up the few things they needed: clothing, cookware, and some canned goods to help get them through the rest of the winter. She contemplated leaving Barbara’s china plates at the house, knowing it would be better to leave them for Ivan and Jane. Menno, however, insisted she pack them. While Grace knew that Barbara would want them passed down to the grandchildren, she wasn’t about to argue with her husband. That was something they could sort out later.
A rented truck arrived to move their bed, dresser, sofa, recliner, rocker, grandfather clock, side tables, and kitchen table and chairs. And just like that, they left what had been their home since the beginning of their marriage.
Menno found a small ranch house on the outskirts of a community in Akron, just two towns away from Ivan, and located in a stricter, more conservative district. Among other things, the move signaled that Menno rejected the leadership of their previous bishop, who had softened the rules about shunning at Ivan’s request.
The move wasn’t Grace’s wish or idea, but she felt that Menno’s happiness was worth her sorrow. After all, these were the autumn years of their lives. She thought better of arguing with him over the location of the house or the fact that there was little backyard to garden and no paddock for the horse to graze. Instead, she merely smiled when he asked if she liked it and commented, “It’ll suit just fine.”
The truth was that as long as she was with Menno, it didn’t matter where they lived. Her love for him was so great that she forced herself to find happiness in the Englische house, even though she could no longer be in daily contact with her beloved grandchildren.
During the warmer months, they often sat outside on the small porch, Menno critiquing her meadow tea. He could still recite the same recipe that he had told her years ago at the youth gathering when they were just beginning their courtship. It became a game for them: she’d make the tea and he would judge it. On most occasions, he scored it a nine out of ten, claiming that a ten was perfect and only God could make better tea.
But now that it was cold, they spent most of their time indoors. While they were close friends with their neighbors, James and Hannah Esh, the weather was too cold for social visiting in the evenings. With icy roads and slippery sidewalks, it just wasn’t safe to walk the short distance between their houses in the early dark of evening.
“I hear tell,” Menno began to say as he scooped potatoes onto his plate, “that the g’may is splitting.”
Grace gasped. While it was a good sign that the community was growing, a split in the church district meant they’d have a new bishop and preachers. “Oh, Menno! Say it ain’t so!”
He nodded his head. “Ja, I’m afraid so, Grace.” Using his fork, he mashed his potatoes before reaching for the plate of butter. He cut off a large piece and dropped it onto the potatoes so that it could melt. “The farming families just east of here are too large, and the Amish folk that are moving over here are increasing. Just not economical to keep living on the farms when the young ones need the land.”
That was always his excuse when asked why they had moved: it was time to turn over the land to the next generation. But everyone knew the truth. After all, Ivan’s oldest son wasn’t even married yet and didn’t need the grossdawdihaus, and too many people had seen Susan around town. Still, the people of the g’may respected Menno’s discretion
about the matter, and no one challenged his decision or the reason behind it.
“The church leaders are meeting today to discuss the matter. If they decide it’s time, they’ll be drawing the new district lines before the weekend,” Menno continued. “Then we’ll be choosing new preachers after worship this weekend.”
“And what of the bishop? Who will the bishop be for the new district?”
“Ach, Grace,” he said, a disappointed look on his face. “That’s up to God, not us, to decide. You know that.”
He was right. The church leaders were nominated by the members in a secret ballot. Then those men with enough nominations were called to the front of the room and asked to select a Bible from the table. In one of those Bibles was a slip of paper; the man who chose that Bible would become a preacher, chosen by lot—a process guided by the hand of God. When a new bishop was needed, the preachers would be called to the front of the room, once again choosing a Bible.
The bishop set the tone for the community. He had the authority to implement transformation and change or maintain strict control over the people. Typically, younger bishops were more likely to argue for adaptation and integration with the Englische world, while the older ones opted for more conservative measures.
With so many elderly people living in their section of Akron, Grace suspected that they’d have a pool of conservative men in the lot. Conservative men meant fewer changes, something that Menno would like. But Grace often wondered how he would react if a new bishop offered reform, little things like air conditioning in the hot summer months or crocheting on Sundays. Clearly he had rejected the reform offered by their previous bishop, a softening of the rules for shunning.
Oh, how she missed her old church district. Ever since they had moved into this new neighborhood, with its sprinkling of Englische and Amish homes, Sunday had become the most dreaded day of the week. Of course, she loved the worship service and fellowship. But since they didn’t know many people in the church district, their afternoons and evenings were spent sitting quietly at home instead of visiting. Thankfully, they already knew the Yoders, David and Lizzie, as well as James and Hannah Esh, since Grace had grown up in the same church district as David and Hannah. But they had family nearby, and especially on the off-Sundays when there was no worship, they would visit with their children or siblings.
On those days, Grace and Menno sat in the house. Menno would read from the Bible, sometimes discussing specific passages with her, but for the most part, it was a long and quiet day.
If only he would reach out to Ivan, she often thought. She missed seeing the children and being a part of their lives. She loved baking but had no one to bake for anymore. To make a pie at home meant that it would be enjoyed only by Menno, and usually he didn’t care for the same dessert multiple days in a row. She wound up throwing most of it out.
Only once had she broached the subject with Menno. He remained silent for almost two hours before responding. It was the longest silence between them. Initially, she took his lack of response as anger. That was a typical response among the Amish. When offended or upset, they tended to shut down and remain quiet, knowing that foolish words came from angry tongues. But when he finally did speak, she realized that he had been reflecting on her request, perhaps even praying for guidance from the Lord in helping him find a proper response.
“I understand your feelings, Grace. I miss the little ones too.” He gave her a look that mirrored his sentiment. “But unless she repents of her sins and is accepted into the church again, we have to honor the ban. And Ivan has disrespected his parents. That is a sin. How can I forgive him when he hasn’t repented and accepted responsibility for what he has done?”
“He’s our son,” she pleaded. “Of our four children, we have none.”
Menno shook his head. “God first, Grace. Always God first.” Then he reached out and took her hand in his. It had been a long time since he had made such a gesture. When he lifted it, his fingers entwining with hers, he gave a small smile. “And we have each other. Hasn’t that always been enough?”
And that was the end of the discussion.
They never talked about the future, about the big “what if ” that loomed ahead. It was a thought that Grace always tucked into the back corners of her mind. When she looked at Menno, she still saw him as that young, confident twenty-two-year-old at the youth gathering, asking her if she had turned eighteen yet. In her eyes, he hadn’t aged. She did, however, wonder what he saw when he looked at her.
Years of pregnancy had thickened her waist. Her hair had turned almost completely white. She wore glasses now, for she could barely see anything after years of working by the dim light of a kerosene lamp in the winter evenings. Without doubt, she knew that age had taken its toll on her and she was certainly no longer “pretty” as her sister Anna Mae had once called her, oh, so many years ago.
And while she knew she shouldn’t fret about such vain ideas, she couldn’t help but look in the mirror when Menno wasn’t around and see the toll that time had taken on her. Even now as she sat with him at the table, listening to him talk about the possibility of new church district lines being drawn and what that would mean for the split g’may, she wondered how he felt about her after forty-seven years of marriage.
The following day, Menno took the horse and buggy to visit with David Yoder and James Esh. He was gone for almost three hours when Grace started to worry. What on earth could they be talking about for so long? She paced the floor, occasionally looking out the window as she waited for his return. The later it became, the more she fretted. What if something had happened to him?
When he finally returned, her relief was so great that she wanted to hold him and tell him how worried she had been. But he breezed past her, leaving his hat on the table as he began to tell her what he had heard.
“The new district lines have been drawn, Grace, and we will be in the new district,” he said, sounding rather excited. “What a wise thing the bishop has done!”
She wasn’t so certain. Change was not always accepted by the people. Dividing a church district often created a sense of uncertainty among them. Men would be nominated by the members of the church to fill the vacant roles, but the lot would choose who was selected. This often left the future of a g’may in a state of transformation and conflict. One bishop might permit change while another might deny it, creating neighbors who followed differing Ordnungs. But when she recognized the glow in Menno’s eyes, she did not feel comfortable expressing her true feelings. Instead, she merely responded with a meek “Oh ja?”
“They’ll have the lot on Sunday for two new preachers.”
Grace gasped and clicked her tongue. “Two? Have you ever heard such a thing?”
Menno shrugged and shook his head. “Both districts need at least two preachers and a bishop. Bishop Riehl has decided to remain with our district while we choose two new preachers, and the other district will keep its preachers and choose a new bishop by lot.”
Grace sighed. Each district needed preachers, experienced and well versed in the Ordnung as well as Scripture, before a bishop could be chosen, always by lot. Still, she was more than content that Bishop Riehl would remain with them in their newly formed district. He was a conservative bishop, and Grace liked his sermons very much.
On Sunday after the worship service, the bishop called a members-only meeting, the children and unbaptized adults being asked to leave the room. Since it was cold outside, they went upstairs and stayed on the second floor during the meeting. The bishop told the worshippers what most of them already knew: the church district had grown too large and needed to split. She barely listened, for Menno already had told her about the new district line and which families would remain with the existing g’may and which families would be switched to the new one.
What she was most curious about was the nomination of the new preachers. As she looked around the room, she wondered who would be nominated. She had never experienced the formation of a new
church district, so she was most curious about how the choosing would happen.
“As everyone knows, the new district will need two preachers,” the bishop said. “This is a time that requires prayer, not just before and not just today, but afterward for the two men who are called by God to serve our church.” He stared at the men, all seated to his right. “When you accepted the Lord and committed your life to this church, you agreed to answer if God chooses you. Serving God as a preacher is another lifelong commitment. I ask the rest of the members to pray now as the eligible men step forward and participate in the lot selection.”
Grace sat up straighter at this announcement.
On the other side of the room, the men looked at each other before, slowly, a few began to stand up. Fifteen men walked to the front of the room. Among them stood Menno. That was almost all of the men in the one district, the only three exceptions being young baptized men who weren’t married yet and the two young men who, while married, had no children.
One by one, the men took a step forward and selected a Bible from the table. Grace’s eyes remained on Menno, her heart racing as she silently prayed. Becoming a preacher of a church district brought too much responsibility, she thought. Please, Lord, if it is Your will, do not select my Menno.
But when he opened the Bible, a white slip of paper fluttered to the ground. Before her eyes, she saw the color drain from his cheeks as he realized what had happened. Now, for the rest of his life, he would be known as Preacher Beiler. Grace felt tears well up in her eyes. No, no, no, she thought, knowing all the time that her emotions were selfish. God had selected Menno; she should be humbled and supportive. Instead, she felt angry and scared, both emotions at the same time causing her to feel physically ill.
She barely paid attention when the second piece of paper fluttered from the Bible held in the hands of David Yoder.
The selection completed, the men returned to their places on the benches and chairs. When she looked up and sought out Menno from the other side of the room, she saw tears in his eyes. As a preacher, he would visit the sick and infirm, he would minister to the spiritually weak, and he would be a role model for the rest of the community. If there ever was a chance of Grace seeing her grandchildren before, she knew that, unless Ivan repented and asked forgiveness from Menno, there was no chance of it happening now.