God’s will above all else …
“Why’d Mamma and her cousins and Mister Philip hafta go off without us?” Annie asked Lavina as they stood in the vestibule of the Beachy Church.
“Well, now, girlie, I think your mamma already explained that,” she told the little girl with bright eyes.
“But how’s goin’ to the Crossroad gonna help Mamma see again?”
“Jah, I wanna know, too,” asked young Ada, Annie’s second cousin.
She wondered what more she oughta tell the children. Seemed Rachel had done a right gut job of sayin’ what should be said. She sighed, wonderin’ what she’d got herself into, offerin’ to stay with the five little ones. “Sometimes a body’s just gotta go back and see what’s in the past … for their own selves,” she said simply.
“But if Mamma can’t see,” Annie said, “how’s she gonna do that?”
“Jah, Rachel’s blind,” James added. “Been that way for over two years now.” And Mary and Elijah were shaking their wee heads in unison.
“I’d hafta say if God wanted Rachel to go in a buggy to the Crossroad, well, then, who are we to question that?”
That quieted them down, and Lavina went in search of a Sunday school lesson to read to her young charges. She’d have to sit them on the floor and pretend to be their teacher, something she’d always admired ’bout her old friend Adele Herr. That’s just what she’d do till Rachel and the others returned, and Rachel’s sight was back to normal. Leastways, she’d be hopin’ and prayin’ for the dear girl… .
The morning had been breezy and cold when Philip first had awakened, the wind coming out of the north with a few flurries. But now a stillness fell over the region, gray and gentle, as if they in the buggy were nestled in the eye of a storm, protected from future fury; far enough removed almost to be convinced that the storm did not exist at all.
His thoughts turned to Adele and her discerning reply to one of his recent letters, written before leaving New York. He had unburdened his soul, sharing his personal and professional concerns for the future.
I’m delighted to know that you are relying on God’s help with your “fork in the road,” she had said in her letter.
He didn’t exactly know why her reply had continued to make such an impact on him. Was it because he had come to believe, as did Adele, that she had made an irrevocable life error? That she had missed God’s will for her life forty long years ago? He cringed anew each time he recalled Adele’s account of her refusal. Gabe’s earnest love had gone unheeded; she’d broken the young Amishman’s heart, rejecting his marriage proposal.
The four of them rode in unbroken stillness. He presumed Levi and Esther had immersed themselves in intercessory prayer on behalf of Rachel’s healing. He, in turn, asked the Lord for divine help during and after the possibly traumatic journey they were embarking on, searching his own heart as he did.
As he opened his eyes, the wind began to blow again, pushing back the clouds. All at once the landscape and the road ahead were bathed in radiant light. Liquid gold spilled across the snow-packed road ahead, flowing across field and stream, casting a bold sheen over every farmhouse and barn as far as the eye could see. But most interesting was the effect the sudden burst of sunlight had on Rachel.
“The sun’s just come out, ain’t?” she whispered, leaning close to him.
Turning, he was amazed at what he saw. Her lovely face was wet with tears. “Yes, Rachel, the sun is shining,” he said, trying to compose himself.
The noonday sun was ablaze in the sky, and he took for granted that he should have felt subconscious warmth. But beneath the layers of his fur-lined topcoat, Philip shivered.
Twenty
Rachel kept her eyes closed, seized by the radiance around her, thinking that it might vanish. Heart, you must not fear! she commanded her timid spirit, recalling the verses in the Old Testament. For the Lord your God is he that goeth with you… .
Taking several slow, deep breaths, she asked the Lord to give her an abundance of courage for what she might remember, and that she would not be afraid to see again. Please, dear Lord Jesus, help me get through to the other side, she prayed silently. To the other side of the Crossroad.
Unexpectedly, a thought came to her—the name the locals had given the dangerous intersection had another meaning. ’Least for her, it did. The Crossroad could also mean the road to the cross. Why she’d never thought of it, she didn’t honestly know. The path to the cross was ever so excruciating for the dear Savior. A horror no one should ever have to endure, yet He chose to walk the way of it. Surely then, He would understand and see her through this day. Jesus himself would carry her to the brink of her memories, through the horrific visions she’d repressed and rejected. She pictured in her mind the Lord gathering her up, blind and tormented, into His own strong arms.
Brushing tears away, she fixed her heart on the painful journey the Lord had called her to. And she allowed herself to think back to the very day of the accident.
Two long years ago …
The day had been exceptionally hot for mid-June. But there was a breeze, which helped circulate precious little air through the enclosed market wagon. Jacob hurried the horse toward North Ronks Road. She was a bit on edge ’bout taking the shortcut to market, but Jacob reassured her that it was the best way “to make gut time.” They’d gotten a late start, and she blamed herself for sleeping past the alarm, causin’ this rushing ’round in the first place.
Leaning her head on Jacob’s strong shoulder, she closed her eyes, enjoying the sounds of birds, crickets, and the cadence of the horse’s hooves on the road. There was the humming sound of a windmill, too, and an occasional passing horse and carriage. In back, Aaron and Annie played happily.
In her hand, she clutched a letter, one she’d written the night before. It was to Esther, her close cousin, transplanted to Ohio from Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania.
“We’re comin’ up on the intersection,” Esther said from the front seat. “Thought you should know.”
“How much farther?” Rachel asked, her heart in her throat.
Levi answered. “A quarter mile or so.”
She tried to settle back, cautiously thinking through—step by step—the events leading up to the accident, aware of Philip’s presence. Yet she felt as if she might be floating through space and time, knowing full well she was conscious.
“Look at Dat’s handmade toy trains and helicopters!” young Aaron was saying as they rumbled toward the Crossroad.
Jacob joked with his son, and right then the wind plucked the letter out of her hand. Sent it flying through the window. She told Jacob she’d get it “right quick,” which she did. Jumped out while the traffic light was still red and chased the letter across the field.
When she retrieved it, she turned in horror to see the mare rearin’ up, carrying on like their driving horse had never, ever done before. Jacob was struggling, trying to control the spooked creature. Oh, it was the most frightening thing she’d ever witnessed, and she felt her very breath go out of her lungs. And then the horse charged forward into the stream of traffic.
Just now, reliving the dreadful events, she fought her way through it, clawing her way out of what seemed like a long black tunnel. She agonized anew over not being able to locate her little children, their bodies surely wracked by pain, in shock. Searching, tripping over debris in the road, she kept callin’ out their names, stumbling over Jacob’s handmade toys and the mutilated pieces of what had once been their market wagon.
A flash of light! Suddenly, Rachel remembered something submerged so deep in the recesses of her soul—ever so precious a memory—one she’d lost, repressed with all the others.
She was kneeling on the hot blacktop, on the road, cradling Jacob in her arms. He was breathing, and she was oh so glad for that. He began to stir, looking up, his eyes fluttering open as he struggled against full sunlight.
“Rachel … I see the Lord Jesus… . His arms are open wide … for
me.” Pausing, he breathed a ragged sigh, then coughed, wincing with the effort. “Heaven’s here, radiant and bright… . Ach, it’s so beautiful.”
His eyes closed slowly, and she could feel the life draining from him. “Oh, Jacob,” she whimpered, “I love you so. Please live. Stay with us. Please don’t give up.”
Yet, in the stillness, as her husband lay dying, Rachel felt utter peace. Like a divine balm of Gilead, drenching her, warming and soothing her very soul. She longed to linger in its indescribable glow, letting the amazing feeling flow over her. Jacob, her beloved, was going home to heaven right here in her arms.
The sweet reality filled her spirit, soul, and body. In that moment, she felt sure that nothing could ever move her again in such a profound way. She wanted to stay there forever, holding her husband just a handclasp from eternity. So close to that glorious hereafter, promised to all those who belong to the Lord. Heaven’s door was near, at least for that one instant, and the glimpse of it was precious beyond words.
Her peace was short-lived as a crush of sounds flew at her—footsteps, whispers—and hot, dense air flurried ’bout her as Jacob fell limp against her.
“Step back,” someone commanded, and she felt an opening in the wall of commotion.
“Rachel … it’s over,” Philip said, reaching for her hand. “You’ve passed the Crossroad … to the other side.” He could not go on, so filled with emotion was he. He continued to cradle her fragile hand in both of his, gently stroking, offering whatever comfort he could.
Esther turned around in the front seat, her hand reaching out for Rachel’s free one. “It’s all behind you now, dear Cousin. The Lord is with you.”
“Where are we?” Rachel murmured, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Just south of the Crossroad, on Ronks Road,” Esther explained. “Levi pulled off the road when you started to cry. We’ll stay put here till you’re ready to go again.”
“You just say the word,” Levi spoke up.
“I feel I hafta tell all of you what happened just now,” Rachel began.
And the memories poured forth from her as if pent up for a lifetime. But it was the account she gave of her husband’s heavenly homegoing that touched Philip most.
Rachel made several futile attempts to control herself, to make the tears stop. It didn’t help that in spite of her faith-filled prayers, the return of her memory, and the striving she had felt in her spirit, she was still blind. Oh, there were the murky and occasional bursts of light at the end of the darkness, but as for seeing clearly, well, she simply couldn’t. And she was ever so glad that neither Philip nor her cousins were asking her ’bout that.
Truth be told, she had come out on the other side in one piece, and yet there was only the gloom of reality. Jacob and Aaron were still in their graves, buried in the Amish cemetery on the hill. She was still a widow with only one of her children left living. No hope for a love like she’d had with dear Jacob Yoder.
No hope …
She began to sob in deepest despair, her body trembling with the truth she’d had to face. She covered her eyes with both hands, letting go of both Esther’s and Philip’s handclasp. Then she felt Philip draw her near as the horse and carriage continued down the road—away from the Crossroad. She gave way to his gentle touch, scarcely aware that her head had come to rest on his shoulder or that he whispered soothing words. In her grief, she also mourned the fact that Philip would be leaving soon, returning to his own world, where she did not belong.
“Your vision is more important than anything,” Philip had said last evening. “More important …”
The memory of those words drowned out his compassion now. The carriage clattered onto Lynwood Road, heading in the direction of the church. The long way back …
Lavina had read through all the Sunday school lessons and was makin’ an effort to sing “Jesus Loves Me” on key when Annie asked where her mamma was. “I’m gettin’ awful hungry,” she said.
“Me too,” young Ada added.
“My tummy’s gonna cave in,” Mary said, getting poked by her brother.
Lavina figured it shouldn’t be too much longer now. “Let’s count to one hundred in Dutch, and maybe they’ll be back.”
Elijah tried his best, but the four-year-old was havin’ a hard time, mixing up the numbers. It reminded her of how troublesome counting had been for her back when she was a schoolgirl. “You’ll hafta count along with your big brother,” she suggested, knowin’ how awful bad he felt.
He nodded and the other children were eager to help him. But it was Annie who seemed most distracted. She was clearly worried ’bout her mamma.
And now, as she thought on it, Lavina was, too.
Twenty-One
I can’t tell you how glad I am to have that ride over,” Rachel told Esther in the privacy of her bedroom. “It was ever so frightenin’, but I know now that I blocked out the most beautiful memory of all, right along with the horrifying ones.”
“Jacob’s homegoing?” asked Esther.
She nodded. “I just don’t know how I could’ve rejected such an experience.”
“Well, your heart was breakin’, that could be why. Go easy on yourself, dear one.”
“S’pose I oughta.”
“Maybe the Lord saved this special memory for just today … when you most needed to remember,” Esther said softly. “Ain’t it true that God gave you Jacob for a short time, only to take him out of this present life to be with Him? I’ve thought so often since the accident that surely there was a lesson in it … for all of us, maybe.”
“And I think I know now what that lesson might be.”
Esther was silent, and Rachel reached for her cousin’s hand as the women sat on the bed. “The lesson I believe the Lord would have me learn is not to take life’s blessings for granted. The morning we drove to market for the last time, Jacob even said that we always miss what we don’t have. I had to learn the hard way, I guess. Every single day’s a gift from God.”
“The Lord’s grace is abundant … new every morning,” Esther replied.
“And even though my sight hasn’t yet returned, I still have hope that it will … in God’s perfect time.”
Rachel truly wanted to believe it, fightin’ hard against the hopeless feelings inside.
They sat quietly in the stillness of the bedroom, where both Rachel’s large bed and Annie’s little one had been neatly made with homemade quilts and Rachel’s crocheted afghans.
“Wouldja like to talk about Philip?” Esther surprised her by saying. “A special young man, he is. Levi’s very impressed with him … thinks he must surely have a call of God on his life.”
Rachel thought on that. “But why should we talk ’bout him?”
“‘Cause God’s call is on your life, too, Rachel.”
“I … I just don’t know what you’re tryin’ to say, bringin’ Philip Bradley up this way.” Honestly, her mouth turned dry as cotton.
“Don’t be shy ’bout prayin’ for Philip, that’s all. Could be that God has a plan for your lives … together.”
She wondered if her feelings for Philip had begun to show. If that was why Esther had brought up the subject. She daresn’t ask. Not even Esther must discover this secret.
Philip was enthusiastic to spend time with Levi. The house seemed nearly uninhabited at the present time, even though he knew the Glick children and Annie were off playing in the sunroom. He knew, too, that Rachel and Esther had disappeared upstairs. A good thing, presumably, what with Rachel’s emotional state by trip’s end.
They’d had a sumptuous dinner of baked turkey and ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, along with a number of side vegetable dishes, “wonderful-gut leftovers from Christmas dinner,” Esther had said. It was amazing how she’d single-handedly whipped together such a meal while Rachel was resting.
The fact that Ben and Susanna were away from the house—having a meal with other Old Order church members—meant that Levi and Philip could talk mo
re freely. And with the food cleared away and the kitchen cleaned up, he and Levi had the front room to themselves.
“I’d hoped to help Rachel regain her sight by coming,” he ventured, specifying the information he’d discussed with Rachel. “Clearly, her sight hasn’t returned, and I wonder if she might benefit from a Christian counselor, or even a secular therapist who has experience with such cases.”
“Maybe.” Levi smiled sympathetically.
“Do you know of anyone locally?”
“Well, I know that Rachel has talked with her pastor’s wife on several occasions.”
“Is there a grief group she might join, as well?”
Levi frowned. “I don’t know if she needs a group like that, really. Seems to me she’s moved past her heartache over Jacob and Aaron.”
Philip didn’t press for an explanation but trusted the man’s opinion. It was hard not to. Integrity emanated from Levi. “I hope I didn’t stick my neck out with Rachel, sharing some of the materials I gleaned. I even went so far as to tell her about discussions I had with several New York psychotherapists.”
“Well, how’d she take it?”
“Fine … just fine. But I hope she understands that I came to help … not to cause her confusion.”
Levi eyed him curiously. “Just to help, is that it?”
He shrugged, uncertain of what to say.
“I think there may be more to it, Philip.”
How Levi Glick, whom he had met only yesterday, seemed to know and understand Philip’s personal struggle, he did not know.
The Lord’s Day was turnin’ off right nice as Susanna and Benjamin rode home from preachin’ service. Now it was much lighter, what with the sun shinin’ bright and hard against a backdrop of snow and ice, nearly blinding. The road ran downhill past farmland, now dormant for the winter, and gently sloping yards of one Amish neighbor after another.
The Crossroad Page 18