But how did a man refuse? Roman had never heard of anyone not living up to his obligation. Moreover, he’d promised the bishop when he was baptized that he would be willing to accept the process, if he was ever considered a suitable candidate.
“Are we choosing a new preacher today?” he asked, mainly to buy himself another minute of time.
“Jah.” Bishop Coblentz’s gazed sharpened. “We had hoped to only announce it today, so that the men could all pray about the opportunity. But I’m afraid in two weeks many folks have plans to head south for vacation or to visit family to celebrate Easter.” He shrugged. “So, we’re doing it today. It’s God’s will anyway, ain’t so?”
“Jah,” Roman said quietly. Bishop Coblentz was right. This was all under God’s control, and because of that, it made little difference when the new preacher would be named.
The bishop pressed a hand onto Roman’s bicep. “Gut. I wanted to speak to you first, to be sure you were able to accept God’s calling if He sees fit.” Softly, the bishop added, “I’m sure we would all understand, Roman, if you thought that your father’s troubles were weighing too heavy on you to accept His call at this time.” He shrugged. “Life has a way of taking twists and turns for everyone. If you don’t feel ready for the responsibility, I’m sure there will be another opportunity to serve.”
Roman sighed in relief.
He didn’t have to say yes. Bishop Coblentz would understand. Perhaps the other men in his community would, too. But forevermore Roman knew that he would feel guilty if he refused the calling. It wasn’t the Amish way to push things aside because they felt too hard or scary. More important, it wasn’t his way. “If God wants to use me, I am willing and able to try my best.”
“You are sure?”
Now, Roman didn’t even hesitate. It was as if the Lord was behind him, prodding him forward. Helping him be the man he wanted to be. “I am sure.”
Slowly, the bishop’s lips curved above his long, graying beard. “Roman, I am happy to hear you say that. I promise, a willingness to be used by the Lord is all that anyone can ask for.” He clapped a work-weathered hand on his shoulder. “Jah, I am most pleased. Well now, the four other men are already gathering in the barn. Let’s get on with it then.”
He turned and walked back toward the barn. Strode forward with steady, even steps, never pausing or looking over his shoulder to see if Roman was following.
But of course, there wasn’t any need for that. Roman had given his promise.
Silently, Roman followed, nodding to John Miller and another couple of men who were standing around, watching to see who would be part of the lot. A few women looked up as he passed, then turned back to their conversations after giving him encouraging smiles. It was obvious word had already spread that a new preacher was about to be selected.
As he entered the dark barn and met the gazes of the other men assembled, Roman secretly told himself that his chances to be chosen were slim. He was the youngest man by a good eight years.
Surely God would choose a better, more experienced man than him? Someone who wasn’t so confused about his life and his family? Who wasn’t half in love with a lady in Florida?
That made him pause. Was he already “half in love”?
Was he already in love? Did he love Amanda Yoder?
Yes.
The answer came to him as clearly as if the Lord himself had just whispered into his ear.
He loved Amanda Yoder.
His mind spun as Bishop Coblentz walked to the front of the barn and gestured toward the neat stack of hymnals. “The Lord speaks to each of us in His own way,” he began to the group of them. “It is up to each of us to open his heart to God’s will.”
Levi, the man on his right, murmured his agreement.
As Bishop Coblentz spoke, talking about responsibility and commitment, Roman let his mind drift to the one person he couldn’t stop thinking about. He wondered when he could get away to see Amanda again. Perhaps he could go see her in three or four weeks, even if just for a few days. It would be a hard trip, of course, and his family would probably be displeased about him going away again so soon.
But Roman knew he could ask the other men in the family to watch over things . . . and after all, it wasn’t like he had always shirked his duties.
No, he’d never shirked his duties. . . .
“Roman? It’s your turn,” Levi muttered.
“Huh?” With a start, he realized that the other men held hymnals in their hands. “Oh. Sorry,” he muttered, as he walked up to the stack and picked the next one. He held the book with both hands.
Silence settled over them as each man seemed to tense slightly in anticipation.
“It is time,” Bishop Coblentz said. “Open your hymnals. Inside one is a verse from First Corinthians.”
In unison, the five men did as the bishop directed. Some flipped through their hymnals quickly. Others were like him, letting their nervous fingers flip through the paper-thin pages carefully, trying not to rip the pages.
As men found nothing, they shut their books with firm hands. And Roman’s heart began to beat a little faster. Realizing he was borrowing trouble, he mentally berated himself. There was no way he would have the Scripture verse. In just a few seconds, he would be closing his hymnal, too. Then he could go back to thinking about Amanda, and making plans to see her again.
Visions of their reunion calmed him. Before he knew it, he was imagining her in a blue dress on their wedding day.
Yes, it was fanciful to imagine her as his wife, but the daydream was doing what his reality hadn’t been able to do. He was feeling calmer, more at peace.
More slowly, he thumbed through his hymnal, looking for a loose slip of paper. Little by little, he realized that the other men were now sitting quietly.
And that everyone’s eyes were focused on him.
Then he saw what he’d been dreading—and what he’d thought he wouldn’t actually see. Beside him, Levi nodded.
Swallowing hard, he felt his options for the future slip away. With a heavy hand, he lifted the paper. “It is I,” he said.
Bishop Coblentz stared at him intently. “Roman Keim, will you accept God’s will?”
“I will accept,” Roman said solemnly, not daring to look at John Miller or his uncle Sam or his grandfather. He didn’t want to see the sympathy in their eyes. Not even the warm glow of pride.
Instead, he looked straight ahead and kept his back stiff.
And tried not to think at all.
Bishop Coblentz nodded. “His will is done.”
He’d managed to avoid most of the family until supper time on Monday night.
But as Roman sat down across from Viola, felt Elsie’s gaze on him, and saw the knowing glance of his grandfather, he realized he had no choice but to talk about his new responsibilities in the church. It was obvious they’d all heard. And just as obvious that they were trying their best to let him be the leader of the discussion.
He knew they were curious. But for the life of him, he couldn’t bear to talk as if he was ready to be one of their district’s preachers.
Even though he’d already told all the men that he’d accepted God’s will.
Which, of course, made him feel even more confused and upset.
Tucking his chin, he forked another bite of green bean casserole and chewed. Anything to delay the inevitable.
For the last twenty-four hours, the feeling of following God’s will warred with his own selfish wishes. In the middle of the night, he’d felt so torn, he wasn’t able to fall back to sleep and had lain there, restlessly struggling with the news.
“Please pass the sweet potato casserole, Roman,” his mother said. “And while you’re doing that, perhaps you could at last speak to us about what’s happened.”
Feeling like the glass dish weighed three tons, he lifted it and passed it clumsily to Elsie. “Here.”
She took it without a word, but he could almost feel her frustration with him. A
nd he saw clearly that she’d had to shift her hands quickly in order to not drop the dish on the table.
Which made him feel worse than he already did.
“Yesterday after church, Bishop Coblentz told me that I was one of the men who had received the most votes from the congregation for the open preaching position. The five men who were nominated drew hymnals. Mine was the chosen one,” he said matter-of-factly. Because after all, those were the facts.
As he’d expected, no one burst into praise. Or shouted a congratulation. All knew it was a heavy burden to carry, especially in a man his age. Preachers were expected to carry out all sorts of pastoral duties, the same as in any other Christian denomination. However, in the Amish community, the preachers were not supported by the church.
Therefore, men kept their regular jobs, then added the new duties. For some men, it could be too much, especially over a long period of time.
“Well, what do you think about it?” Viola asked.
Roman met his grandfather’s gaze. Roman had seen him sit quietly in the back of the barn when the hymnals had been drawn. To his credit, he hadn’t said a single word about what had happened, either.
Instead, he’d let Roman have the time he needed to come to terms with what lay ahead.
“There is nothing to think about,” Roman declared. “What’s done is done. Besides, it’s the Lord’s decision.”
“Jah, that is true,” his grandfather said with a nod. But he didn’t look entirely in agreement with his words. “Accepting God’s calling is not always easy to do, but it is necessary. A man who accepts God’s will without complaint is a man to be respected.”
Just as his grandmother nodded, Viola shook her head. “Hold on. I understand that you had no choice but to be in the lot, and that you’ve accepted the Lord’s calling.”
He raised a brow. “But?”
“But you must have some opinion about it. Are you excited? Nervous? Upset? Confident?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” Roman shifted uncomfortably, wishing he could ease out of the room and sit and stew in private.
“Of course it matters what you think,” Elsie blurted. “As a matter of fact, I think it might matter a lot.”
Elsie’s comment drew more than one startled glance. “How so?” their mamm asked quietly.
“Well, the Lord’s will may be final, but that doesn’t mean we have to agree with His decisions.”
“Elsie, you can’t mean that,” their grandmother exclaimed.
“Sure I do,” Elsie countered. “I mean, I’ve accepted that one day I won’t see . . . that one day I will no longer enjoy the sunrise or spring pansies or the sight of your faces. I’ve accepted that will be my future, but I’m not happy about it.”
Around the table, everyone lowered their heads, anxious to change the subject as almost always happened when Elsie mentioned her disease.
But instead of remaining quiet like she usually did, she glared. “Ignoring things doesn’t make them better. But sometimes talking about how we feel can make our burdens easier to bear.”
To Roman’s surprise, it was their grandmother who spoke up. “That is true, Elsie. You are right. We should all be talking about things that are on our mind. Roman, I know your father isn’t here to advise you. Have you found someone to talk things through with?”
There was no way he was going to share his private thoughts around the dinner table. He could hardly imagine what they might say about his love for Amanda Yoder and his fear about preaching in front of the whole church.
“There’s no need to discuss anything, Mommi,” he said sharply. “I gave my consent to be considered to the Bishop, I drew that hymnal, and I’ve accepted the Lord’s choice.”
His grandmother didn’t look cowed in the slightest. “But what about the girl in Florida?”
He set his fork down. “Amanda?”
She looked impatient. “Of course I mean Amanda. I’ve seen you on the phone in the kitchen, Roman. Hasn’t she been the girl you’ve been talking to?”
“I’ve been calling her. And writing,” he admitted somewhat grudgingly. Because, well, his phone calls weren’t his grandmother’s business.
“Well, then? What are you going to do about her?”
His temper broke. “Well, then?” he echoed. “Well, I have no idea. I hadn’t planned on being a preacher, and especially not anytime soon.”
Now that he’d begun, he could hardly stop; it was like another person had taken ahold of his tongue. “Actually, I’d been hoping to see her again, but now it looks like the Lord has made other plans for me.”
Standing up, he pushed the chair out behind him with a noisy scrape. “I’m sorry, Mamm. I’ll clean up my plate in a moment. But for now, I need to get out of here.”
Like a sulking child, he tore out of the room, pulled open the back door, and raced outside.
Only when the cold wind whipped against his cheeks did he realize he was crying.
And only then did he speak the awful, awful question that had been brewing in his stomach from the first moment Bishop Coblentz had asked him to chat. “Why me, Gott? Why me? Why now?”
Chapter Fifteen
While the rest of the family sat stunned, staring at the closed door, Viola stood up. She couldn’t simply sit and worry, and she certainly didn’t feel ready to debate Roman’s behavior with her mother and grandparents. “I’m going to start clearing the table, Mamm.”
Her mother looked at her in surprise. “Oh. Well, all right . . .”
“I’ll help,” Elsie said just as quickly.
More than ever, Viola was thankful for her twin. Elsie was the one person she never needed to hide her feelings from. It was usually because she was feeling the same way. After picking up both her plate and Roman’s, she walked to the kitchen. Elsie followed with her own plate in her hands.
Once they were together in the privacy of the kitchen, they put down the plates on the counter and stared at each other in wonder as they began to fill the sink to drown out their voices.
Elsie broke the silence. “Have you ever seen Roman like this before?”
“You know I haven’t,” Viola answered, adding soap to the water. “Gosh, Elsie, I didn’t even think Roman knew how to be angry. All he’s ever done is hold his temper and calmly discuss things.”
“He’s always been the one to remind us to be patient.”
“And to pray and follow the Lord’s way,” Viola added. When they were younger, Roman’s patient, preachy ways had driven her crazy. He’d never understood her need to act on things impulsively, and had made no bones about sharing his opinions.
Elsie lowered her voice. “I think he really is missing that woman. I know he misses Daed, too. And now he’s been given this new responsibility. I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling. I bet he’s worried and frustrated and hurting.”
Elsie always did have a way of reading other people clearly. “I bet you’re right.”
“I sure don’t know how to help him, though.”
“Elsie, there’s got to be a way to make things better. He’s a gut man, and a gut bruder. I want him to be happy.”
“I know, but he’s got to come to terms with the reality. He’s pining for a woman who lives over a thousand miles away. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you want something. Sometimes you have to understand that there are things you simply can’t change.”
Viola felt her heart clench, knowing that Elsie was referencing her disease. “I agree, but maybe Amanda could come here? Then Roman could see Amanda without leaving the farm and his new church responsibilities.”
“I don’t know if Roman will feel comfortable asking that. A woman likes to be pursued. Plus she has a daughter. Roman said she had a nice life out there in Florida.”
“We could ask.”
Elsie’s eyebrows rose. “You mean Roman could ask her.”
“No, I mean we could give her a call and ask her if she’d be interested in visiting. If she say
s yes, then we can let Roman know.”
“He won’t like that.”
“That’s true, but that’s also what sisters are for, I think. To meddle in places where their brothers don’t want them involved.” As Elsie shook her head slowly, Viola couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, come on, twin. It will be like we’re kinner again.”
“No, following him around on the playground at school would be like we were kinner again. This is interfering with his life, Viola.”
“It’s in his best interests.” She pushed away Elsie’s protests by gesturing to the dining room. “We better finish clearing the table before Mamm asks what we are doing.”
“I know what you’re doing, you know,” Elsie said. “You’re hatching a plot that I’m going to have to put into play—and have to deal with the consequences of.”
“What do you mean?”
“While you’re in Belize, I’ll be here, dealing with the repercussions.”
Viola felt slightly guilty. But not guilty enough to back down. “You’re always telling us you’re stronger than we think, sister. Now you can prove it.”
And with that, she strode back into the dining room and picked up her grandparents’ plates. They were deep in discussion with their mother. Not one of them even looked Elsie’s and Viola’s way as they finished clearing the table.
And just like that, Viola felt every bit of her exuberance fade away. Her family was feeling the burden of change more than ever.
When they returned to the kitchen, she noticed that Elsie’s playful manner had faded as well.
After scraping the plates, Elsie walked to her side, a dishcloth in her hand. As Viola washed each plate, Elsie silently dried it and put it in the cupboard. It was a task they’d easily done a hundred times before, and the familiar comfort of the chore brought a peace that an hour-long conversation never could have done.
When their stack of dirty dishes was gone and the leftovers neatly put away, Elsie turned to her. “Viola, you are exactly right. Something needs to be done for Roman. It’s not in his nature to push for something he wants. He’s always been the member of the family to stand aside while the rest of us get our way.” She paused. “Roman deserves happiness. We all do.” Taking a deep breath, Elsie added, “If you don’t have time to call Amanda, I will.”
The Days of Redemption Page 33