A View from the Buggy (25 page)

“I'm glad to hear that.” Leroy leaned forward. “So your desire to be part of the church is still the same?”

“Yes,” I said. “I need the church and I want to do my part in supporting her as a faithful member.”

“I will discuss this with the other ministers, then,” Leroy said. “But I see no reason why you can't join the instruction class this fall.”

A deep feeling of unworthiness filled me as I listened to the bishop's words. God had helped me this far, and God would help me onward. It was the only way I could go on.

Baptism

Kenneth Gingerich

On hearing this, they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus (Acts 19:5).

A
N EXPECTANT HUSH FILLED THE CROWDED HOUSE
. T
HE CLOCK
'
S HAND
pointed at 10:30 as Bishop Leroy slowly rose to his feet. He glanced along the many rows of men and women sitting on the backless wooden benches. They all looked at him with expectation. Finally the bishop's gaze rested on the front benches where three boys and two girls sat with solemn faces.

I was on the front bench that day seated between the other two boys.
It won't be long now
, I thought. This was the day I had so long looked forward to. I would be baptized. Somehow the nervousness I expected wasn't in my heart. Instead, I felt a peace and even joy.

Bishop Leroy began to speak on the meaning of baptism and church membership. From there he moved on to the account in Acts where the first church was founded on the day of Pentecost after Peter's sermon. The bishop spoke in a simple style, straightforward. In his earnestness he sometimes forgot himself and strode back and forth in front of the other ministers. I too became taken up in his message.

“We do not need to go to prison for our faith today, as our forefathers did,” the bishop said. “But that doesn't mean we aren't tried for our faith. You have probably already discovered that there are still trials and temptations in our lives. That won't change just because you are baptized. Trials and temptations are something we must face as long as we live. This is how we are often tried for our faith today. But with the help of God we can be victorious.”

The hands on the clock continued to move steadily. I shifted on the
bench and bowed my head. Yes, I knew this was true. The way of the Christian wasn't always easy. But God had not let me down even once. Even if I failed, God had always been there to take me back.

As the bishop went deeper into his sermon a hush settled over the congregation. The time of the baptism drew near. The bishop finally came to the story of Philip and the eunuch in the book of Acts.

“Here is water; what doth hinder me to be baptized?” the eunuch had asked.

Philip told him, “If thou believest with all thine heart, thou mayest.”

“I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God,” the eunuch responded.

And Philip had taken the eunuch down to the water and baptized him on his confession of faith.

Bishop Leroy paused and looked at us. “Dear young people, if you desire to make this confession of the eunuch your own, you may kneel before the congregation.”

A calm filled my heart as I knelt with the others.

The bishop asked us the questions.

“Do you believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of the God?”

“Yes,” we all answered.

“Do you recognize this to be a Christian church and fellowship under which you now submit yourselves?”

“Yes.”

“Do you renounce the world, the devil with all his subtle ways, your own flesh and blood, and desire to serve Jesus Christ alone, who died on the cross for you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you promise before God and the church that you will support these teachings and regulations with the Lord's help, faithfully attend the services of the church, help to counsel and work in the church, and not forsake it whether this leads to life or death?”

“Yes,” we all answered in unison.

Bishop Leroy gazed across the crowd. “You have heard their vows. Let's rise for prayer.”

The congregation stood while we stayed on our knees. Little
children craned their necks to see better. I straightened my back as my turn came and the hands of the bishop cupped on my head.

“Upon your confession of faith, made before God and these many witnesses, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Tiny rivulets of water ran down my face and dropped on the floor as the deacon poured. I squeezed my eyes shut. A tear threatened to join the water on the floor. Behind me, I heard Mom blow her nose while Dad huskily cleared his throat. It was indeed a solemn moment. Here I was, an unworthy member of the bride of Christ.

“Oh God,” I prayed silently, “help me stay faithful whether it leads to life or death. And Father, thank You for providing victory over sin.”

The Buggy Wreck

Titus Yoder

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee (Isaiah 26:3).

P
ING
!
T
EACHER
T
IMOTHY TAPPED THE LITTLE BELL ON HIS DESK
signaling the end of another school day. With much rustling we pupils put our books away, ready to be dismissed.

Fifth grader Andrew took the wastebasket around to collect the various scraps we had accumulated during the day. When Andrew finished he returned to his seat and we all rose to join our two teachers in a parting song. Another tap on the bell signaled our dismissal and we all filed out to the cloakroom in chaotic lines.

“Larry,” I said as we went out, “it's our turn to bring in wood. Let's see if we can be done before our sisters finish sweeping the classroom.” I grabbed the wheelbarrow and we headed for the woodshed.

A few wheelbarrow loads later, we had the wood box filled, but the girls were already finished sweeping. I went back out to get our horse ready to go home. First, I used a scoop shovel and carefully cleaned out his stall before I threw his droppings on the manure pile behind the barn. Next, I got his bridle, pulled it over his head, and buckled it around his neck. Then, I led him from his stall to our buggy. Soon, I had him hitched up and held on to his bridle while I waited for my sisters.

“You're a good boy, Nicky,” I murmured as I scratched his neck. “What would we do without such a faithful old horse like you?”

The school door slammed and I saw my three sisters rushing out. We all squeezed into our single-seated buggy and drove out on the lane.

“I got a hundred percent on my arithmetic test today!” second grader Anna Mary squealed as we started down the road.

“Oh, good for you. That's always a nice feeling, isn't it?” sixth grader Rebecca praised her. “On my last one, I got a ninety-six percent and thought I did quite well.”

“It's the English tests that always cause me problems,” I said. “I've gotten a one hundred percent in arithmetic, but if I could get one in English I'd be tickled pink. Usually I have a hard time even reaching ninety-one or ninety-two percent.”

“Amy looked so funny today,” laughed third grader Joanna. “We were cutting out pictures in art class and she was really concentrating on being careful. What looked so funny was the way she kept opening and closing her mouth along with her scissors.”

“That would have been funny,” chuckled Rebecca as she leaned out of the buggy to wave at our classmates Susan and Anna, who came out of the driveway of the little bulk food store run by Beth Yoder.

“Oh dear, now they'll probably pass us,” I muttered. “I wish this old plod was safe and fast instead of safe and slow.”

Sure enough, in no time at all they caught up with us and whipped past with mischievous grins.

“My, their horse is feeling good,” Joanna remarked. Then she gasped, “Oh, no! Look!”

Up ahead the speeding buggy was rocking violently to one side and then the other. Through the back window the girls' heads and arms were seen wildly bobbing and flailing. A leg poked out the door and disappeared again. The snap-down curtain in the back popped open and groceries flew out. A pack of frozen blueberries burst and bounced in all directions. With a final vicious sway, the buggy crashed onto its left side and slid to a stop. In its wake it left scattered groceries, a head covering, a shoe, and one very rumpled looking girl lying in a little heap.

“Whoa, Nicky!” I yelled as I pulled him to a stop. “Joanna and Anna Mary, you watch him while we go help.”

Rebecca and I hopped out and ran up to the wreckage just as another rumpled person appeared at the door, which was now on top. It was Susan and she clambered out to limp back to Anna, who was still lying on the road. “Oh, Anna! Are you okay?” she sobbed.

“I don't know,” Anna groaned, easing up to a sitting position. “I think so. Nothing feels broken.”

Seeing that no one was critically hurt, I turned my attention to their horse. Fortunately, he hadn't panicked in the hubbub but stood still, seemingly bewildered by the sudden turn of events. With Susan's help I managed to get him unhitched and away from the buggy. Then Susan helped Anna hobble back up the road to the store where they cleaned up a bit and bandaged their cuts and scrapes.

By now their father, Greg, had appeared. He had been summoned by Ron, a neighbor who had witnessed the accident. He raced off in his pickup to the sawmill where Greg worked and brought him over.

“Where are the girls? Are they all right?” he asked.

“Yes, they're okay,” I said. “They're at the store. They've got some bruises and scratches, but aren't seriously hurt.”

He checked up on them and was soon back. “We'll need to get this buggy off the road,” he said. “Ron, can we put it on your trailer to haul it home?”

Ron got his trailer and with a heave and a shove the buggy was set up and rolled onto the trailer. It was discovered that one side of the shafts had broken loose and that was what caused the buggy to go out of control and tip over.

Once everything was taken care of, we siblings all piled into our buggy once more and with faithful, steady Nicky plodding along, we continued our drive home.

“Maybe a slow horse isn't so bad after all,” I mused. “They probably wouldn't have tipped if they hadn't been going so fast.”

On our arrival home, Mom met us at the door. “Are you all okay?” she asked. “It kept getting later and later and then I saw Ron go past with a bashed-up buggy.”

“Yes, we're fine,” we chorused. Then we all proceeded to tell her what happened.

Once Mom got the story straight she shook her head and said, “My, you did have some excitement! Thank God nobody was seriously hurt.” Then she grinned at me and added, “I'm also glad that we have a nice slow horse for you children.”

Christmas Caroling

Joanna Yoder

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord (Luke 2:11).

I
CAREFULLY FASTENED A BIG GREEN BOW ON TOP OF THE BREAD BAG
with a piece of Scotch tape. Then I chose a smaller white bow and taped it to the side of the jar of apple butter. I stood back to survey my work. “That looks good,” I decided. “Now to get a card ready…”

Tonight my brother Titus and my sister Rebecca and I planned to go Christmas caroling along with the rest of the youth. We had been asked to take along a plate of goodies to leave at one of the places where we would sing. At Mom's suggestion, I had decided to take a loaf of the bread she had made that afternoon and a pint of homemade apple butter.

I hurried to the desk and got the box of Christmas cards. I picked a card with a picture of a baby in a manger. On the inside I wrote, “Dear Friends, may you have a blessed Christmas! From the Evart Amish Youth Group.” I taped the card to the side of the loaf of bread and placed everything in a small box. There! Now I needed to get myself ready.

I went into my bedroom and opened the closet door. Which dress should I wear, dark green or light blue?

I grabbed the blue.
This one is so cheery, just like Christmas
, I thought, so excited for tonight's adventure. I loved singing Christmas carols. And it was even more fun to sing them with my friends.

A few minutes later I hurried into the kitchen. Titus was sitting at the table eating a toasted cheese sandwich. He said, “Joanna, you better hurry. I'm about ready to go.”

“I know,” I said.

“Joanna, do you want a sandwich too?” Mom asked.

“Yes, but wrap it in foil so I can eat it on the way,” I said. “I still have to comb my hair.”

“Where are you going?” four-year-old Esther asked.

“To the community building,” I answered. “All the youth are meeting there, and then we're going caroling. There'll be four wagons, but we'll split into two groups. That way we'll be able to sing for more people.”