The Longing (31 page)
“None of this adds up,” Caleb muttered.
He didn’t know how long he remained there, but some minutes had passed and he sensed something amiss—even absent—in the room. Daed’s arduous breathing had subsided. And when he turned to look, he saw the pallor of death settle over his father’s face. Gone was the fight for each lungful of air; his eyes were closed with the sleep of the ages.
How easily he passed. . . .
Caleb felt like an intruder suddenly—shouldn’t Mamm have been the one present to hear Daed’s last words? Moving to the bedside, he looked more closely and saw a slight smile on Daed’s lips. A good death, as some might say.
Standing there, he felt a sense of peace, followed by his own regret. He had withheld forgiveness from his father . . . and now Daed was dead.
He stared down at the folded callused hands and laid his own there lightly.
“Don’t wait to believe, Caleb. . . . Preacher Manny was right.”
Caleb shuddered at the memory of his father’s final request and went to tell his mother.
By the time they returned from the woods, carrying handfuls of red columbine to give Mamma, Nellie was spent. After the long church service this morning and with Rebekah’s visit, she’d missed sitting down to write her circle letters and her weekly letter to Cousin Treva. She felt tired for some unexplained reason. Unless, was she somehow allowing herself to be burdened by Caleb’s concern for his father? Connected in grief?
She’d enjoyed the walk to the woods, where Rebekah had revealed her hope to marry in November, during wedding season, as Nan smiled knowingly at Nellie Mae.
With a happy sigh, Nellie looked forward to spending the evening hours with Mamma. Nan and Rebekah would soon be heading together to the Sunday Singing.
It was some time later, after Nellie had taken down her hair and was brushing it before bedtime, that someone came riding into the drive, bringing word that David Yoder had died not but a few hours ago.
The morning of his father’s funeral, Caleb found his mother weeping over the kitchen sink. Her hair was still flowing past her waist, and it appeared that she’d come downstairs for some juice. Still wearing her nightclothes and bathrobe, she must have thought she would be alone.
Not wanting to startle her, he went to stand near, unsure how to comfort her. “I’m mighty sorry ’bout Daed’s passing,” Caleb managed to say.
She looked at him with pleading eyes. “Did he make his peace with ya, Caleb?”
He nodded slowly.
A sad sort of smile crept across her lined face. “It was the most peculiar thing.” She drew a long breath. “I believe your father must’ve had heavenly visions—did he tell you?”
“First I’ve heard it.”
She glanced nervously toward the doorway. “He asked me several times the day he died, while I sat with him, if he was ‘in glory yet.’ I didn’t know what to make of it. And then, closer to his time of passing, he seemed ever so joyful.”
He wondered if she’d noticed Daed’s small smile when she came in right after his passing. Or had he only imagined it?
She put a hand to her trembling lips, her eyes filling with tears. “He changed so, toward the end. Honestly, I hardly knew . . .” She couldn’t go on.
“Maybe the medicine was the culprit,” Caleb was quick to say. Certain drugs could alter one’s thinking. Had that been the case for Daed?
“Your father asked forgiveness for bein’
Hochnut
—all puffed up. He regretted treatin’ folks as he did. Ya know what a stickler he was for the ordinance.”
This jolted Caleb. So his father had apologized to Mamm for the very thing he’d accused the new church believers of? He’d told Caleb many times that the New Order and Beachy people seemed to think they were better, because they “knew the Lord.” That had irked him no end.
Footsteps on the stairs brought their conversation to a close when Leah and Emmie came into the kitchen to prepare the pancake batter. The milking was already done, thanks to Jonah
and several sympathetic neighbors. Caleb had been glad for the help, not wanting to awaken his sorrowful sisters on a day that would undoubtedly stretch on for all of them. And as distraught as she already was, he didn’t see how Mamm would make it through the three-hour funeral and the burial service.
Just three short days ago, Daed was alive and sitting at the head of their table. He’d had a momentary reprieve from some of his physical weakness . . . enough to carry him through to his passing. The body required energy to die, or so Caleb had once heard.
Where was his father’s spirit now that his body was soon to be committed to the ground of the nearby cemetery? Was he indeed in heaven?
Caleb made his way upstairs to clean up, pondering Daed’s abnormal behavior. Was it possible he’d found a personal connection with the Lord, like Cousin Chris claimed to have?
Like all the supposedly saved folk
. . .
Word had spread rapidly, and Caleb’s father’s wish was granted. The Yoder farmhouse was packed to standing room only with those faithful to the old church, as well as many who’d gone to the New Order and the local Beachy Amish church. Because he sat close to the front with his Dawdi, brothers, and nephews, Caleb was not able to see how many English neighbors were present, nor if Chris and his family were in attendance.
He put mental blinders on, narrowly focusing on the casket before him. Here, in the front room of his father’s own house, where so many Preaching services had been held all through the years.
Bishop Joseph gave the first and shorter sermon, as Daed had evidently requested. But soon it was clear that the service was a departure from the norm, as one long scripture after another was read, and not from the old German Bible, either. Hearing such sacred words in English jarred Caleb—and others, he was mighty sure.
Why had Daed asked for this? And why had the bishop agreed?
After a full hour, Preacher Manny rose. The second, longer sermon was to begin.
Immediately it was clear that this portion of the service would also depart from tradition, the very thing Daed had defended for so long. “Coming to Christ means you are no longer in denial,” Preacher Manny commenced.
Denial of what?
Caleb froze in his seat.
“David Yoder lived a life pleasing to himself. He requested that I speak to you all today to the best of my ability about the kind of faith that became his before the end.” Preacher Manny held a piece of paper in his hand, his dark hair shiny and clean for the occasion. “David told me to my face that he never knew why he balked so hard at the reality of saving grace, till it struck him between the eyes. He said God had to use a mule to get his attention.”
A low stir rippled through the room.
“Truth is, David laid down his will for God’s. And although he didn’t live long enough to personally share his newfound faith with each of you, his belief in the saving power of Jesus will resonate from his grave.”
Caleb wanted to look and see how his mother was holding up, over there with Rebekah, Leah, and Emmie, and all her daughters-in-law, too—cushioned by the womenfolk.
Preacher Manny continued speaking to the congregation in conversational tones, another departure from their usual way. “If David Yoder were alive today—and strong enough to speak here—he’d want you to know that life is too short to bicker over church ordinances, or to think more highly of ourselves than we ought. Doing so is an abomination in the sight of God.”
Caleb’s neck ached with tension, and he wondered how soon Preacher Manny would get back on track, if he would at all.
Preacher Manny looked out at the congregation, his eyes moving slowly over them before returning to his notes. “With tears of joy, David made a profession of faith two weeks ago. He believed, in the final days of his life, that God’s grace was a gift from the Father’s hand—not something to be spurned, but to be received as the loving blessing it was intended to be. These are the words I read to him when I last saw him, words he openly laid claim to: ‘Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost.’ ” Preacher Manny wiped his eyes with his handkerchief, composed himself, and went on. “So, beloved family and friends of our brother David Yoder, it is only through God’s mercy we are made new, a precious gift indeed.”
Caleb wanted to escape, but he had no place to go. He was compelled by his upbringing and his mother’s would-be shame to remain . . . to endure this unimaginable sermon.
What will the brethren think?
It was talk like this that would get his family shunned . . . and yet, the bishop himself was allowing it. Why should a son question the wishes of his dying father?
Thinking now of his English cousin, Caleb knew Chris would be in full agreement with a sermon like this. And Nellie Mae might well be whispering amen, too.
He stared at the long handcrafted coffin, narrow at both ends. Daed was nestled in there, wearing his for-good clothes. Mamm and her sisters—and other womenfolk—had bathed and dressed him in all black, but for his best long-sleeved white shirt.
He remembered his father’s outstretched hand . . . the humble way he’d asked for forgiveness. And the bequest of land— what Caleb had once so coldly rejected had been unexpectedly offered anew with no conditions attached. Was this the very sort of mercy Manny spoke of?
Sitting straighter now, he returned his attention to the preacher, who opened the German Bible to John chapter eight, verse thirty-six. Then, following that short reading, he moved to the English Bible and read the same words. “ ‘If the Son’—meaning our Lord and Savior—‘therefore shall make you free’—this is the salvation our hearts yearn for, beloved— ‘ye shall be free indeed.’ ” Preacher Manny’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he took out a white handkerchief to wipe his eyes. “Our brother David is no longer trapped in a broken body. He is present with the Savior . . . the very One whose words he denied for most of his lifetime.” He breathed deeply, clearly moved. “And our brother is free in ev’ry way now. He worships the living God even as we gather here to mourn his passing.”
Caleb recalled his father’s good death. Was Mamm right about what she assumed? Had his father experienced glimpses of heaven before dying?
“If the Son shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. . . .”
The verse echoed in his mind . . . the selfsame words he’d read on his own several times now. According to this verse, in some inexplicable way, Daed had found a spiritual freedom in the last days of his life.
This was the first funeral Nellie Mae had ever attended that seemed more like a Preaching service—certainly the messages being delivered were quite unfamiliar to a third of those in attendance. She felt strongly that David Yoder’s death might either unify or further divide the People.
She looked toward the back of the room, where Chris and Zach sat with their family. A few other Englischers were there, as well, including a couple regular customers of the bakery shop.
But today it was Caleb she found herself drawn to, utterly sad for him. A tear trickled down her cheek, and she glanced his way again and saw he was looking at her, his countenance pained. She wondered if he’d had any previous warning about what would be said today by either Uncle Bishop or Preacher Manny. Had David Yoder shared any of this directly with Caleb? If not, how was such a service setting with the family— Caleb in particular, who’d adhered to his father’s tenacious beliefs even when it meant the death of their relationship.
All in God’s hands now.
Aware of the apprehension in the room, she closed her eyes, pleading for divine mercy to settle over the congregation. Nellie added a silent prayer of thanks for the miracle of salvation in David Yoder’s heart, grateful to Chris and his father for their part in this wonderful turn.
Nellie Mae was determined to be a good sister, even if it meant appearing to be meddlesome. She had to know if Rhoda was aware of David Yoder’s death and felt the need to go and visit by herself. After all, Rhoda was surely as lost as David had been, and she was still her dear sister, no matter how far into the world Rhoda wandered.
With this in mind, she left Mamma in charge of the shop and went on foot to the Kraybills’ house midmorning, hoping to see elusive Rhoda there.
She spotted a black-and-white car parked off to the side of the driveway and guessed it was Rhoda’s. Seeing this reminder of her sister’s fancy life, she wondered what David Yoder might share with all of them about that, after four days in Glory.
“Hullo!” she called to Rhoda, who was carrying trash out the back door.
“How’re you, Nellie Mae?” Her sister shielded her eyes from the sun. “What brings you here?”
“I hoped you might have a minute to talk.”
Rhoda frowned. “Well, Mrs. Kraybill’s expecting me to finish cleaning.”
Nellie followed her to the kitchen door. “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to know if you’d heard that David Yoder passed away last Sunday.”
Rhoda shook her head. “Ach, I hadn’t.” She opened the door, and for a moment, Nellie wondered if their conversation was to be cut short. Then Rhoda kindly held the screen door, motioning for Nellie to go inside first. “Maybe we could sit at the table for a bit.” Going to a tall refrigerator, Rhoda opened it and brought out a pitcher of orange juice, already made.
“I’ll make it snappy,” Nellie said. She couldn’t help noticing the modern kitchen, with its shiny dishwasher and double oven—ever so bright and cheerful, too. “Ya know, David Yoder turned to Jesus before he died . . . made his peace with God.” She paused, wondering if she’d make matters worse if she said what was on her mind. “I sure hope you’re happy with your . . . um, fancy life.”
“Why, sure I am.” Rhoda sipped some juice. “How’d David die?”
“He was kicked in the head by one of his mules some time ago.”
“Oh . . . that’s just terrible.” She shook her head. “So many dangers on a farm.”
“So many dangers in the world, too,” Nellie said softly.
