by Murray Pura
“Moses!”
His eyes opened as she smoothed back his hair. Blood swiftly covered her fingers.
“Hey.” She could hardly hear him. “I’m…sorry…Rebecca…I think I did not…did not tie off the rope…properly…it did not hold me when I fell…”
“Shh. Shh.” She ran her hands over his cheeks. “They’ve called for an ambulance. It will be here soon.”
“But not soon enough…I was only waiting for you, that’s all—”
“Hush. Don’t say that. You’ll be fine. You have to be fine. For me. I need you. Moses. Listen to me.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“Moses!” In a flash, as if someone had snuffed out a candle flame with a quick pinch of their fingers, the light left his eyes. “Moses!” She threw her body over his, lifting his head and kissing his lips and face. “Moses! I love you! Don’t…”
Blood was on her hands and mouth and cheeks. It trickled down her face as her father gently pulled her away. She buried herself in his arms.
“Oh, Daddy! What has God done? What’s happened?”
“I am here for you. Always. I am here.”
“I loved him! I loved him!”
Hands touched her back. She made out a few of the faces. One was Bishop Zook, tears sliding into his white beard. Another was Pastor Miller, his dark eyes darker than she had ever seen them. Another was Moses’ mother, Emma. She felt Emma’s kiss on her head. Then watched as her own mother took Emma in her arms.
The grief was the sharpest pain Becky had ever known. It cut into her chest and stomach and throat and raked her arms. Deep cries came from far inside, cries she had never heard come from her body before. She thought she sounded like a creature caught in a trap or sinking into a slough, its hope gone, desperate. She didn’t want to eat, she didn’t want to drink, didn’t care if she took another breath. Sleep didn’t come and she didn’t care that it wouldn’t come.
She had never seen a dead room but the Yoder house had one. Moses’ body was washed and dressed in clean black pants and a clean white shirt and laid in a simple wooden coffin Bishop Zook had built for his grandson the very afternoon of the accident. The next day people filed past him in silence. Becky wanted to go to him, but part of her couldn’t move. Her mother and Aunt Ruth and Emma helped her, walked over with her. No makeup was used as the English would have done. It was his face, his eyebrows, his perfect features. “How sweet you are,” she whispered over and over again, “how sweet you are, my darling.”
Bishop Zook wept as he spoke a message in the house about his grandson and the love of God. “No matter how we may hurt today, no matter how we may grieve, God is in this, he is not far away, he has his hands on this, he has Moses in his arms. Die Liebe Gottes ist nicht aufzuhalten.”
The love of God is unstoppable.
A long dark line of buggies wound its way to the graveside. The sun was hot and clear. It is not right, she thought, that he should be dead on a day as beautiful as this, that we should be putting him in the ground on a day like this, that we should be covering him in earth when he loved the air and the sky so much. Nate kept his arm around her the entire time. She couldn’t stand on her own. He seemed to know that and she was grateful for his strength.
“Thank you, Nate,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
“Shh,” he said in his quiet voice. “God knew I needed to be here and that’s why I’m no longer in China. It’s a small thing for me to do for you.”
“It’s not a small thing…”
“Shh. All right. I love you. We’ll get through this.”
“I don’t see how. I feel like going down into the grave with him.”
“We’ll make it.”
“Even if we do make it, I’ll never be the same again.”
“Shh.”
“I won’t.”
One week later she tried to return to the classes. Everyone was gentle, everyone spoke quietly as they read verses from the Bible to her about the Amish way. Pastor King began to lecture about how becoming Amish was more important than anyone or anything, that everything else that happened in life was as dross compared to worshipping God as an Amish man or woman should, that nothing—not even grief or sorrow or loss—must blind her for a moment to the path he had laid out for her among the Amish people.
“No one must take the place of God. No one must be higher than him in our thoughts. No matter who on earth we love, it must be God whom we love more.” He nodded at Becky as she sat silently in her chair. “Sometimes those we care for are taken away because we put them in the place where only God is supposed to be. In order to bless us more richly, he removes those we love too much so that he can love us more. No one can be where he should be in our heart.”
Becky squeezed her hands tightly together. “What?”
Bishop Zook stood up and motioned for Pastor King to take his seat. “It is perhaps too strongly put. Remember this is a difficult time for the child.”
“The Lord gives, the Lord takes away,” rumbled Pastor King. “Often enough we are the reason he must take away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Becky got to her feet. “I must go. I’m sorry. I’m not well.”
Pastor King folded his arms over his chest.
“I understand,” Bishop Zook said. “These are rough waters for us all. Let me drive you home.”
“Thank you. My brother is outside. He has been waiting.”
“Let me bless you.” He bowed his head and prayed briefly in German. Then he looked up. “We will see you here Thursday night?”
Becky didn’t respond. She left the Zook house and climbed into the buggy beside Nate. The sun had set and a cool wind moved over the fields.
“How was it?” he asked as he urged Katie forward.
She didn’t answer.
“You look as if you’re carved out of stone.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Hungry?”
She shook her head. “I don’t care if I ever eat again.”
He clicked his tongue at Katie. “Is your next class Thursday?”
Becky stared straight ahead.
Nate tried again. “Are you going to the Thursday class?”
“I’m not going to another Amish class for the rest of my life.”
He was silent a few moments as the horse’s hooves clacked against the roadway. “Why?”
“King.”
“What happened?”
“He said Moses had been taken because I made him more important than God.” She put a hand to her eyes and bent her head. Nate saw the tears drop onto her dress. “I am not Amish. I can never be Amish. Not without Moses. This has been a great mistake.” She jerked her head up. “Oh, my God, you know how much I loved him. But not more than you. Not more than you.”
Bishop Zook came over to the Kurtz house that Sunday evening after the singing, parking his buggy in the yard. His visit was expected. Coffee and cookies were set before him but he didn’t lift the cup or take anything from the plate. He folded his hands on the table.
“I received your note Thursday morning,” he said to Becky. “Danke.”
“Bitte.”
“It is his way. The more so as he grows older. There is truth in what Pastor King says, but the way in which he delivers it is not always in the best spirit.”
Becky didn’t reply.
Her father leaned forward. “Do you agree with Pastor King?”
“I am not God. Who knows why he permits what he permits? It’s a mystery we can never solve on this side. We must trust him. Regardless of the circumstances we find ourselves in.”
Lyyndaya ran her fingers up and down the sides of her glass of water. “Do you truly believe God took Moses away from us because my daughter loved him too much?”
“Me personally? Not so much. But others do. As I said, who knows why he permits what he permits? Even if Pastor King is harsh, one must look past the wrapping on the parcel and concentrate on what is inside.”
No one re
sponded to this.
Bishop Zook looked about the table and nodded his head. “So what have you been thinking? In Becky’s note she said she would not proceed with the baptismal instruction this fall. Are you all in agreement with this?”
“I cannot stay here!” blurted Becky. “It’s not just the death of Moses. It’s what you people think of me.”
“No one thinks the worst of you, Rebecca—”
“Of course you do. The whole community does. Rebecca Whetstone loved Moses Yoder more than she loved God. It was the only reason she wanted to become Amish. To punish her, God took Moses away so that Rebecca Whetstone would set her heart in the right place.” Tears began to make their way down her face as she pleaded with the bishop. “Yes, I loved your grandson. Yes, I wanted to be Amish with him by my side. But marriage to Moses was not the only reason I wished to take my vows. I love the simple ways here. I love the green roll of the land, the horses, the children. I love the people and their faith. I love the gentleness and grace.” She wiped at her eyes with her hand. “Now I see a hardness. A judgment. I hear words being spoken behind my back. I hear you tell me Pastor King might be right—that I am such a wicked person God had to remove Moses Yoder to set me straight.”
“No one said you were wicked—”
“Don’t you see I was committing myself to God and to all of you, not just Moses? Don’t you see I was willing to give up the sky and the heavens, something I thought I’d never do? How can I stay here when I know what people are whispering once my back is turned?” She stopped trying to wipe the tears off her cheeks. “I’m leaving, Bishop Zook. I’m going back to my planes and cockpits and my tall white clouds. I should never have left. I should have asked Moses to come into my world rather than trying to fit into his.” She smiled sadly. “But he loved all of you more than he loved me. He would never have left Paradise.”
The bishop sat back and let out a long breath of air. He murmured something no one could hear. Putting his hands in his pockets he looked at Jude and Lyyndaya. “What are you going to do? Weeks ago you considered staying here with Rebecca. Are you thinking of leaving with her when she leaves?”
Jude’s face was dark. “Perhaps.”
“You remember what I said? That there is no turning back this time? If you go, you go?”
“I remember you said that, yes.”
“Sure, I could try to smooth things over again, but what is the point? You’re no longer one of us, are you? None of you are. Except Lyyndaya’s mother and father. And Ruth. I don’t know how you feel, Nate.”
Nate didn’t avert his eyes from the bishop’s gaze. “I feel the same way my sister does. If she leaves I will leave with her.”
“And I also, Bishop Zook.” It was Ruth. “The Lord knows I love you. We all do. We are not ungrateful for all you have done for our family. But they will need me if they go from this place, and I feel that God would have me accompany them.”
Lyyndaya looked at her sister in shock. “What are you talking about? You never brought this up before.”
“Nevertheless, I’ve been praying about it. Especially since Becky returned with a broken heart from the time of instruction this week. How many broken hearts does a young woman need, Bishop Zook? Is one not enough that the church must inflict another?”
“Ruth.” Bishop Zook sat up in his chair. “Who will care for your parents?”
“I have talked with them about this. And my youngest sister, Sarah. No, I did not speak with Lyyndaya or Jude, but I spoke with the others in our family. They are all in agreement. I should remain with those who are being spurned and help them heal.”
“No one is being spurned.”
“Of course they are. Becky for loving your grandson with all her heart. Jude and Lyyndaya for not being able to make up their minds—and believe me, I understand why the church would be frustrated with them. Being Amish is not a merry-go-round a person jumps on and off of. It may be that my sister and her husband must follow God along a different path. I will help them find out.”
The bishop tugged at his beard. “You will not be able to return without repentance.”
“I know that. But it may be I will not return. Splinter groups from Amish communities have started new communities in other places. Perhaps that is what I will do.”
Lyyndaya shook her head. “You can’t do this, Ruth. It’s too much of a sacrifice. And mother and father need you.”
“Sarah and her family will come to this house to live. Harley and Luke and Daniel will pitch in. That has been decided. Mother and Father will be fine.”
Grandmother Kurtz patted Ruth’s hand. “We will miss you. But we shall be in good hands. And I can always pray that one day you shall return to us.”
Lyyndaya stared at her parents and sister. “All this scheming going on?”
Grandmother Kurtz chuckled. “My tea is cool enough to drink now.” She sipped at her cup. “Trying to follow God’s will is not scheming, my dear. At the right time we have brought you into what we believe is right. You had already made up your minds about the Hawaiian Islands without us, hadn’t you?”
Lyyndaya sat still. “I suppose that’s so.”
“The Hawaiian Islands?” Bishop Zook fixed his gaze on Jude. “What is there for you?”
“Friends who need help at a flying school.”
“What? All the way there to help people learn to fly an airplane?”
“Some of it will be instructing army pilots.”
“The army doesn’t have enough teachers of their own?”
“Not who are skilled in stunt flying.”
The bishop sat a moment. Then he reached for a cookie but didn’t eat it, tapping it against the top of the table. “I said I didn’t follow the war news very much and I don’t. But I read enough of it to know how to pray. I understand what it means when Washington freezes the assets of Japan and stops the export of oil. The Japanese will either huddle together in their islands and give up any thought of making their nation mighty. Or they will fight.” The cookie broke in half. “I think they will fight. America would. What is Roosevelt thinking?”
Jude nodded. “I realize he has backed them into a corner.”
Bishop Zook bit into one of the broken halves of the cookie. “Roosevelt wants a war. He wants America in this conflict. That’s what is going on. Where do you think the Japanese will strike us?”
Jude shrugged. “If they choose to fight? I think the South Pacific. Probably the Philippines.”
“So if you go to this flight school you will be training pilots to make war.”
“I know that’s how you see it. For me, it’s an opportunity to teach young men the skills that will keep them alive and give them a better chance of returning to their families.”
“Of course. It is the young Jude all over again.” The bishop looked into his cup. “May I have more coffee?”
Ruth got to her feet. “Of course.” She returned from the stove with the pot. The dark liquid steamed as she poured. “This is so strong now it will make your beard black.”
Bishop Zook laughed. “Some miracle that would be.” He drank slowly. “I condemn no one here. You are a complicated family. But I cannot save you this time. If you go to the Hawaiian Islands and teach men how to fly warplanes and kill, you will be excommunicated. My other bishops will insist upon it. With the exception perhaps of Pastor Miller, our own leadership will demand it.”
“Not Miller?” Jude asked.
“He will vote for it in the end. But he will not push for it. For Pastor Miller mercy is always the better path. That is who he has become in the past twenty years.” He took a longer swallow from his coffee. “I feel as he does. But he is not in my place. I am required to uphold the Ordnung in a way he is not. The way people see it, you have broken faith. Broken the covenant with us. They believe much time has been granted you in order to allow you to change your minds and your ways and you have not done it. Now they will hear you are leaving again to help the army prepare for
war. We are the people of peace. For hundreds of years that has been our way. You know that.”
“It’s not difficult to see you will have no choice.” Lyyndaya drew a pattern on the tabletop with her finger. “Some feel Rebecca has been judged by God and our family with her. They will not be surprised if we leave. They want us to leave.”
The bishop didn’t answer her.
Grandfather Kurtz always had his large black German Bible at the kitchen table. “We read in Isaiah: For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” He looked up. “Who knows? Let us put the Amish of Paradise and the Whetstones and Kurtzes utterly in the hands of God. May I pray, Bishop Zook?”
“Please do so. And I will pray after you have finished.”
Both men prayed for mercy and understanding and the triumph of grace over judgment. Then the bishop hugged and kissed everyone on the cheek before going to the door.
“When are you leaving?” he asked as he put on his hat.
“We will go by rail to San Francisco,” Jude replied. “From there we will take a ship to Honolulu. Our friend who operates the flight school is paying for our passage.” Jude offered his hand. “If we feel the Lord is still in this we will be gone in a week. Perhaps less.”
The bishop shook Jude’s hand with a strong grip. “Go with him then.” He looked at Becky. “What a fine granddaughter you would have been for us. How we love you. Bless you, Rebecca.”
Becky felt she was going to break down. “Thank you. I looked so forward to being closer to you. I wish you well in the Lord.”
In his buggy the bishop paused and looked up at the family standing together on the porch in the lamplight. “For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater: So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.” He picked up the traces in his hands, clicked his tongue, and the horse moved forward into the dark.
