A Blessing for Miriam

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “She would see him,” Aunt Fannie told Bishop Wengerd, who was standing at the front door.

  “Have you not heard the condition of his body?” the bishop protested.

  “She would see him,” Aunt Fannie repeated firmly.

  Bishop Wengerd shrugged and led them into the front bedroom on the first floor. Miriam waited near the door, listening to the sounds of screws being turned in wood. It seemed a long time before Bishop Wengerd stepped aside. Aunt Fannie stayed by the bedroom door as Miriam approached the casket on her own. Another casket sat on the other side, and Miriam reached over briefly to touch its rough-sawn lumber. Then she gazed into the opened casket. He didn’t look like her Wayne. Maybe it was best if things were this way. She would remember him as he had been—alive and in love with her.

  “It is enough,” Miriam said to no one particular. She turned from the casket. Aunt Fannie caught her just before she slipped to the floor.

  Miriam struggled to stay aware, barely realizing Aunt Fannie was holding her up. She didn’t say anything as Aunt Fannie guided her into the living room and into a chair. She would stay here until the funeral was over. That would be the day after tomorrow perhaps. She would not move from the house or from Wayne’s side until they lowered him into the ground. She’d lost him and would say goodbye, depending on God and on memories of Wayne to get her through. That she would always have. Memories. That would have to be enough apparently. The Lord had so willed it, and one did not argue with Him.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Miriam awoke with a start in the upstairs bedroom of the strange house. The faint light of dawn was on the horizon, but the rays of sunlight had yet to penetrate past the drapes across the window. She remembered she was at Wayne’s Uncle Raymond’s house, and today was Wayne’s funeral. She hadn’t wanted to sleep, but Raymond’s wife, Louise, had insisted that she climb the stairs in the wee hours of the morning.

  “Try to shut your eyes at least,” Louise had begged. “You need your strength for tomorrow.”

  Like she needed food, Miriam told herself, the thought bitter. But Louise was right. Mamm and Daett would be here this morning, along with Wayne and Joy’s parents, Eugene and Rosemary. The traveling party all the way from Possum Valley would be more exhausted than she was, even if her whole body ached to the bone. They should be here soon. Miriam stood and pushed aside the drapes on the window. A van was parked below, and several figures had climbed out. The familiar forms of Mamm and Daett brought a sharp intake of breath. The arrival of the van must have been what had awakened her. Miriam pinned her kapp on her head and hurried down the dark stairwell.

  “They’re here!” Louise whispered from near the kitchen doorway. “I was ready to come up and awaken you.”

  Miriam nodded and followed Louise outside. The crisp coolness of the morning air flooded over her face and dried the tears that had formed on her cheeks. Mamm came toward her with her arms opened wide, and Miriam ran the last few steps to meet her. With a loud sob, she let herself be wrapped in her mamm’s arms. “He’s gone, Mamm! He’s gone!” Miriam wailed. “And you never got to meet him.”

  “I know,” Mamm comforted. “But we must not question the will of the Lord even as we sorrow in our hearts.”

  “I’m not.” Miriam choked back another sob. “But Wayne is still gone.”

  Mamm said nothing more but continued to hold Miriam tightly.

  Moments later Daett cleared his throat loudly beside them. “Eugene and Rosemary also mourn,” he reminded. “They have gone into the house, and you should be with them.”

  Miriam pushed away from Mamm with a start, but Mamm held on to her arm. They walked together toward the front porch. Miriam had meant no disrespect by running straight to Mamm instead of greeting Wayne’s parents. They would understand, she was sure. She’d been Wayne’s promised one, but that was now in the past. Still, until the funeral was completed, she would function in that role. She must act like the life they’d planned was still real. Mamm had been right, though. The Lord could change anyone’s plans without any prior consultation. She would have to submit her will afresh today as final goodbyes were made. It would not be easy.

  Miriam leaned into Mamm as Daett held open the front door for them. Wayne and Joy’s parents had disappeared into a back bedroom. Soft sobs drifted from behind the closed door. They would also want to see what she had seen—and see Joy too. Miriam knew it wouldn’t be any easier for them than it had been for her. Likely they would feel the pain even harder than she did. Had they not birthed and loved both of their children into adulthood? She had only known Wayne for a short time, yet in that time a great love had grown between them. A love that had already weathered a fierce storm. Death was one storm that didn’t give back what it took. The sobs from beneath the bedroom door increased. Miriam glanced at Mamm. “Should I go in?”

  Daett cleared his throat, but Mamm spoke first. “Let them have a time alone. You can be with them soon enough.”

  Miriam didn’t press the point. She wouldn’t be much comfort to Eugene and Rosemary anyway. Not with the pain still ablaze in her own heart.

  “Why not tell us about him?” Mamm whispered while they waited.

  Tears stung Miriam’s eyes again. The last thing she wanted right now was to think of the gut times she used to spend with Wayne…or Wayne’s wunderbah qualities that Mamm would never get to experience.

  Mamm pressed a handkerchief into Miriam’s hands. “Please tell us. I know it’s hard, but it won’t get any easier later. And it will help us.”

  Mamm was probably right, Miriam told herself. The memories of the life she used to live with Wayne could easily turn into bitterness if she held it all inside with the hope the pain would decrease on its own.

  “I loved him,” Miriam began. “But you already know that.”

  “Yah.” Mamm’s hand touched Miriam’s gently. “You told us that much when you came home after Shirley’s accident. Can you share a special time you had with him? If it’s not too personal, of course.”

  Miriam swallowed twice, but her voice still came out a whisper. “There’s a little place down by a creek not far from here, down near the schoolhouse. Wayne took me there that first fall when he asked me to be his frau. He took me there again this spring when things were a little rough for me.” Miriam’s voice caught. She paused as the downstairs bedroom door opened. Wayne’s Daett came out first, Rosemary right behind, hanging onto his arm. Their faces were tear-stained. Mamm helped Miriam to stand, and Miriam was thankful because she couldn’t have done so on her own. Not right after she’d spoken such personal memories about Wayne. Daett had also stood, and he led the two of them forward.

  Rosemary let go of Eugene’s arm and hurried toward Miriam, taking her into her arms for a tight hug. “You’ve been so brave,” Rosemary whispered in Miriam’s ear. “I didn’t mean to ignore you when we came in, but I wished to see my son and daughter.”

  “I understand.” Miriam assured her. “And I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “We’re in this together.” Rosemary gave Miriam another long hug before she moved on to the kitchen.

  Daett had been in a whispered conversation with Eugene and now turned to Miriam. “Come, daughter,” he said. “We must pray before the funeral begins. My heart is much troubled about this matter.”

  “This matter?” What had Eugene told Daett? Miriam wondered. No doubt the conditions of the bodies spoke of the great wrath of the storm. That likely reflected the Lord’s wrath. Daett would think so at least. Uncle William had assured her that such thoughts of blame should not be entertained. She would not protest, Miriam decided, but her heart would stand firm in the conviction that the Lord had His reasons for the tragedy. The fault did not lie with anyone in the community. Daett would have to find the answers to such questions on his own. She would pray. That she could always do whatever the reason.

  Mamm’s arm slipped around Miriam’s shoulders as they knelt by the couch beside Daett. Miriam saw Rose
mary glance out the kitchen doorway with a look of understanding on her face. Miriam forced herself to bow her head and focus on Daett’s prayer as his voice rose and fell quietly in the living room:

  Dear God in heaven, You who ride the winds of the storm and speak with Your fierce wrath. Have mercy upon Your children today. Forgive us our trespasses as we have forgiven those who trespassed against us. Hold not our iniquities to our account, and look kindly on Your children here in Oklahoma. Thank You for a safe journey these last forty-eight hours when so many things could have gone wrong. We have arrived safely by the grace of Your hand. Be with us now as we face this new day and say our last goodbyes to a brother and a sister who have been much loved this side of eternity. We believe You hold them in Your arms even now and lay before them all the glories of heaven as befits Your will. Have compassion on us who remain behind. Comfort the hearts that grieve. Amen.

  Miriam stood and wiped her eyes, as did Mamm. Daett’s prayer comforted her. At least he hadn’t laid blame on anyone, and had only asked for forgiveness. Who didn’t need forgiveness? That was a daily prayer they all prayed. Hadn’t Wayne shown her that they both needed to walk in understanding and tenderness toward any weaknesses found in the other? At the thought, a quiet sob rose in Miriam’s throat again. She leaned against Mamm, who helped her to the couch. Daett had gone outside, so only the two of them were in the living room.

  More people would arrive soon. Breakfast would be brought in by the community’s women, and benches would be brought and set up in the living room for the funeral. She didn’t want to see any of that. She didn’t want to say the goodbyes that lay ahead. Yet the moment would come.

  As if someone was reading her thoughts, a buggy drove into the lane. Two others soon followed. Deacon Phillips’s wife, Katie, was the first of the other guests to enter the front door. She carried a large, covered plate in her hands.

  “Gut morning,” Katie’s soft voice greeted gently even as her face remained sober. “This must be your mamm, Miriam.”

  “Yah, it is.” Miriam was on her feet and belatedly made the introductions.

  Mamm shook hands with Katie.

  “You have a wunderbah daughter,” Katie said, a slight smile playing on her face for a moment. “She is much-loved in the community. We all mourn with her.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.” Mamm wiped away a tear. “It’s such a comfort to arrive after a long drive and find that your daughter has been in such gut hands. You have been a great blessing to Miriam. Why the Lord chose to take away so much, we will never understand.”

  Katie nodded. “Yet we will comfort ourselves that the Lord loves those He chastens. We have been chastened greatly these last days, and we humble our hearts to accept both the gut and the difficult from His hands.”

  “I agree,” Mamm said. “Let me take your plate,” she offered.

  Katie held fast the plate. “No, others are coming to help, and you’re not to move a finger as our guest. Other than to eat and prepare for the service, of course. You must be exhausted after all those hours on the road. I see your driver has fallen asleep in the van already. The poor man must have been exhausted.”

  “Yah, the driver did gut,” Mamm agreed. “The Lord was with us. We sang and prayed when sleep became a problem. And he’d stop and nap when necessary.

  “Should we awaken him for breakfast?” Katie asked.

  “He will probably be hungry.” Mamm glanced out the window. “Let me go and ask once the food is ready.”

  “It’ll only be a few minutes.” Katie turned and opened the front door for several other community women. They greeted Miriam, and she introduced Mamm. Then the women hurried on to the kitchen.

  Miriam took a seat on the couch again, and Mamm went to speak with the van driver. Miriam felt a wave of weariness sweep over her, and things became a blur. The plate of eggs, bacon, and toast that Katie brought her ten minutes later never came into focus, and Miriam managed to eat. She moved upstairs when the men brought in the benches and began to set up for the service. The noises downstairs continued for a long time.

  Mamm found Miriam in the upstairs bedroom an hour later. “Come, it’s time to change,” Mamm told her.

  Miriam managed to stand on her own. She lifted a black dress from the closet rod. Aunt Fannie had brought her the mourning clothes the day before. Tears flooded Miriam’s eyes again. Mamm quietly helped her change as if she were a small girl. In some ways she was, Miriam thought.

  Dressed and as ready as she ever would be, Miriam followed Mamm downstairs. The benches for the family were set up near the back bedroom. Miriam took her place beside Rosemary. The extended Yutzy family, including children, gathered on benches behind them.

  The ministers filed in, and the service began. Miriam tried to listen, but the words pushed themselves together in her mind until the voices were soft buzzes. Time slipped by quickly, as if the Lord was revealing His mercy by the tears that fell to the hardwood floor under Miriam’s feet. The usual viewing of the bodies didn’t happen. Instead, the family stood and led the way outside.

  Miriam drove with Daett and Mamm in a buggy Deacon Phillips had supplied for them, but at the graveyard she took her place beside Rosemary.

  Bishop Wengerd stepped forward and with bowed head and clasped hands led out in the final prayer. The wind moved across the prairie, but this time Miriam could make sense of most of the words. When he was finished, both caskets were lowered into the ground and dirt was thrown on them. Miriam kept her sobs quiet, and Rosemary leaned into her.

  When the graveside service was done, the people walked together back to the buggies. Mamm appeared in front of Miriam, slowed down, and took her daughter’s hand. Miriam sank against Mamm, who waited until Miriam could continue. Daett walked up on the other side of Miriam, and between the two of them they helped her into the borrowed buggy. The long line of buggies began to move. Miriam thought she saw Wayne’s buggy ahead of them. Who would be driving his buggy today? she wondered. Likely she would see Wayne in everything for a long time—unless the Lord healed her heart quickly.

  “Help me, Lord, please,” Miriam begged as Daett drove.

  Mamm, sitting beside her, held her hand until they arrived back at the Yutzy home. Miriam whispered, “I have to go on with life now.”

  “I want you to,” Mamm assured her. “We just have to help each other through the rough spots.”

  “The Lord will help us,” Daett said as he brought the buggy to a stop by the barn. “We’ll continue to pray for you, Miriam, and to seek the Lord’s guidance.”

  “Thank you,” Miriam told him. “And thank you for coming to Oklahoma.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Daett said. “The Lord will be with you, Miriam. As I know He already has in mind whatever lies on the road of life ahead of you.”

  Miriam lowered her head and hurried toward the house. Mamm walked closely beside her. Daett’s kind words brought fresh tears to her eyes, but Miriam had cried enough for one day.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The late-evening shadows were creeping across the lawn when Miriam stepped out of Deacon Phillips’s walkout basement door. A weary smile spread across her face at the sight of her horse, Sally, tied to the hitching post. Deacon Phillips’s frau, Katie, had gone out of her way all week to make sure everyone was comfortable and felt welcome for the last week of school—including Miriam. School was being held in temporary quarters in their basement.

  Wayne’s funeral was in the past, and Miriam had struggled to gather herself together these past days. Life must go on. That Sally should be hitched up and ready when she was done working late this Friday night didn’t surprise her. Katie must have encouraged Deacon Phillips to do the task. Miriam decided Katie deserved a moment of her time and a hearty thanks. She walked up the incline to the house and knocked on the front door.

  “Come in!” a cheery voice called out.

  Miriam opened the door and stuck her head in. “You didn’t hav
e to arrange to hitch-up Sally, but thanks! And also thank you for the help and encouragement all week. You and Deacon Phillips have been so kind.”

  Katie appeared in the kitchen doorway. “You know we wouldn’t have it any other way after your great losses—Wayne, Joy, and the schoolhouse.”

  “But it’s still so nice of you.”

  Katie smiled. “Well, you have a gut evening now. I’m sure you’re enjoying having your mamm and daett around. The Lord must have gone out of His way to comfort your heart.”

  “Yah, He has. Thanks again!” Miriam closed the door and walked toward her buggy. She untied the rope, tossed it under the buggy seat, and climbed in. Once inside, Miriam settled in and drove out of the lane toward Route 48. The low profiles of the few homes and buildings left undamaged in Clarita appeared on the horizon. Daett and other men from the Amish community had worked in town the past few days to help the Englisha. They’d also been working on the wrecked schoolhouse site. Just last night Uncle William had told her the basement walls should be up today.

  She should drive past and see for herself. The jaunt might help buoy her spirit, which was still reeling with the pain of losing Wayne. A cloud crossed Miriam’s face, and, instead, she headed Sally toward home. Maybe she would make the trip tomorrow. Tonight she would stay home and rest. A weary body didn’t help a weary and sorrow-filled mind recover any sooner.

  There was also the matter of the upcoming conversation with Mamm and Daett. She still needed to reveal her secret. She’d pushed the subject to the back of her mind all week, using the extra work on her shoulders at school as an excuse. But she needed to settle the matter of giving to the relief effort. She wanted to get their opinion on what to do about the money, but first they had to be told about it. Aunt Fannie or Uncle William hadn’t told them because Daett would have brought up the subject himself. The shock when Daett was told could be considerable, and she hated to have him know she’d been hiding such a secret so soon after the funeral, but there seemed no other way. She’d already waited too long.