An Unexpected Amish Courtship

by Rachel J. Good

  Lord, you know I’m not worthy to be a minister. Your will be done.

  Then he reached out and selected a hymnbook. Taking a deep breath, he ruffled the pages. A slip of paper. With trembling fingers, Isaac withdrew the verse.

  Chills washed over him. His eyes burned. He couldn’t believe God had chosen him. Not when he had no skill at speaking and he stuttered whenever he was nervous.

  Then deep inside, a still, small voice reminded him: “My grace is sufficient.”

  Although Isaac believed God could do anything, he failed to see how the Lord could use someone so weak and flawed.

  The other men, their eyes damp, but relieved, filed past him. Many squeezed his shoulder, and all of them asked God’s blessing on him.

  Still stunned, Isaac, his stomach churning, made it through the ordination.

  Afterward, all he wanted to do was escape, but he forced himself to act normal and prayed nobody noticed his pasted-on calmness or stinging eyes. His brothers gathered around to commiserate.

  Andrew slapped him on the back. “I’m sorry, Isaac. Although I agree you’d make a great minister, I know it’s the last thing you want to do.”

  Grateful for his brother’s understanding, Isaac managed a halfhearted smile. Ever since Andrew had started dating Ruthie, he’d apologized for his earlier jealousy and nastiness, and Isaac had forgiven his twin. They’d returned to their old camaraderie, and could now read each other’s minds again.

  Andrew deflected most of the people who sought Isaac out. Although Isaac was grateful for everyone’s encouragement, he couldn’t wait to talk to Sovilla. What if she didn’t want to be a minister’s wife?

  After what seemed hours and hours, Isaac finally headed out to the buggy. He helped Sovilla in and waited until the horse had started down the road before sharing his worries. “D-do you mind?”

  “I do for your sake, not for mine.”

  Holding the reins in one hand, he reached for her hand. She smiled, shifted the baby to one arm, and entwined her fingers with his.

  Her sympathetic glance gave him the courage to say what was on his heart. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “It won’t be easy, but God wouldn’t have chosen you if He didn’t want you to do it.”

  “I don’t feel worthy. I’m so young. The other men have much more knowledge than I do.”

  “God doesn’t need human knowledge. His strength is made perfect in our weakness.”

  Isaac marveled at how in tune they were. Sovilla had mentioned the last half of the verse that had come to him during his ordination. “I’m going to need a lot of His strength.”

  She threaded her fingers with his. “We’ll both pray. With God’s help, you’ll do fine. You’ve spent a lot of years listening instead of talking. Now it’s your turn to speak.”

  Dread sloshed in Isaac’s stomach as he pictured standing in front of everyone, unable to get his words out. “What if I stutter?”

  “People will still listen. They go to church to get a message from God’s Word.”

  Sovilla’s words sliced through Isaac’s pride. As a minister, he should be focused on the Lord, not himself. “It’s hochmut to worry about how I sound, to want to be perfect. I shouldn’t care so much about how I appear. I should humble myself before God and let him provide the message.”

  Her brilliant smile reinforced his words.

  That didn’t stop his nerves from zinging. “Next service, I’ll have to read the Scripture passage.”

  Her lips quirked. “You’ve had plenty of practice with that.”

  True. He’d been reading the Bible aloud to his puppies for years. Perhaps all those years of imitating Demosthenes had a greater purpose.

  “Maybe if you pretended the people are dogs,” she teased, “it would be easier. Oh, and you might want to take the gravel out of your mouth.”

  Isaac laughed. “What would I do without your helpful advice?” But her joking suggestion had given him an idea. Over the next two weeks, he’d speak to the dogs and Sovilla with and without pebbles.

  He also made use of all his sleepless nights. To let Sovilla rest, he paced the floor with his colicky daughter and recited Scripture verses aloud.

  Although he missed Sovilla’s encouragement each time he read a verse without errors, the nighttime cuddling allowed him to forge a special bond with his little girl. And putting her to sleep to the rhythm and beauty of God’s word was a special blessing.

  If only he could carry this peacefulness, this closeness, this calmness into the service. But as each day passed, the tension inside increased. And on Sunday morning, when the ministers met before the service, the delicious breakfast he’d choked down earlier curdled in his stomach.

  By the time he stood before the congregation, his mouth had dried and no amount of swallowing seemed to wet it. He croaked out the first few words, almost too low for anyone to hear. Then Sovilla’s smile buoyed him and reminded him to trust a Higher Power.

  Clearing his throat, he started again. He stumbled several times, but people were listening to God’s Word and not to his delivery. Mercifully, it was soon over, and Isaac could listen to the sermons and relax . . . at least until two Sundays from now.

  * * *

  Two Sundays later, Sovilla sat on the edge of her seat, holding their sleeping daughter and whispering prayers for God’s blessing on her beloved husband before he gave the first, shorter sermon. Isaac had agonized over the past two weeks, because the ministers never decided the sermon topics until Sunday morning before the service.

  Several times he broke off from practicing his speech exercises to pepper her with questions: “What if my mind goes blank and I can’t think of anything to say?” “What if my mouth goes dry again and I can’t get words out?” “What if I start stuttering?”

  To each question, Sovilla answered calmly, “Trust the Lord.”

  Now, as Isaac emerged with the other ministers, her heart was so in tune with his, every cell in Sovilla’s body absorbed her husband’s nervousness. As if sensing her anxiety, the baby whined. Sovilla needed to heed the advice she’d given Isaac. Cradling her sweet little daughter close, Sovilla prayed.

  Please, Lord, calm both our nerves and give Isaac the words to say.

  Isaac stood up front, appearing calm on the outside. But Sovilla knew him well enough to note his clenched fists and jaw, the small frown lines that formed between his brows when he faced a problem. And she prayed God’s blessing on him.

  He opened his mouth, but no words came out. She took a deep breath in unison with him.

  Lord, please let sounds, I mean words, come out.

  An explosive noise burst from Isaac’s lips, and his cheeks reddened. Staring down at the floor, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Inhaling again, he restarted. He stuttered through the first few words. Finally, he managed a phrase, drew in some air, and completed another. Soon, he established a rhythm. Breath. Phrase. Breath. Phrase. After several sentences, he paused, as if thinking of his next point. Then he returned to his previous pattern.

  By the time the sermon ended, Sovilla was as emotionally exhausted and drained as Isaac. She’d inhaled and exhaled every time he did and had stayed connected with him for every word. Now she channeled his relief.

  Throughout, he’d glanced up from the floor to fixate on a spot on the far wall, but now he sneaked a look in her direction. She tried to convey how meaningful his message had been and—though she should temper it—her pride in his accomplishment.

  The stress lines on his face smoothed, and he stroked his beard. The beard that meant he was married—to her. The beard that always set her heart on fire.

  * * *

  On the way home, Sovilla turned to him. “You did so well up there.” Her bright smile and the lovelight shining in her eyes started his heart thumping.

  He wanted to take her in his arms, but that would have to wait until they got home. For now, he waved away her praise. “I wish my speech wasn’t so jerky
.”

  “That’ll come in time. What’s most important is the lesson you taught.”

  As usual, Sovilla focused his attention off himself and his self-criticism. “God gave me the ideas. I couldn’t have done it without Him.”

  “You listened well.”

  But what about next time? Today he’d only done the first, much shorter talk. In two weeks, he’d face his biggest hurdle—the one-hour sermon.

  “You’re thinking about the long sermon, aren’t you?” As she always did, Sovilla had guessed what worried him.

  “Jah. I wish we knew ahead of time what the topic will be.” Deciding on the sermon topic with the other ministers before each service gave him no time to prepare.

  “Trust God for the message.”

  Her familiar reminder calmed him. The purpose of not planning ahead was to be open to the Lord’s leading. “Danke, Sovilla.”

  * * *

  But when Isaac woke on the day of the service, anxiety gripped him. He reminded himself he’d made it through the first two services. His presentations had not been stellar, but he’d brought God’s message to the congregation. He needed to do the same with this longer sermon.

  Lord, help me to listen to You rather than my fears.

  Sovilla stopped to hug him as she hurried toward the crying baby. “I’ll be praying. You can do this.”

  After she’d fed the baby and him, they cleaned up the kitchen together and prepared for church, which they’d host today. Sovilla, Barbie, and the girls had been working nonstop for the past two weeks, cleaning and baking. They’d left the house spotless and prepared for the after-church meal.

  Next door, in the house they’d built onto Wilma’s for Sovilla’s mamm and sisters, loud laughter resounded through the walls.

  “What’s going on over there?” Isaac asked his wife.

  Sovilla only smiled mysteriously as she pinned on her kapp. “You’ll see.”

  See what? Isaac soon forgot his question as the time for the service neared.

  A short while later, Sovilla’s sisters breezed in, chattering away. Martha Mae leaned close to Sovilla and whispered, “Does he know?”

  Pressing a finger to her lips, Sovilla shook her head.

  What secrets were they hiding? Too nervous to ask, Isaac pushed it from his mind. He’d ask after church.

  As the men gathered in the barn, Isaac stood apart, praying God would calm his jitters and speak to his heart. After he met with the ministers and bishop to decide the sermon topics, they filed into the living room, where the benches had been set up, and the room around Isaac dissolved into the cloud of worry enveloping him. How would he ever speak on this topic for a whole hour?

  Head down, he focused on his clenched hands and begged God for a message.

  When his turn to speak came, he stood in front of the congregation, trying to project an air of confidence and surety, but he had no words, no ideas.

  He searched the women’s section for Sovilla, hoping her loving face would give him some strength and start his words flowing. Instead, he stared in shock at the elderly woman next to Sovilla.

  Mrs. Vandenberg?

  She smiled at him, her eyes filled with reassurance. Wilma sat beside her. And Annie. His eyes strayed to the other side of the room. Eli. David. Lloyd and his sons, all of them sitting stiffly and looking uncomfortable. Even Jeremiah, the young man in a wheelchair who now had Snickers as his service dog.

  When? How?

  Sovilla must have arranged all this. His gaze swung to her, and her encouraging smile reminded him he should be speaking.

  His face burning, Isaac struggled to remember his topic for the day. He’d been standing here gawking like a fool while everyone in the congregation waited for him to begin.

  With another quick petition heavenward, he took a deep breath. God had surrounded him with the love and support of friends and family members. He would speak to them about humility by being honest about his own failings. And about gelassenheit, submission to God’s will, by yielding to the Lord now and letting Him take over the sermon.

  Once he surrendered, Isaac no longer needed Demosthenes or speech therapy techniques. He had the energy and power of the Living God, the Creator of all. He only had to connect with that Source and share God’s message with the people gathered here in His name.

  Isaac stepped aside and let the heavenly presence flow through him. The Holy Spirit empowered him, filling him with God’s love. When he opened his mouth, words flowed from his lips, connecting heart to heart.

  When he finished, Isaac bowed his head in silent thanksgiving. He’d learned the secret of preaching without stuttering—complete surrender to the Lord.

  * * *

  Several hours later, after the church members had left following the meal, family and friends gathered in the kitchen. Sovilla put the baby down for her nap and then came to stand beside Isaac.

  Wilma had tears in her eyes as she ran her hand over the huge maple table that now replaced the rickety metal one she’d used. “You’ve done such a wonderful job fixing up the house. Who would have ever thought my house would hold a church service? Or that you’d be a minister?”

  “I’m not at all surprised.” Mrs. Vandenberg tapped her cane on the floor for emphasis. “I always believed Isaac had messages he needed to share with the world.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.” Isaac never would have come across Demosthenes on his own.

  She waved a hand as if to brush off his comment. “Not me—Divine Guidance. And credit goes to you for your persistence. And to God, of course.”

  “Without Him, I’d never have been able to preach.” Isaac acknowledged the truth.

  Sovilla sidled up to him. “You worked hard, and God rewarded your faithfulness.”

  Lowering his voice so only she could hear, he murmured, “You’re one of my greatest rewards.”

  Jeremiah wheeled closer. “The van will be coming for me soon, but today’s message meant so much to me. I can’t thank you enough.”

  Isaac shook Jeremiah’s outstretched hand. “I’m glad you could be here.”

  Snickers whined, and Isaac stared down at the dog he’d spent so much time bonding with. It had been hard to turn Snickers over to the trainers, but knowing she’d be assisting Jeremiah helped Isaac cope. “Can I pet her?”

  Jeremiah smiled at Snickers. “She’s such a good dog, she deserves a little time off. Go ahead.”

  Isaac knelt beside Snickers. Oh, how he missed his little companion! But knowing that Snickers had a good home and the chance to help Jeremiah made up for his loss.

  Although Isaac still went down to the kennels to take care of the dogs, he hadn’t trained another puppy since. His priority these past few years had been Sovilla and then their baby daughter. Working at the market and taking care of all the puppies in the kennel took a lot of time, but now he had his wife’s assistance. Soon, though, he and Sovilla, would again become puppy raisers for one special dog.

  Heavy footfalls clomped across the kitchen linoleum. Lloyd towered over Isaac, a scowl on his face. Isaac wanted to stand, to puff out his chest, and counteract Lloyd’s blustering.

  Because he’d just spoken about humility, though, Isaac remained where he was. Surely Isaac could follow the Lord’s example. The Savior had bent to wash his disciples’ feet. To ease some of his tension, Isaac buried his fingers in Snickers’s soft fur.

  Annie rushed over and set a hand on Lloyd’s arm, but he shook it off.

  “I don’t appreciate you singling me out with your sermon,” Lloyd thundered.

  Isaac had spoken more to himself than to the congregation. And he certainly hadn’t directed his words to Sovilla’s onkel.

  Annie interrupted her husband before he could say more. “That wasn’t Isaac speaking to you. It was God. Perhaps it’s time you listened.”

  Lloyd stared at his wife. Then the hardness and anger in his face turned to woundedness, and his eyes filled with the pain of betrayal. Pivo
ting, he stalked off, his sons trailing in his wake. The front door slammed behind them.

  “I’m sorry, Isaac.” Annie wrung her hands. “Lloyd and the boys have come a long way, but they all needed your message today.”

  “Not my message.” Isaac had only been the vessel. He still marveled that God had chosen the one person in the church who stuttered to do this job.

  Annie’s eyes filled with tears. “At least I know Lloyd listened to the sermon today. Maybe the boys did too. I’m trusting God to keep working in their hearts.”

  “We’ll be praying.” Sovilla’s heart-stopping smile made Isaac want to wrap her in an embrace. And he would as soon as they were alone.

  An hour later, Lloyd returned. “The driver’s here. It’s time for us to go.”

  After many hugs and tears, they all headed to the front door, with promises to visit again soon.

  As Lloyd reached the porch, he turned. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled in a gruff voice, “for everything.” He included Sovilla and Isaac along with Barbie and the girls in his glance. Then he looked at Wilma and lowered his head. “And to you too.”

  It wasn’t much of an apology, but for Lloyd, it had been a huge concession. Isaac stood there, dumbfounded. Had the sermon truly touched Lloyd’s heart?

  “Don’t worry,” Mrs. Vandenberg assured them as the van left for Ohio. “That’s only the beginning of the changes God has in store for him.”

  Isaac had no doubt she was right. She’d foreseen his need for speech lessons years ago. Mrs. Vandenberg seemed to have a direct connection to God.

  Her car glided up to the curb, and they waved her off, certain they’d see her soon. She visited them often and loved to help care for the baby sometimes while he and Sovilla worked at the market, taking turns helping at the auction and the pickle/bakery stand. Wilma had even shared her recipe with Sovilla’s mamm.

  Jeremiah’s van pulled up as Mrs. Vandenberg’s Bentley drove off, and Isaac said another reluctant goodbye.

  “Come and visit Snickers anytime,” Jeremiah said. “She’d be glad for the company, and so would I.”