An Uncommon Grace

by Serena B. Miller

  He pulled the single page out of the envelope and opened it.

  “Are you sure you want me to read this?” he asked.

  Bishop Weaver nodded.

  The letter was short and to the point.

  I am leaving home. Me and my new boyfriend are going far away. You will not be able to find me. Do not waste your time trying. I am sick of being Amish and I am going to break every commandment I can. My boyfriend has a car and money.

  Zillah

  P.S. Don’t worry about your grandchild. I’m not pregnant.

  Levi experienced many emotions reading the letter with the rain pounding down upon the workshop roof and a broken man sitting across from him.

  He felt his soul open up at the freedom he now had. Freedom to be exonerated. Freedom to be accepted back into the bosom of the church. Freedom to walk in and out of his mother’s home. Freedom to take Communion with the rest of the church with no cloud of suspicion hanging over his head.

  But his heart ached for the man rubbing the brim of his black hat between his fingers, staring at floorboards, ashamed to meet his eyes.

  He folded the letter and carefully fitted it back inside the envelope. Then he handed it back to the bishop.

  “It is not your fault,” Levi said, trying to comfort the grieving man. “It was never your fault.”

  “My wife and I will continue to pray for our daughter’s soul. We will not try to find her. She has made it clear that she will resist any efforts to bring her back. I am afraid that Satan has gotten a terrible hold of her. We will pray that she will someday realize what she has done and ask for forgiveness not only for running away, but for what she put you and our church through by accusing you.”

  “Which we will give,” Levi said.

  “Yes.” The bishop nodded. “Which we will always give—as God commanded.”

  Levi felt a great pity for the man before him, enough pity that he could honestly say, “I will pray daily that Zillah’s heart will change and that she will come back to you and to the Lord.”

  “I will put the word out that the Meidung has been lifted and announce it at meeting,” the bishop said. “I would be grateful if you could forgive me for believing my daughter over you.”

  “You are forgiven,” Levi said. “I know the position Zillah placed you in.”

  “Thank you, Levi.”

  There was nothing else to say. The discussion of crops or livestock illnesses would not be appropriate, not after the Hertza-laeht—the awful heartache that the letter had brought upon the bishop and his wife.

  As Levi watched the broken man leave, he had a strong suspicion that Ezra Weaver was going to be a much humbler and more compassionate bishop from this point on. The church would greatly benefit from that compassion. Then Levi put on his hat and walked across the driveway to have a long talk with his mother.

  The kitchen was warm and welcoming when he arrived. It smelled of good things baking in the wood cookstove. His mother was checking something in the oven when he came through the door. A worried frown creased her forehead.

  “What did the bishop want?”

  “Zillah ran off with someone and left a note saying that she’s not coming back. She also said that she had lied about being with child.”

  Claire’s face was exultant. “I knew it!”

  “I’m welcome back into the church. The bishop apologized. He is very sorry for not believing me.”

  She began pulling loaves of bread out of the oven and setting them on the table. “Then you will be able to go to meeting with us Sunday. That is wonderful.”

  He sat down at his mother’s table. “I am not going back this Sunday.”

  She dropped the last pan of bread on the table, shocked. “Why not?”

  “There are some things I want to do first.”

  “Like what?”

  “For one thing, I was thinking that you and the children might like to pay a visit to Rose and Henry while the bishop is still ashamed of what he did.”

  “It is forbidden.”

  “Yes, but wouldn’t it be nice if it were not?”

  The rain had once again subsided, but every day seemed to bring at least a small shower or two—just enough to keep the fields in quagmires. When the sun finally found its way back to them, Levi knew that every farmer in Holmes County would be out with his team from sunrise to sundown, trying to make up for lost time.

  He had woven a few baskets to add to the ones already stored in the workshop. On Wednesday, his mother packed up the children and all the baskets, adding several quarts of apple butter from her cellar, and drove the buggy to Mt. Hope to the livestock and produce auction. This was something they could do regardless of the weather. Beneath the roof of a giant barn near the auction, people bought and sold everything from live plants, to honey, to used kitchenware.

  When she returned, his mother told him that she and the children had set their baskets out beside the man selling bundles of rhubarb and waited.

  They came home with an empty buggy and money to support their family for several more weeks. Claire said that Daniel had been quite the center of attention as tourist women stopped to make a fuss over him—and ended up buying a basket and, in some instances, a quart or two of her good apple butter.

  In the meantime, Levi had been devouring the books Grace brought him, books on agriculture, solar energy, astronomy, hydroponics, greenhouses, ornithology, geometry, basic physics, and geography.

  For the first time in his life he had the freedom to feed his mind the knowledge it craved—and he feasted.

  But along with the new knowledge came a spiritual struggle. The time of forced isolation he had endured had ended up being a sort of sanctuary for his soul. He had prayed harder and thought more deeply than ever before, and what he was thinking both frightened and beckoned to him.

  He desperately wanted someone to talk to about what was on his mind, but it could not be his mother—not yet. She would become upset and defensive, afraid that she was going to lose her oldest son to the world. It could not be Grace. When he was around Grace, he did not have a clear head. The one person he knew that he could speak his heart to was the woman who had befriended him when he was still a young boy—Elizabeth.

  Although Angel Dancer would have loved the exercise, he chose not to ride her to the Connors’. He was afraid he would tear his still-tender shoulder while mounting or dismounting. Instead, he walked, hoping he would have a chance to talk to Elizabeth alone.

  Grace’s car was gone when he arrived, but Elizabeth was sitting on the back porch in her swing, reading her Bible, as he had seen her do so many times before. This was the place in her house that he liked the best. It had a panoramic view of their fields and made a comfortable place for two old friends to sit and visit. He remembered the hours they had spent here together when he was a child while she had told him stories and taught him much about the natural world from her books.

  If Elizabeth had been less sensitive to their culture, he would never have been allowed to come here. He had always been grateful to her for having overcome his mother and stepfather’s suspicions of allowing an Englisch person into his life.

  “Levi!” Her face lit up when she saw him. “You’re feeling better.”

  “Yes. You are looking stronger, also.”

  “Have you come to see Grace about something? I’m afraid she and Becky are gone.”

  “I’m glad they are not here.” He sat down in the swing beside her. “I would like to talk to you alone.”

  “Oh?” Elizabeth closed her Bible and folded her hands upon it. “What do you want to talk about, Levi?”

  It took courage for him to begin. It felt as though a piece of yarn from a sweater had come loose during his weeks of the Meidung. He feared that once he began to tug on it, it would start unraveling until the sweater was completely gone. This was a frightening thought because that particular sweater—although at times rather itchy—had provided a great deal of warmth to him over the year
s. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth and said the words he had come here to say, his whole life would come unraveled. But he spoke anyway.

  “I am thinking of leaving my church.”

  “Oh, dear.” Elizabeth heaved a great sigh. “Does this have anything to do with my granddaughter?”

  “No.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Are you retaliating against your church for shunning you?”

  “No. This is between God and me alone.”

  “Then what did you want to ask me?”

  “Do you think I will go to hell if I leave the Swartzentruber church?”

  Elizabeth acted startled by his question. “Well, of course not!”

  “How do you know that for sure?”

  “I’ve never interfered with your beliefs in any way, Levi.” Elizabeth seemed troubled. “Are you certain you want to know what I think?”

  “Very much so.”

  “You’re really sure you want to hear this?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Well, then.” Elizabeth gazed out over the fields. “I’ve sat here on my porch and watched you and Abraham plow your land for many years. I’ve always enjoyed that—the image of a good farmer caring for the earth God had given him. But it has also saddened me.”

  He thought this was an odd way to answer his question about whether or not he was going to hell. “In what way were you saddened by watching us tend our fields?”

  “Four enormous horses pulling one plow, right?”

  “Our Belgians are large. Yes.”

  “I’ve watched you rest your horses beneath the shade of that tree where you sometimes eat your lunch. I’ve seen you check their harnesses to make certain nothing was rubbing or hurting them in any way. I’ve admired how you check their hooves and pry stones out long before they could become lame. Sometimes I’ve even heard you talking to them. I couldn’t understand the words you used, but your voice sounded soothing, as though you truly cared about them.”

  “That is what a farmer does.” Levi wondered what she was getting at. “A good farmer takes care of his animals.”

  “And when you get them back to the barn, I’m guessing that you feed them with the best that you have.”

  “I try to take good care of my horses.”

  “Apart from their earthly financial value, Levi, why do you take such pains with them?”

  “Because they are my responsibility . . . and I care about them.”

  She nodded, as though that was the answer she had expected. “So—would you ever put a big, heavy yoke on one of those horses, hitch it to your biggest plow, weigh it down with boulders, stand on top of it, and whip the horse to make it pull?”

  “Never! You know me better than that.”

  “Every time I’ve watched you working your fields with your horses, one Scripture always leaps into my mind—Matthew 11:28–30. Are you familiar with it?”

  “No.”

  “Jesus understood exactly how hard this life was, what a struggle it would be to get through. In the scene I’m describing, He is talking to His followers—some of whom are no doubt exhausted by the heaviness of this life—and His heart is full of love for them. What He says to them is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful passages in the Bible.”

  Levi’s curiosity was definitely piqued. “And what is that?”

  “Jesus says, ‘Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.’”

  Levi felt not only his heart but even his body respond to the peace of that language. “That Scripture is very beautiful.”

  “Ah, but the very best is the Scripture that follows that one. It’s my favorite verse in the whole Bible. Do you want to hear it?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “‘For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.’”

  He drew a deep breath, absorbing and memorizing those words.

  “The Lord I read about is not cruel, Levi. He came specifically to help us carry our burden, not load us up with so many rules and regulations that we stagger beneath the load, always living in terror of breaking even one. When you truly understand this, everything changes—the yoke becomes so much easier, and the burden becomes so very light.”

  This was not a Scripture that had ever been emphasized in his Swartzentruber church. The idea of an easy burden and a light yoke was against everything he had ever been taught. He was surprised at how starved he felt for these words.

  “How?” he asked. “How does the burden become easy and light?”

  “Because instead of living your life constantly beneath the heavy weight of fear”—Elizabeth caressed the worn, leather binding of her Bible—“you find yourself serving out of sheer gratitude. A relationship built on acceptance, forgiveness, and love is an easy yoke to carry indeed.”

  “The yoke I have carried has been very heavy.”

  “I know, Levi. I’ve watched.”

  My yoke is easy and My burden is light.

  He savored these healing words. All those years of trying to be good enough. All those years of wondering if he were doing everything he could to keep from going to hell. All those years of not knowing if he would ever manage to make it to heaven.

  My yoke is easy and My burden is light.

  Those nine words were like a drink of cold, pure water after a day spent haying in a hot field. Those nine words cooled his feverish soul. His heart told him that God had never, ever meant for him to be that poor horse wearing a heavy yoke, pulling a plow with boulders piled on it, being whipped for not pulling harder.

  Elizabeth was right. If Jesus had been a farmer, He would be the kind of farmer who would give His horses a good feed when they were hungry and cool water when they were thirsty, and let them rest beneath the shade of a tree when they were tired.

  Levi had not cried since the first whipping that Abraham had given him after Abraham married Levi’s mother. He had disciplined himself to shove the need to cry deep inside. But now, he broke down and wept.

  Elizabeth sat very still, saying nothing, keeping him company while he grieved.

  He heard Grace’s car pull in. This was one time he did not want to see her—not with his eyes red from weeping.

  “I should go.” He stood to leave.

  “I’m not going to speak of this conversation with Grace,” Elizabeth said. “That is your choice—when you have decided for sure what you want to do.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you still trying to work your way through your stepfather’s German Bible?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I am.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “And how is that going for you?”

  “A little better with practice, but it is still difficult.”

  She handed him the Bible she had been reading when he had arrived. “This is written in everyday English. Read it yourself. Come to your own conclusions about whether or not God is going to reject you if you aren’t Swartzentruber. You are not ten years old anymore. Your stepfather can’t burn your book this time.”

  Levi took the volume into his hands. It was thick and well thumbed. “But this is yours.”

  “I have at least five others lying about,” Elizabeth said. “Now go.”

  “I will treasure this, my friend.”

  “I’d rather you wear it out from use.”

  Elizabeth had never hugged him, but this time she did—and he needed it. He felt as if he were setting out on a long journey as he departed through the back way, holding a forbidden English translation of the Bible.

  The very fact that it was forbidden would make the reading of it all the sweeter.

  chapter THIRTY-ONE

  “I’m truly happy for Levi,” Grace said as she sprinkled some lettuce seed inside the depression she had made in the earth. The rains had washed away the lettuce bed she had created earlier in the spring, and they were replanting. “Honest, I am. He
loves his people. Being shunned was a terrible thing for him. Now he’s able to be a part of the life he’s always known again. That’s the way it should be.”

  “I’m happy for him, too,” Elizabeth said. “You’re sprinkling those seeds a little thick, don’t you think? They like enough space to breathe.”

  Grace was doing her best to be excited about Levi’s exoneration. Now that he had been welcomed back into the Swartzentruber community with open arms, she rarely saw him—which she knew was how it should be.

  “Have you talked with him lately?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No. Now that both he and Claire are well, I don’t have any reason to go over there. I haven’t seen him since he dropped off those library books a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Did he ask you to get him more?”

  “No. He said he wouldn’t need for me to get him any more—from now on.”

  “Ah,” Elizabeth said. “Then he has gone back to his church completely. I had wondered if he would.”

  “I think he’s probably sworn off ever being around Englisch women ever again,” Grace said. “He probably got a belly full of us considering what our family put him through.”

  “You know, I’m actually looking forward to the auction we’re having next week.” Elizabeth deliberately turned the subject away from Levi, and Grace was grateful. Talking about Levi was hard for her. She would rather think about something else entirely.

  “Are you sure? I’d think it would be sad to see so many memories being sold.”

  “Perhaps, but they are my memories, not yours. I don’t want the two of you having to make a lot of decisions about what to keep and what to give away one day when I’m gone. Plus, I wouldn’t mind doing some traveling again. Want to float down the Nile with me come autumn?”

  “How about we visit Niagara Falls or the Grand Canyon instead? I like the idea of staying within the United States. I think I’ve seen enough of the world for a while.”

  “You are no fun at all, Grace,” Elizabeth teased. “Are you certain you don’t want to float down the Nile with me while exotic men feed us grapes?”