A Wedding Quilt for Ella (10 page)

So she had been right this morning.
Death should be observed with awfulness and dark clouds. The rise of the sun had been an insult, after all. Does God, who cares so much about His own Son, not care about Albert and Lydian’s son?
Ella glanced out the living room window at the open clear sky.
What does God think of my bold question being tossed into His face?
But what He thought really didn’t matter. The pain was simply too much to ignore.

Why? Why doesn’t God care about Aden? Certainly He can hear my question. He is God, after all. Will He strike me down for thinking such a thing? Will He take me as He has taken Aden? If so, at least then I’ll be with Aden.

Ella’s eyes were drawn to the wooden box between her and the bishop, who at that moment had stopped to pull a big blue handkerchief out of his trousers. He unfolded it with a shake and blew his nose with both hands.

“Da Hah
will have mercy on all of us,” he said and sat down.

The next speaker was a relative of Aden’s, his older sister’s husband. He stood with his hands clasped for a long time, his head bowed, before he started speaking.

“I know of many times,” he said, “when Aden did many good things for others. In my mind the actions reflect on the kind of man Aden was. I myself was a recipient of Aden’s kindness when he lent me money, a fairly large sum, a year ago when we had an emergency on our farm. Two of my best cows died in one week, and I needed funds to purchase replacements.

“I paid back the money I borrowed from Aden last week, and he didn’t want interest on the money. He hadn’t even once complained about the amount of time I took to repay. I almost thought Aden might have forgotten about the money if I hadn’t brought the matter up.

“Then there was the time when Aden was still a young boy. I had been seeing Aden’s sister, my wife now, and I forget exactly why, but Aden drove me home with his own horse and buggy. Once we set out, Aden’s horse became lame from a stone it had picked up. We both got out, and Aden removed the stone from the hoof, but the horse still limped.

“Instead of riding the rest of the way back to his place where a new horse could be obtained, Aden insisted we walk the next two miles home. Aden led the horse by the bridle all the way. I told Aden this wasn’t necessary and that the buggy wouldn’t pull much harder with the two of us in it. But nothing could persuade Aden. The horse had to be favored. I know from experience that few young boys would have taken such kind actions.”

He paused, produced his large handkerchief, and wiped his eyes before retaking his seat and allowing silence to settle over the room.

Ella had never heard either of these stories and had listened carefully, the desire to know more about Aden strong in her heart.

Preacher Stutzman slowly got to his feet. He let his eyes sweep the room for the longest time, his hands loosely at his side. Finally, he took a deep breath and then launched out with a great roar in his voice.

“Gready beloved, I greet you in the name of the dear Lord, Jesus Christ. I fear that I do not have good tidings for you this morning but rather warnings from
Da Hah.
We must fear today…and fear it greatly. We must fear for our own souls and for our bodies. Dearly beloved, we must take great warning by this, the death of our brother. Much has been said about the good life he has lived, and this is all the truth as I can bear witness myself. Yah, it is so. Yet did not the Lord come for him in a sudden and dreadful way? We must then stand greatly warned. If this can happen to a good man, to one we can have good hope of a better life in eternity, can it not happen to any of us?

“Yah, it can.” Stutzman answered his own question, his hands now held high, his pacing begun in front of the casket. “We must not be doubtful about this. This good man’s death is a warning from
Da Hah
Himself. This is a wakeup call to all of us here that we repent of our sins and turn to
Da Hah
and to the church for help. There are those amongst us—perhaps some of our young people—who are playing with the temptations of the world. There are those who are living in secret lives of disobedience. There are those who are in transgression of the laws of
Da Hah
and of the voice of the church. To them this is, and let it forever be, a great and terrible warning of what is to come. Death can arrive in an instant. It could take us by the hand and usher us into eternity before we know what is happening. I ask you young people, have you been preparing yourselves? How about you older people, married and unmarried, have you been preparing?

“The Good Book says to seek your God while there is yet time. Seek your Creator in your youth because you know not when the evil day comes—as it has come for our brother. The day of calamity comes as it has come today.”

Ella didn’t even look at his face.
What in the world is he going to say about my earlier questions and how I threw angry words at God?
She held her hands tightly together.
Is he going to see me shaking? Does he already know what my thoughts are?
Only a few feet away, he strode past, his broad pants loose around his waist, his suspenders doubled up on the back on one button, his black dress shoes dull and unpolished.
Is God like him?
Ella wondered.

“The Word of God says,” Preacher Stutzman said with his voice filling the room, “that the day of the Lord will come as a day of wrath, as a day of trouble and distress, as a day of waste and a day of desolation, as a day of darkness and gloominess, as a day of clouds and of much thick darkness.”

His voice boomed out the German words,
“Zum Tag.
..Today if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts.”

For the next hour, Preacher Stutzman paced and lectured those assembled. Ella knew she heard Bishop Mast clear his throat once quite loudly. Perhaps he wanted to add to the tirade?

Then the sermon stopped as quickly as it began, and the long line of mourners began to file past the casket. Those from the service in the barn came in first, and then those in the house got to their feet. The family came last, and they stood together and walked forward. Ella stood with Albert and Lydian at the head of the wooden box. She forced herself to look, seeing him for one last time. But the man in the box no longer looked like Aden at all. Last night in the bedroom, with the kerosene lamp light on his face, she could imagine him as he used to be. Now he was stark, cold, and simply gone. She pulled her eyes away.

When Albert and Lydian moved on, she followed them. The crowd parted before them. Ella saw several people glance at her. Likely they wondered why she had no tears. They had been cried last night. She had said her goodbye then. Let them think what they wanted to. They had not lost their beloved.

They made their way to the yard, and then Ella rode to the cemetery with her own parents and three younger sisters. Somewhere behind them, Eli and Monroe had Clara and Dora with them. The long procession of buggies moved slowly toward the cemetery. At the state road, time was taken up in the crossing. Each buggy waited in turn until traffic was clear to cross over.

“Looks like quite a storm’s building over the mountains,” her daett said from the front seat.

Ella leaned out of the buggy door to see. It did look like a storm but why now? They almost had him buried. Why not earlier?

“It’s just come up,” her daett said. “I hope it gives us time for the burial before the rain starts.”

When her dad parked, Ella got out of the buggy, helped her sisters down, and then took another look toward the western mountains. The storm did look ominous. Stiff winds off the lake drove the great stacks of black clouds.

Ella walked across the little graveyard, moving forward to stand beside Albert and Lydian by the graveside. The casket was set on small benches, and, again, the lines formed and viewed the body. Bishop Mast read a prayer, a great swelling of German words written to express the agony of the human heart that had suffered unspeakable grief yet still worships his God. Then slowly they lowered the coffin into the ground.

As Ella watched, they started throwing in the dirt. Gentle shovelfuls of dirt thudded against the wooden casket. The sound gradually became the soft sound of dirt thrown upon dirt. The mound grew slowly higher.

Ella glanced over her shoulder at the storm clouds, which were ready to break. The winds came first, great blasts that tore green leaves from the trees and drove them across the graveyard. Then the rain came, lashing them with an intense fury. Yet no one ran for shelter. They waited until the shovels ceased their work, little rivulets of water forming and running off of the now completed mound.

At last the mourners began slowly walking back to their buggies. Ella, however, stayed by the graveside, her head lifted toward heaven. The cold rain streaked down her face.
So this is what it feels like when God cares.

Long moments later, Mamm pulled at her arm and whispered, “It’s time to go.”

Twelve

D
aett pulled to a stop at the main highway and glanced each way before he crossed.

“Hard to see anything,” he muttered. “S’pose the
Englisha
drive slower in this weather. You just never know, though.”

“I’m glad it’s raining,” Ella said from the backseat. She so wanted to be on her way home, but instead they must go back one more time to the Wengerd’s place.

“Why would you like the rain?” Ruth, who sat beside her older sister, asked. “I’m all wet from it.”

“Because I think
Da Hah
must be sad,” Ella said, “and I’m glad He’s sad with us.”

“I’m sad too,” Ruth said. “Burying somebody in the ground is sad.”

Ella pulled Ruth toward her in a tight hug. “We’re all sad today.”

“I’m sad too,” five-year-old Ada spoke up. “Is Aden gone for always?”

Ella gave her a hug with her other arm and nodded.

“Do I have to die too?” Ada asked.

Mamm turned around in the front seat. The rain lashed against the vinyl sides of the buggy as Mamm said, “Everyone dies, Ada, sometime. It happens when
Da Hah
decides, but you’ll not care then. You’ll be in a much better place—up in heaven.”

“Is that where Aden’s gone to?” Ada asked.

“Yah,” Mamm said, “and someday in heaven you’ll see him again.”

“I don’t want to go there to see him,” Ada said, finality in her voice. “Aden was a nice man. He should still be
here.”

Ella tightened her arm around her sister as she said, “You shouldn’t think about this now. You need to grow up first.”

“I don’t want to grow up,” Ada said, leaning against Ella. “Aden was all grown up. That’s when he died.”

“Most people stay big,” Ruth said. “Look at Mamm and Daett. They’re big, and they’re not dead.”

“You’ll get big someday,” Ella said. “You’ll be marrying a boy then and have a whole house full of children.”

“I just want to go to school,” Ada said. “Is that big enough to be buried?”

Mamm and Ella traded smiles over Ada’s sweet innocence. For Ella, the smile felt welcome. Was she healing already?

The buggy turned down Young’s Road and then south to the Wengerd place. Ella and Mamm got out in the pouring rain and dashed inside with the younger girls while Daett went to tie the horse. Thankfully her dad didn’t intend to unhitch, which meant he didn’t plan to stay far into the afternoon after the noon meal. Oh, to be home now, safe in her own room, surrounded by all that was so familiar.

Inside, the line of people moved past the kitchen table. Soup, casserole, potato salad, and cake were being dished out. Ella and Mamm took their plates. Ruth and Ada held their own plates, but Mamm held on to one side of Martha’s, the young girl’s chubby fingers clutching the other side.

Behind each dish, a girl stood, measuring out the quantity of food by their own judgment or by whispered instructions.

“Just a little bit,” Ella whispered to each girl. She really wanted nothing but knew she must try.

“I’m so sorry about Aden,” several of the girls whispered their sympathies as they nodded at her instructions.

“Thanks,” Ella whispered back. They were girls of her own age, all of them with boyfriends of their own. It was easy to read the compassion on their faces and feel their hearts reaching out to her.

They found a bench that was open or had been vacated for them in the crowded kitchen by someone who saw them coming. Martha got on her knees and used the bench as her table. They all ate slowly, surrounded by the mill of people.

Soon, with her plate empty, Ruth asked, “Can we go outside and play?”

Mamm shook her head. “It’s still raining.”

“We can run for the barn,” Ruth persisted.

“Nee,” Lizzie told her, “just be waiting inside.”

Ruth let her disappointment show on her face and then moved across the room to where some of her cousins stood obviously commiserating over a similar answer to the same question. Soon, though, they were lost in animated conversation.

Across the room Ella saw her brothers and Clara get up and slowly work their way outside. Behind them her daett talked with Albert, his empty plate on his knees. Hopefully, he would be ready to leave soon.

Someone slid into the space on the bench beside her, and Ella turned to see Lydian. The older woman took Ella’s arm and squeezed it gently.

“Ach, this has been such a sad day for you and for Albert and me,” she said.

Ella nodded.

“We were all so looking forward to having you in the family,” Lydian whispered. “You would have been a
gut
daughter to us, I know.”

“I won’t forget Aden—ever.”

“No, of course you won’t,” Lydian said, “but your life must go on. Yah, you must not weep too long or too much.”

Ella nodded and glanced away. Aden would always be the standard she held in front of her eyes. No other man would ever match him.

“Time goes on by, and the sorrows and troubles come and go,” Lydian continued. “We all have our share of them in one way or the other. I’m just sorry yours had to come this early and so hard, at that.”