Holding a Tender Heart (23 page)

T
he following morning Bishop Beiler sat in his rocker as the early sunlight flooded into the living room. The words in his open Bible ran together as his thoughts wandered. It wasn't a pleasant task that lay before him. Even after much thought, something about Henry's attitude was still troublesome. This situation seemed like more than the normal rebellious streak that often seized an erring member and lasted for a short season. This might turn into more of a difficult case than what it already was. Perhaps he should back down from his threat of a knee confession. Such extreme humiliation on the part of a member in front of the whole church was always an unfortunate occasion and disliked by everyone. Henry considered himself a man of moderate esteem in the community, and such an action would affect him deeply.

That was the problem with men who thought themselves better than others, Bishop Beiler told himself. He rocked while he considered the matter.
Nee
, Henry had been warned. And the bishop had already taken a risk when he'd suggested and the ministers had agreed to involve the
Englisha
neighbor the last time they'd dealt with this. Henry had been given his chance, and he'd chosen to go around the barriers set up for his own protection. There was no
option but to proceed as planned. The bishop focused on the page in front of him, but he glanced up when Verna tiptoed in.

“Do you have a moment,
Daett
?”

He closed his Bible at once. “Why, of course, Verna. For my eldest daughter, I will always take the time.”

Verna shifted nervously on her feet, and he motioned for her to sit. He figured he already knew what the problem was. Verna's dark countenance had hung over the house all morning again, even with her best efforts to hide it. She likely knew by now the reason for his trip to Henry's place yesterday. Her worry that Joe Weaver would never come back had increased, he was sure.

Verna made no attempt to hide her concern. “Will Henry Yoder be under discipline again?”

Bishop Beiler cleared his throat. “I went to visit him yesterday, but beyond that it might be best if church matters were not discussed at home. Let me assure you, though, that Joe's name was not mentioned.”

“So this time it has nothing to do with him?” Verna's face brightened considerably.

Bishop Beiler nodded. “This time Joe is out of it.”

“And you are sure?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.

Bishop Beiler was silent. The way she asked the question made him hesitate. Did he know everything? Maybe Henry had more tricks up his sleeve and hadn't revealed them ahead of time.

“I believe so, Verna,” he finally said.

She struggled to keep the look of despair off her face. “I hope so because I do so miss him,
Daett
.”

You haven't even dated him that long,
he wanted to say…but he didn't. His daughter's heart had obviously settled on the boy. It would be best if he refrained from negative comments. She could do much worse, he supposed. “Perhaps Joe will come back soon,” he said. He touched her hand and spoke with great tenderness. “
Da Hah
's work must be done, Verna. Let us pray that Joe will not see things in the wrong way, shall we?”

Verna nodded and bowed her head as her
daett
prayed. A moment after his “Amen,” she was gone.

Bishop Beiler sighed. This was too much for one man. He shouldn't have to lead the church and raise a family at the same time. The lot of bishop should only fall on old men whose children were solidly in the faith and safely married. Was that not the scriptural recommendation on the matter? And yet these were wishful thoughts. Since the days of bitter persecution endured in Switzerland, the members of the faith had decided that a martyred minister must be replaced immediately. And most of the movement's adherents in those days were young. There had been no other option, and now tradition had settled in.
Da Hah
chose whom He willed, and He gave the man the grace to carry the load. Somewhere there was aid for him, he decided—if he would only believe.

He tried to focus again. He stared at his Bible as the bustle of the house continued around him. All he could see, though, was the smiling face of Henry Yoder as he stood outside his barn yesterday. Against that backdrop lay the upcoming ministers' meeting at Cousin Benny's place.

“Isn't it time you get ready for the services?”

Saloma's voice made him jump. “
Yah
, it is.” He laid his Bible aside. “The time was getting away from me.”

“The girls have already gone,” she told him. “We must not be late.”

The house had grown quiet but he hadn't noticed. He rushed to change into his Sunday clothing. He'd harnessed Milo when he did morning chores, so the horse was ready and waiting inside his stall. They wouldn't be late.

“I'll have the horse up in a minute,” he muttered after he came out of the bedroom. He grabbed his black felt hat and sprinted out the door.

Saloma was waiting for him beside the buggy when he came out of the barn with Milo. She held up the shafts, and they had Milo's harness attached in minutes. Saloma climbed into the buggy. He
threw his wife the lines and climbed in himself. The bishop took the reins and hollered, “Get up!” Milo twitched his ears and took off with a leap. Soon he settled into a steady trot. Around them, others joined in, making a procession all headed to the same place.

“Debbie's sure a blessing at the house,” Saloma ventured. “She's so taken with our way of life. She loves the place, and her words to Lois are like those of
Da Hah
speaking right through her.”

The bishop listened as he drove. Saloma probably thought he needed encouragement this morning, what with his spirits so low over Henry Yoder's case.

“She baked her first loaf of bread Saturday,” Saloma continued. “With Lois helping her, of course.”

“That's
gut
.”

“She's touching Lois's heart deeply. I don't know what we'd do without her.”

“
Yah
. I was thinking on that the other morning. I keep forgetting the
gut
things we do have—what with Verna's sorrow hanging over us. Did you hear her speak with me this morning? I'm afraid I had nothing wise to share with her.”

“We can only pray.” Saloma's hand found his and squeezed. She didn't do that often anymore, but they were not too old for love. That he also forgot sometimes. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't kissed her in a long time.

“What are you thinking, Adam?” she asked teasingly.

He noticed her eyes were twinkling when he glanced at her. Saloma knew
gut
and well what he was thinking. And she was pleased to have distracted him from his worries. But it would not do to pull into the meeting place while he was thinking of kisses—even if they were with his own
frau
.

“You're sweet!” he told her. “And you know what I'm thinking.”

She squeezed his arm as they turned into Benny Beiler's lane. He pulled to a stop at the end of the walk.

“You look handsome this morning,” she said as she climbed out of the buggy. She paused to send an adoring look up at him.

Pretty soon he would blush like a young bridegroom, he thought. But she did know what needed saying to lighten his load. He sobered as he pulled forward and came to a stop beside the line of buggies. Several of the younger boys ran up to help him unhitch.

“
Gut
morning, Bishop,” they sang out, their cheeks rosy.

“Have you been playing in the barn and falling down the haymow?” he teased.

“Oh,
nee
!” Their faces were horror stricken. “
Daett
won't let us play anywhere on Sunday mornings except behind the buggies. We might tear our clothing.”

“I think that's a
gut
idea,” Bishop Beiler told them as he led Milo forward while two boys held the buggy shafts. They lowered them to the ground with a flourish.
They are the hope of the church
, the bishop thought as he led Milo away. This was the young blood that grew up right under the adults' noses. And often the boys didn't receive the notice and thanks they deserved. He was glad they felt comfortable enough to help him unhitch. And they had even called him bishop! Perhaps he wasn't doing everything wrong as he clutched at the helm of the church. He led Milo into the barn.

After tying the horse among the other ones, the bishop went outside and greeted the line of men gathered beside the barn. He shook their hands and said, “
Gut
morning.” He made sure Henry Yoder got an extra hearty handshake. At the end of the line he took his place and pulled his pocket watch out. There were still a few minutes before it was time for the morning's trek inside. Saloma had been correct when she hurried him along though. A bishop who arrived late for the service was not setting a
gut
example.

Beside him Minister Graber asked in his high-pitched voice, “How's your first cutting of hay coming along?”

“Didn't dare try it last week.” Bishop Beiler chuckled. “‘Rain's threatening,' I thought, and Emery agreed. Don't tell me yours is in.”

Minister Graber tucked his overflowing stomach inside his britches. “I'm afraid so. Though it did catch a shower right after the cutting, but we should be okay.”

Minister Kanagy leaned forward with a grin. “Next time check the barometer before you cut hay. She was a-goin' down last week.”

They all laughed. Minister Graber's aversion to the commonly used barometers was well known. He declared his nose a better indicator of weather than that
Englisha
invention.

Bishop Beiler pulled out his watch again. “Well, we'd best be going on in.”

The others nodded and followed him at a slow walk toward the house. Behind him the men fell in line by age. They jostled playfully when things got mixed up. The mood was
gut
this morning, Bishop Beiler thought. Henry Yoder must not have run his mouth yet. Maybe he hoped if he kept a low profile the matter would blow over.

He forced his thoughts back to the present and took a detour through the kitchen. There he shook a few of the women's hands. The other ministers followed his example, but the other men and the boys had split off and gone into the living room. By the time the bishop took his place up front, the benches on the male side were full.

The women soon filed in, followed by the unmarried girls, and then the younger girls. When everyone was seated, the first song number was hollered out. Bishop Beiler stood at the first note and led the ministers upstairs. Now that the moment had arrived, his thoughts weren't quite as dark. Perhaps
Da Hah
was already giving His grace to bear the duty of the moment.

He opened the first bedroom door he came to and found a row of chairs set up. The others sat down when he took his place. Deacon Mast closed the door with a soft click, and Bishop Beiler cleared his throat. “
Gut
morning again.
Da Hah
has given us a fresh day in which His work can be done. We must remember to always give thanks for the gifts from His hand. So why don't we pray first?”

They bowed their heads as he led out, “Now unto You, most gracious heavenly Father, we give thanks. For Your goodness, for Your
grace, and for Your Son, Jesus Christ, who came to this earth as a child to die for our sins. Help us today, O Lord. Give us wisdom as we seek Your will. Enlighten our hearts with Your Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Bishop Beiler glanced around the room, but no one looked at him. The men kept their eyes focused on the floor. They must know he didn't have
gut
news to share, he thought. “I was over to Henry's place yesterday, and it didn't go that well, I'm afraid. Henry has purchased a new tractor—a brand-shiny-new one.”

“Surely he had the dealer change the tires?” Minister Kanagy said hopefully.

“
Yah
, Henry knows that much,” Minister Graber said and nodded his head.

Bishop Beiler sighed. “No, he didn't. Rhonda spotted him working in the fields with the rubber tires still on. He did have them changed when I got there, but he had them hidden under feed bags in his barn.”

“Now I've heard everything!” Deacon Mast exclaimed.

Minister Graber squeaked, “Has Henry admitted to this?”

Bishop Beiler nodded. “In so many words,
yah
.”

“I would still wish to speak with Henry myself,” Minister Graber said, shifting on his chair.

“That's fine with me,” Bishop Beiler told him. “I'm not planning to move too fast on this matter, but we can't leave it unattended either. If any of the others wish to make a visit over to Henry's place, by all means do so. Perhaps you can talk sense into his head. In the meantime, I told him I would settle for a knee confession and the tractor returned to the dealer. Henry doesn't need a nice new one that can use rubber tires with the problem he has.” No one disagreed with him, so that was
gut
. Now it was just a matter of time, and he could wait. “We will speak more about this in a few weeks then. In the meantime, I hope Henry sees the error of his ways. But he can't continue like he is—breaking the
Ordnung
regularly.”