His people to marry and bear children to fill the earth with godly children.”
“Emma,” he said, “was the exception, and God had blessed her also. The life Emma lived was one of service to others, to children, and to the church.”
“If one were to ask,” he said, “there would be many here today whose lives had been deeply touched by the care Emma had shown her pupils.” He knew this to be true because he had been told so by several parents yesterday soon after he arrived.
“Emma had placed God first,” he said, “and so had been able to serve others. This is an example to those who are left behind. The time will come when we all have to meet our Maker.” He paused for effect and let his gaze move over the congregation.
“Emma’s life had been a life lived in holiness,” he said. “Emma lived in obedience to God and at peace with the church.” He knew this because Bishop Mose had told him so. Such a testimony was not a thing to be scoffed at.
He went on to say that Emma was also an encouragement to the young people of the church. Her life was a pattern they could follow whether married or single. The world was out there and called with its allurements, tempting many to sin. Yet Emma had never given in to them. She had never wavered from her commitment to God and the church.
The preacher almost closed his eyes, looked toward the ceiling, clasped his hands on his chest, and quoted, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.” He spoke the Scripture in German, emphasizing lebendes opfer and heilig.
When he sat down, Raymond Weaver, one of the home ministers, got up. Rebecca knew him. He spoke a few words, then sat down with a nod in Bishop Mose’s direction. The bishop got up and closed the service, without the usual testimonies about what had been said. This was a day for family and remembrance.
Bench by bench the congregation stood and filed past the coffin. Few stopped for long. Most of the older folks were not directly related, and the schoolchildren whom Emma had taught paused. A few wiped their eyes and moved on.
Rebecca went with Leona when their turn came. Thankfully Leona understood her feelings and waited as Rebecca held up the line. Emma’s face was still lined with the severity she had in life, the edges only lightly softened by death. Behind that face had always been a soft heart, Rebecca knew.
No one seemed impatient behind her. Leona had taken Rebecca’s arm to show her support but made no effort to hurry her on. Rebecca lingered, caught up in her memories.
This had been the face of school for Rebecca. Numbers and grammar lessons she had not always enjoyed, but this woman she had always loved. From the day she had walked in as a frightened second grader, her fears of attending school with a strange teacher had melted away. Rebecca had felt secure and at home in school.
Their bond had continued even after her eight years of school were completed. The advice Emma gave her, only a few months ago, had meant as much as that given by her own mother. In this case it had meant more—partly because Emma wasn’t as close to the situation, Rebecca supposed, and so was able to give help in a different way.
Now Emma was gone. Only a likeness of the Emma she had known was left behind. Was this what the preachers talked about? Was this the clay God used to mold the first human?
Rebecca wondered whether Emma walked the streets of gold. Were there schoolrooms in heaven—something for her to do? Rebecca thought there should be because Emma was so good at her work.
Leona pulled on her arm. Just a gentle tug, but Rebecca knew it was time to move on—time in more ways than one. She was no longer a schoolgirl but soon to be a married woman and perhaps a mother herself of young girls. The thought startled her, as did a glance around her. The line in front of them was