The Postcard by Beverly Lewis Read Free Book Online

his son, Aaron, but rather we shall prepare ourselves to follow after these departed ones. Their voices are no longer heard amongst us. Their presence no longer felt. Their chairs are empty; their beds are empty.”
    He expounded on the grimness of dying in one’s sins, though Jacob Yoder had chosen that good and right path— the only way a just and upright Amishman could stand before God on the Judgment Day, assured of where he stood for all eternity.
    Their presence no longer felt . . .
    Rachel stared over Annie’s shoulder, down at her own black dress and apron. It was a blessing in disguise that the Lord had allowed her to be this calm and sedate at Jacob’s and Aaron’s funeral. By not looking so much at the small coffin, slightly wider at the shoulders and narrowing at both ends, she was able to keep her emotions in check. Her firstborn lay silent and still inside that box, dressed in crisp white trousers and shirt. She had combed his hair gently, though she hadn’t had the courage to push his little feet into the “for good” shoes before the funeral. Rather, she had kept the black shoes, putting them away in her own bedroom closet. There was something dear about the feet of a child. So Aaron would be buried stockingfooted, in clean black socks. Not something the Lord would mind, she was sure. To the contrary, she was almost positive her Aaron would be running barefoot in heaven—his father, too. It was what they were most accustomed to. Jesus would see to it that their feet were washed and cooled at the end of each day in Paradise.
    As for the untimely deaths, she did not question God, for she had been taught to believe that His supreme will was above and over all. Yet the utter sadness had already begun to carve out a hole in her heart.
    Their chairs are empty. . . .
    The second minister stood to give the main address. “We come together this afternoon, united in spirit under the blessing of God, our heavenly Father, to bury our brother, Jacob Yoder, and his young son, Aaron Yoder.” His words reverberated through the long front room of the farmhouse.
    Rachel missed the spirit of her church. It was sadly absent here today, though she’d refused to insist on her opinion. Caleb and Mary Yoder had had their say as to the type of funeral service. Still, she would have been more inclined to have at least Aaron’s service at the familiar meetinghouse, where she and Jacob and the children attended Sunday school and church, packed out each week with Amish Mennonite friends and relatives. By the looks of things, the folk had turned out strong for the somber occasion, despite the traditional service. She would not have been so bold as to request a separate funeral anyhow.
    What’s done is done , she determined, paying close attention to the Scripture reading from John, chapter five.
    “ ‘Verily, verily, I say unto you, the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live.’ ” The preacher read through the verses until he came to the thirty-fourth. Then he began to expound on the reading, saying that the text spoke of passing from death unto life.
    When the People turned and knelt at their benches, Annie folded her hands in spite of the arm splint and leaned in close to Rachel. As the preacher prayed, Rachel realized for the first time since the accident that her knees were awful sore. She kept her eyes closed for the lengthy rote prayer, yet she reached down and pulled her dress away from her legs, touching curiously the blistered areas on her knees. She wondered how on earth the welts had gotten there, what had happened to cause them, having no recollection of ever scraping her knees . . . or burning them.
    The People stood for the benediction. There had been no music, which seemed awful empty and even more sorrowful to Rachel. She loved the rich harmonies of a cappella singing. Another sigh slipped from her lips, and she hoped Jacob would