My daughter-in-law and I decided to stock up at the dry goods store in Smicksburg, PA. Usually Smicksburg is a healing place and we needed it. She’d been pregnant during Covid and the talk of death made the grief of losing her dad resurface. We were also dealing with the loss of Josh, my son-in-law who died of brain cancer in October, 2020. So, going to Smicksburg seemed perfect.
When we got to the dry goods store, I noticed too many
buggies lined up around the owner’s house next door. Some Amish were walking
soberly. I gasped. NO! Surely not Clara! But it was Clara. She died of a heart
attack. Wow, I will miss her pleasant, quirky humor. Her daughters will
continue the store, but it won’t be the same.
“Let’s drive past the Bylers,” I suggested. “Maybe their
greenhouses are open.”
Another lump in my throat as we approached. “No!” I near
shouted as we saw many buggies, vans, and cars with Ohio license plates. As the
rain beat on the window, I let it down and shouted, “Bishop Byler?” The Amish
man shook his head. “I’m not Bishop Byler. I’m from Ohio.” I forced a smile. “You
have a twin then. Who passed away?”
It was the mother of all Bylers who came to Smicksburg in
1963 from Ohio, the lovely woman who in her late 80s gave me a four-hour interview
on their spirituality. How she relied on forgiveness and the power of the Holy
Spirit. She amazed me and since that day I’d drop in and she’d be sewing
clothes for her many grandchildren. “I’ll be sewing until I die,” she’d said.
Her husband preceded her in death by three months. I didn’t
even ask what the cause of death was. We all knew they were in their 90s and
that virus took them.
Somehow Smicksburg wasn’t my slice of heaven that day. The
only thing that helped was their view of death and not questioning the timing
of God. The sovereignty of God. I had to admit that since Josh passed, I’ve
struggled. Why, God? He was only thirty years old. His sons need him. My heart
hurts. Where are you in all this?
So, despite the stages of grief, the Amish simple trust in
God helps me again. I’m looking for more help, and I’d like to mention that a
letter from our Compassion child in Uganda made me see things from a childlike
faith.
“I’m not afraid of Covid. God knows my beginning and end,” Owen wrote.
Owen is six. Death is not foreign to him. It is to us living
in America. Many don’t know what to say to my widowed daughter.
I’m taking time away from novel writing for a season. It was
an easy decision. My book, 31 Days to a Simple Life, talks about simplicity of
mind. My family will always come first. My grandsons need Tim and me to take
them on a train trip, go to the zoo, have another sleep over and the list goes
on. I don’t want to be too busy to see what’s
important. And to accept the things I cannot change, as the Amish put it.
