October song (16 page)

“Obadiah is never sure just how many workers will turn up on a day like this,” John told Philip. “He leaves that to God . and the weather, too.”

Philip was astounded at the number of women and young children scattered out over the area. Somewhere in the multitude of spectators and workers, his Rachel sat nursing their son, Gabriel. Annie, no doubt, was already playing with her first cousins and school friends. Christ’s feed ing of the five thousand came to mind as dawn broke in a blaze of golden sunshine.

Zook’s teenage sons kept themselves busy directing buggy traffic, tying up and watering horses along the treed area of the lane, welcoming friends, relatives, and English farmers who’d received word of the barn raising. A bus drove up and stopped at the end of the lane, depositing

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Amishmen from the neighboring church districts of Hickory Hollow and Summer-Hill. The men wore black trousers and long-sleeved white shirts some sleeves already rolled up tan suspenders, and straw hats. Each was prepared for a long day of hard manual labor.

Days before, skilled men had finished repairing the old foundation. Beams and posts were cut ahead of time, as well, completing the bulk of the task before the frolic ever began. In systematic fashion, much of the lumber was stacked in piles, marked in accordance to the order of use. All that remained was putting the pieces together to build a new barn — and a lot of brawn and hard work. Every aspect of the work would be done manually with only the aid of air-powered tools such as saws and drills. A diesel-powered air compressor provided the energy for the necessary equipment.

Out in the pasture, elderly folk began setting up folding chairs in rows, like spectators at a sporting event. There were cars lining the street, too, curiosity seekers watching from the road, photographers with cameras poised. Raising a big barn in a single day was nothing to sneeze at.

Amish children played games of checkers on blankets, while others pulled

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little brothers or sisters in wagons around the yard, stopping occasionally to get a cold drink at the old well pump. There was the steady drone of Pennsylvania Dutch, some farmers meeting with others for the first time in months or even years, depending on who had shown up for the last barn frolic.

Obadiah’s assistant wasted little time dividing the men into groups, assigning specific jobs to each. Philip was teamed up with five other men who were responsible for preparing planks and panels that would ultimately create the frame of the barn. Moses Raber was the older man assigned to oversee Philip.

They set right to work. Now and then, Philip attempted to make eye contact with the carpenter who had spoken out so harshly against him. But to no avail. Obviously, Moses was still offended. Along with being burly in excellent shape the fifty-some-year-old carpenter towered over Philip and the others in the group. His face, seamed with lines, was pale in comparison to the ruddy-faced farmers, and heavy calluses and cuts were evident on the man’s severely gnarled hands. Each of his finger ioints were swollen, as well.Moses has crippling arthritis,Philip thought,

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never having noticed before today.

On a number of occasions, he offered to help carry a plank to ease the weight on Moses’ hands. The gruff man, however, refused any such assistance, muttering in Dutch under his breath.

WhyhadObadiah and his assistant put the two of them together on the same work team? It seemed strange.YetPhilip was determined to break through the barrier. Somehow he would not let this apparent rift continue. He would show Moses with compassion that he was, in fact, one of the brethren.

By seven o’clock, as streams of sunlight trickled across hill and dale, dozens of men utilized ropes and poles to hoist and heave the first frame into position. Consisting of tall posts joined to a crossbeam, the single framework extended the full length of the structure sixty by ninety feet. Nimble-footed workmen climbed the frame, their bodies draped precariously over giant girders like so many grasshoppers. Carefully, they fitted each section of the growing frame, piece by piece.

By nine-thirty the men stopped work for a snack. Philip stood in line at the pump to wash his face and hands, while Moses headed in the opposite direction, head

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down, glancing back over his shoulder at Philip. Apparently, Moses was harboring a grudge, in spite of Rachel’s declaration

that “the People don’t usually.. “Don’t usually . .

He wondered if Moses had succeeded in souring others in the community toward him. “Live the life before your brethren, come what may,” Philip’s pastor had advised. Philip intended to continue doing so, regardless of how many more mistakes he might make as a newcomer. Having felt somewhat of an oddity upon first settling here, he recalled his wife’s kind and loving reassurance, along with that of her parents, Benjamin and Susanna Zook Lavina Troyer, too. The People were discerning, he was told. They could detect both the spirit of a charlatan and a true-hearted soul. “You’re ever so sincere,” Rachel said on more than one occasion. “And if it weren’t so, my mother would see right through you!”

They’d had a private laugh over it, but he believed Rachel was right. His mother-in-law could spot a phony a mile off.

Funny how some people were. Upon taking a job as a junior reporter atFamily Life Magazine,fresh out of college, high-powered journalists and their personal

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copy editors had initially made him feel out of place. They hadn’t meant to, of course. It was just this feeling of connectedness that a group acquires when they work together day in, day out. It tends to lead, sometimes innocently, sometimes not, to the clique mentality, to the schoolboy’s “nanny, nanny, booboo

we were herefirst”mindset. Moses Raber reminded him clearly of those first few weeks at the Manhattan editorial of-rices so long ago.

He knew he didn’thaveto look for ways to get in the good graces of Moses Raber. What Philip felt now had nothing to do with the expectations of the People. His inner desire was to overlook the older man’s intolerance — if that’s what was actually bothering Moses — and move on.

“Faith looks up,” he’d read somewhere recently. Sorrow looks back to “what might’ve been,” and worry looks around to gather more woe. But faith . faith sees prospects for the future and moves ahead.

Philip and the others in the plank crew rested again briefly, well before the noon meal was scheduled, when they had gotten far enough ahead of the supply. During that time, Moses shuffled over to a tree in

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the side yard and sat alone.

Should I go to him now?Philip wondered, relying on God for wisdom. Not to be con spicuous, he stood around with the other men in his crew, glancing only occasionally at Moses.

High atop the lofty beams, the roof crew braced their bare feet against the widest joists, nailing the wall planks into place. Young boys combed the ground below for small items such as hammers and nails, scraps of boards, and occasionally a straw hat or two that the wind had lifted off someone’s sweaty head.

Obadiah and his assistant kept the workmen on task, calling out instructions. Two older teenage boys, who were particu larly deft on their feet, scrambled over boards, scaling the sides of planks, taking Obadiah’s important commands to the men working high on the apex beams of the roof. The building of the new barn was well under way, running like clockwork.

Philip and Moses teamed up again after the short breather. Philip recalled his first roofing jobs after settling into the area. Those days and weeks had been very sim ilar tothisday as he had worked alongside an older, more experienced roofer, learning the skill without the benefit of

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hardly any verbal communication. He was slowly beginning to acclimate to the fact that most directions were conveyed in a nonverbal way in the Plain community. A rather silent persuasion, as Philip recalled.

For a man his age, Amishness began with an eagerness to accept responsibility, no matter the job complexity. A new con vert’s position in the community was based upon what he produced. Hard manual labor was a big part of being accepted into the fellowship of the brethren, and with a willingness to work hard came a strong sense of being needed, of dependence one upon another.

Working together with Moses Raber, so far, had been anything but a good experi ence. The carpenter spoke little and when he did, it was Dutch, which was to be ex pected, though Philip thought Mosesmightbe more understanding, given Philip’s status.

“If ya mean business, you’ll learn the language,” Moses said at one juncture. “If

you’re serious ‘bout being Amish, that is.” “I’m completely serious,” he insisted. Moses stopped and pulled hard on his beard. “When you’ve practiced the lan guage, we’llallknow you’re one of us,” he said.

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There was no mention of Vern Eisenberger and the “borrowed” pickup, but Philip got the message loud and clear.

At noon the men ceased their work entirely and sat on church benches at long tables, eating in shifts. Philip and his crew ate during the “second sitting.” There was enough food for three hundred or more men and their families. Kettles of macaroni noodles continued to boil as the first few shifts of men ate meatloaf and noodles, cherry Jell-O, and date pudding. There were pies and a variety of additional desserts, as well.

Not until all the men were finished eating and back to work did the women and children ever sit down to the “set” menu. This was not an occasion for an assortment of potluck dishes. The menu was carefully planned, overseen by several women relatives and friends, each bringing specified items, such as countless bowls of date pudding or dozens of baking pans of meatloaf.

After the meal Moses went again to sit under the same shade tree, looking rather peaked, rubbing his face with his hands. Then he began to fan himself slowly with his straw hat.

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Thinking this was the right time to make his move, Philip hurried past a bush where men’s hats were still airing. He gazed down at the man enjoying a bit of protection from the sun under the tree. “Excuse me, Moses. May I have a word with you?”

“Talk is cheap” came the terse reply. Philip squatted at eye level with the man. “I think I understand why you’re put out with me.”

“Well, now, is that so?”

He paused, making no progress at all with the ill-mannered man. “You know, I got behind the wheel of the feed sales man’s pickup for only one reason,” he said. “I wanted to help save Zook’s barn.”

“Shoulda thought more ‘n twice ‘bout something that serious.” Moses snapped off a long, fat blade of grass and stared blankly at it. “Ain’t never a bad thing to ponder something before doin’ it. Anybody

oughta know that.”

Anybody …

There was no budging the man toward civility. Philip could see that. Yet he made a final attempt. “Some may think I’m here for only a short time. But the truth is — by the help of God — when I’m your age and older, I will be serving the Lord and my

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fellow man as a believer, right here in Bird-in-Hand.”

“Say whatcha want,” Moses shot back. “I’m saying what Ibelieve.The Lord has saved me from the beggarly elements of this world, as stated in the book of Galatians. I have turned my back on that miserable life to become a follower of Jesus Christ.” He paused, noting that the singular blade of grass had slid out of Moses’ crippled fingers and onto his trouser leg.

Inadvertently, Philip had turned on the heat with his pronouncement, but whatever he’d said seemed to register with Moses. The man rose to his feet with a grunt and nodded his head. He didn’t suddenly welcome Philip into the fellowship of believers, nothing like that, but Mosesdidmumble a halfhearted assent. “Well, now, if you’re sincere one of us you’ll learn to speak our language.”

There it was again, the insistence that Philip learn to speak Dutch. “I dounderstandit well,” he said. This due to the fact that Rachel and Annie spoke it “a mile a minute” around the house.

“Awwer Kannscht du Deitsch schwetzebut can youspeakDutch?” Moses asked bluntly. “Ain’t never heard ya much.”

“EnBissela little,” he replied in ear

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nest. He had thought of asking Rachel to give him a crash course in Pennsylvania Dutch many times. He would see to it promptly, if that’s what would convince Moses and who knows how many others. “I’ll be speaking Dutch come Christmas.”

Moses put his hat on his head, a hint of a smile on his creased face. When it was time to return to the work crew, Philip walked side by side with Moses as they ap proached the barnyard.

It was late into the afternoon, and sev eral boys carried buckets of drinking water to the workers. Philip was glad for a re freshing cold drink. The day had turned unseasonably warm; quite a surprise for this late in autumn. They’d worked up a sweat and needed water to “wet their whistle,” as well as to replenish their bodies in order to finish the job.

While Moses drank from the ladle, it began to slip out of his crippled hand. Philip caught it in the nick of time and as sisted, holding the ladle steady for his team member.

A cup of cold water in my name. .The Scripture ran through his mind.

The two men’s eyes met and held mo mentarily. There was no exchange of

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words, but Philip sensed that common ground had been established between him self and the outspoken man.

The barn was up before nightfall. Neigh bors, spectators, and the workers them selves — along with their families — began to head for home. They left as they came, some in awe that Amish and English alike could work together in such harmony. An extraordinary day and experience for all concerned.

Philip gathered up his own tools and went to find Rachel, Annie, and Gabe.

Meanwhile, John Zook and his wife, Rebecca, stood beside the new barn and prayed a blessing over it, gathering their sons and daughters and Grandfather Zook near. “We have much to be thankful for,” John said, head bowed. “God has blessed us with kind, helpful neighbors and friends. Let us thank the Lord always for this provision of His mercy.”