Accidental Profundity

We had communion today.  My four-year-old grandson sat with me since his daddy was leading the singing and his mother was at home because of illness.  I explained to him what the procedure would be when we received the emblems of the broken body and shed blood of Jesus and gave him a choice about whether he wanted to follow the line around the front with me or wait on the bench till I got back.  He wanted to go with me.

Earlier he had asked me what was under the cloth on the table at the front and I had told him it was something like soft crackers and grape juice.  He had one more question:  "Is there enough for everyone?"  Amazing social acumen there little buddy--in that politely oblique question.

Little ones have looked longingly for years at what the adults do during communion and wanted to get in on the goodies.  My younger siblings remember gathering around Deacon Mahlon Wagler's car after church on communion Sundays in hopes of getting in on what was left over.

If I hadn't just had a conversation about closed communion with someone else, I might never have noticed that Tristan's question could involve more gravity than a mere child's wanting to share in the good things others are enjoying.  Is there enough for everyone?

****************

Tristan has the quiet whispering thing down pat--so  much so that I sometimes don't understand him the first time when he whispers something to me.  Today I asked him to repeat something several times.  I finally got it.  He was saying "I didn't say anything."

Too funny--and a real test of this grandma's ability to maintain proper decorum in church. I think I flunked.

****************

Today was Lydia Yoder's funeral.  If both chuckles and tears can be part of a good funeral, this was good.  It was a bright sunny day with a cool breeze.  The soil from the grave was moist--not dry clods and not slippery mud.

Joe told us in a brief conversation after the burial that three or four years ago when it appeared that his mother was near death during an exceptional drought, he knew that digging a grave would be very difficult.  He decided to take some precautions.  The plan was to fill a 1,000 gallon tank with water at home during the day.  At night he was going to haul the tank over to the cemetery and let water trickle onto the spot where the grave would be dug--next to Melvin's, her husband who had died earlier.

As happened several other times, Lydia rallied that time, and the grave was not needed.  We haven't had a great deal of moisture this winter (hardly any snow), but just enough to moisten the soil nicely.

Here is a link to Lydia's funeral:  https://youtu.be/scFeiejqyfA

****************

My brother Lowell, who is one of our funeral directors, is still in Nigeria.  Leroy H. is his substitute, and has needed to fill in several times of late.

***************

Today I met Mary, Lydia's niece.  I knew her when she was one and I was three and both of our families lived in the same community near Jerome, MI.

My family moved back to Kansas, and a few years later, their family moved to Hicksville, OH.

With Mary was Mandy Coblentz.  The two women used to teach school together.

Later today I went back to visit some more with Mandy and learned that she and her husband had just moved to Kansas to work for Choice books for the next 18 months.  They have a son Mike who is married to Wanda.  They have lived here ever since they got married and go to church at Arlington.

More trivia:  Rebecca told me after church that Mary asked her who the song leader was (Shane) and who his mother is (me).  When Rebecca told me that Mary was the daughter of Anna (Lydia's sister), I knew immediately that she must have been that little girl from Michigan.  So I went to talk to her and said that Rebecca had tipped me off to who she was.  Somehow Shane's name came up when Mary and I talked, with Mandy also present and being part of the conversation.

"So the song leader was Shane!" Mandy exclaimed.  "My son Kevin knows him.  He lives in Paraguay now and asked us to send out his Christmas mail.  Shane's came back [old address apparently].  I should have brought it along!"

In our later conversation, Mandy told me that her mother was an Italian Catholic when her parents first met.  Her father was an Amish boy in 1-W service at the same hospital where her mother worked as a secretary.  They married and were part of an Amish church and community.  Her mother learned Dutch and added that language to the English and Italian she already spoke fluently.

Our little Amish world is not really so small.  The three of us in our little conversation group have lived or had family members who have lived in at least four countries and three states:  Paraguay, Italy, Japan, Bangladesh, Ohio, Kansas, and Michigan.

Lydia would have been pleased at how many people made new acquaintances or renewed old ones on the occasion of her funeral.  Those were her delights as well.