LV's parents had finally moved, the spring plowing and planting was done, the garden was looking great with it's many rows of vegetables marching across it as neatly as possible. The flowerbeds around the house and all the buildings with their hundreds of flower plants were beginning to look really pretty.
LV was trying to control the starling population around the barnyard while I was weeding and primping one of the flowerbeds. Looking up I saw my brother John walking across our cow pasture. I rose from the grass and went to meet him. I was always so happy to have my family drop by. After greeting him with a cheery welcome, I realized something must be wrong by his sober answer.
"Grandpa Mast passed away about an hour ago." he told me. I stood there, numb. "I have to go let some of the other uncles know yet." he continued sympathetically and turned to go. The beauty of the day was lost to me as I stood there with tears streaming down my face. I knew Grandpa had looked forward to being with Jesus but that didn't make me miss him any less. LV came to see what John had wanted and I was so glad that I had someone to draw comfort from.
I went to the house to change into my black Sunday dress while LV went to hitch our horse to the buggy. We would be spending the rest of the day, until chore time, with Grandma, my parents and the rest of the family that lived nearby.
The next two days we spent all our time between chores at Grandma's house. The rest of the aunts, uncles, and cousins from other communities had arrived already. The house was filled with benches for everyone to sit on and Daddy's house had tables set up so everyone would have a place to eat. Women from the church came to cook and bake and take care of the family. It seemed different to be on the receiving end and while I appreciated it I didn't care for it much at all. I wondered who was digging the grave, since Daddy wouldn't be helping with that this time.
The morning of the funeral arrived and we made sure to be at the house around eight o'clock to be able to join the funeral possession to church. After a short supposedly comforting sermon and prayer everyone got ready to go. Some of the youth boys had made sure that every one's horse was ready to go. All we had to do was get into our buggy. The horses walked slowly all the way to the church house.
After all the family was seated the rest of the church people came and found seats. After two short sermons everyone filed past the coffin for one last glimpse of Grandpa. The church people went first followed by Grandpa's nieces and nephews and brothers and sisters. The grandchildren came next. Pausing next to the coffin it seemed unreal that this would be the last time I would ever see Grandpa. Never again would I have the chance to go talk to him, I wouldn't get to hear him talk any longer and I had always loved listening to his voice. It used to sound as if many little chuckles were hiding in it, but it was silenced now.
I had to move on. Others still needed to have their last turn. Finally his nine children gathered round the coffin, Tears flowed silently, and Vernie stood there stroking his hands until one of the men came and told them to sit down. He took a screw driver from his pocket and fastened the lid. Grandpa had requested his grandsons be the pallbearers. They came and carried his coffin out to the buggy where it would take it's final journey to the nearby graveyard.
Everyone else walked to the graveside. We arrived as they were lowering the coffin into the ground. I noticed one of the men from church forcing his way up between family to stand at the edge of the grave. I felt disgusted and repulsed when I realized why he wanted to be there. He along with the majority of the Somerset Amish believed you could know whether or not the deceased was now in heaven by listening to the first shovel full of dirt that was placed into the grave. If it didn't make noise everything was fine, but if it rattled .....
I wished someone would have warned the pallbearers about that stupid superstition. They had never heard anything like it and heedlessly went and plopped a shovel full of dirt noisily on top of the coffin. As the man drew back, surprised, and shaking his head I felt like slugging him. I didn't believe for an instant that Grandpa's future in eternity was determined by that first shovel full of dirt.
Amen! How superstitious! Things of the sort have to be ignored; remembering the deceased the way we know they lived their lives!
ReplyDeleteBlessings,
Debbie S.
If only clocking that man once would solve his ignorance.
ReplyDeleteWhat a blessing your grandpa was to your life. Just as grandparents should be.
ReplyDeleteHi,
ReplyDeleteI am curious as to whether this custom is common to the Amish, or unique to that particular community.
What an odd superstition, especially since it can so easily be manipulated by those throwing that first shovelful of dirt in. The doesn't show very much faith in God's judgement nor his power to bring souls home. You shoulda clocked him.
ReplyDeleteOh, that makes me so angry! I know that it was years ago now but I can tell that your feelings are still close to the surface.
ReplyDeleteWhen my mother died, her pastor's mother was in ICU and he was understandably unable to preach her funeral. My aunt stepped in and offered the services of her pastor, which I gratefully accepted - until I realized that he'd never met my mother. I will always regret not asking my mother's pastor to recommend another member of the congregation to stand in. My mother was only 45 when she died, and I was too young to feel that I could really stand up against the rest of the family, but I should have.
When my father died, I asked a lay minister to conduct his graveside service. This man had known my dad his entire life and was able to both preach and relate personal memories of my dad, which meant a lot to me. A few old friends shared their rememberances, too, which while perhaps not entirely traditional, was very fitting.
Exactly what Folky Dots said.
ReplyDeleteWhat a sad day it was for you and you did not need the irritation of that silly man. Your grandfather sounded lovely and you have wonderful memories of him, safe in the knowledge that he truly is in heaven.
ReplyDeleteIt's such a shame people can be that superstitious, but from what I've seen most societies have their factions that lean in that direction. I once heard a young mother say she wouldn't allow her baby to see its reflection in a mirror as that would prevent its teeth from coming in. o.O
ReplyDeleteDid ur church have a meetinghouse? I had thought old order amish don't have meetinghouses?
ReplyDeleteI never ever heard of such a stupid way of deciding of whether someone is saved. I imagine if he didn't repend the first shovel of dirt in his grave will probably sound like thunder.
ReplyDeleteYou wrote so well about your feelings that I was feeling it all with you, even to wanting to slug that man. The ignorance of superstition is deplorable.
ReplyDeleteI know how exasperating (and infuriating) other people's funerary customs can be, especially when you're grieving... this brought back so much about my own grandfather's burial that I'm really feeling for you, all over again! It never truly fades, but we will see them again.
ReplyDeleteWhat a bizarre superstition.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, the important thing is your memories of a grandfather with "many little chuckles hiding" in his voice remains inviolate. That's what is precious.
He was happy in heaven long before that first shovel of dirt was thrown.
ReplyDeleteI have never heard of this superstition, but I guess to the Amish it was real. God bless their souls. Nothing but the Blood of Jesus can a person enter into heaven.
ReplyDeleteI enjoy your story so much. Am always anxious to hear the next part.
It sounds like your Grandfather was a kind man. This post makes me think of My own Grandparents and How much I miss them. Blessings, Joanne
ReplyDeleteYou know your Grandad is resting peacefully, and that's what matters. Nobody else's superstitions and beliefs make any difference to that.
ReplyDeleteOn such a sorrowful occasion,the last thing you want to see or hear is a load of old clap-trap like that from that man.How insensitive he was.Our faith instills our belief that we go to Heaven and no old wives' tale should try to undo that belief!
ReplyDeleteThat superstitiouis man carries the fear that there may be a rattle of dirt on his own coffin...and that's a sad way to live. You had the privilege of having Grandpa as your very own and all the fine memories attached are your's for the keeping and remembering :-)
ReplyDeleteI am saddened at your loss, and absolutely enraged at the idiocy of that superstition (first I had heard of it.)
ReplyDeleteI have to wonder: Could this myth survive in any other culture? The Amish frown upon beating sense into folk, but I just can't help wondering how long it would take to eliminate this hurtful bit of witchery if everyone who recoiled at the sound of DIRT was soundly beaten for the insult of their reaction.
Never thought I would want to batter an Amish man I don't even know, but here I sit... stewing. How ignorant would you have to be to do this? Anyone who had so much as had the basics of scripture explained to them would know this is closer to witchcraft than Christianity.
Thank you for your sweet comment...I hate to admit that my fascination for the Amish has me "studying" alot of your old posts....and really not feeling good about this one! Having no knowledge whatsoever of what the Amish truly believe....I can only think that if one is truly seeking God's will for their lives, and truly interested in how to become a Christian and live the Christian life then one would certainly be familiar with the verse in John 3:16"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life!" What a freeing thing that is! To simply know that if we put our trust and complete faith in Christ that we will be able to dwell with Him forever in eternity....Shoot.....a shovel full of dirt certainly cannot change that!!! I pity the man that thought that and I certainly admire your courage and look forward to learning alot more about the Amish community and Your story!
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