A Dream for Hannah by Jerry S. Eicher

final road, the buggies had slowed down to a slow walk. Within a hundred yards of the field where they would park, the line moved haltingly, a constant stopping and starting.
    “Drop us off at the house,” Kathy suggested.
    “You think you’ll get into the house service?” Roy asked.
    “Since we’re not relatives, I doubt it. But they have a large pole barn out back. I’ll wait for you at the house. Then we can head out there.”
    Roy nodded. Amish funerals were often conducted in two locations if the main building couldn’t accommodate everyone. Separate preachers and preaching would be arranged with the secondary meeting kept informed of the progress in the main house. In this way similar schedules would be maintained.
    Roy slowed the buggy to a halt and let Kathy out with Hannah and Emma. Isaac had driven a separate buggy with Miriam. As Hannah stepped down from the buggy, the usual sight greeted her—the long rows of men and boys attired in white shirts and black suits on each side of the driveway.
    While the sight was the usual, the effect on Hannah this morning wasn’t. She tried to maintain her composure as she followed Kathy up the driveway toward the house. The weight of so many somber and black-clad males was palpable in the air.
    I’m guilty, Hannah cried inwardly as she fought back the tears. Other accusing voices joined in as the weight pressed in on her. Yes, it’s my fault Peter is dead.
    She felt so condemned. The best thing she could do to keep from crying out her guilt to everyone present was to keep her eyes on the ground and not show any undue emotion.
    Hannah placed one foot in front of the other while she fought with her thoughts and her guilt. Surely relief would come soon after this day was over. This pain simply couldn’t go on forever.
    While they waited outside the house for Roy, Kathy greeted some of the women. Most of them were unfamiliar to Hannah, visitors no doubt, likely relatives of Peter’s she had never met. Everyone spoke in short whispers, no in-depth conversations. Such talk would come later, but for now everyone stood silently and waited for the ushers to let them know when it would be time to go inside.
    When Roy appeared, he motioned for Kathy to follow him to the pole barn and the secondary service. However, an usher stopped them and indicated they were to get in line for the primary service in the house.
    “We’re not relatives,” Roy whispered to him.
    “It was one of your cousin’s friends, was it not?” the usher asked.
    “Yes,” Roy agreed.
    “That’s good enough, then.” The usher motioned with his hand. “Most of the immediate relatives are already seated. There will yet be room.”
    Roy shrugged and got in line with Kathy and the girls. Hannah could see nothing of Miriam and Isaac. Wherever they were, they would find seats for themselves.
    The service started without any songs as all Amish funerals did. The service began abruptly with the preaching as if to accent the suddenness with which death often comes.
    Hannah sat numbly beside her mom and tried not to move. She listened to the preaching and hoped something would be said that would help. They were now on the third speaker, all of whom spoke, as Amish ministers do, without notes or a Bible. The love and mercy of God was mentioned, but the main points all three men made were about the evilness of sin and how God calls us before the judgment seat at unexpected times and in unexpected ways.
    “The judgment day comes quickly,” Minister Alvin said, “like the turning of a page or the opening of a door. We never know what lies beyond that door.” He clasped his hands in front of him, holding them at chest level. His black beard, not yet showing any signs of gray, came down far enough to lightly touch his clasped hands.
    “A holy God demands an answer for sin,” he said as his voice gathered strength. “We cannot live as we want and then die expecting that He does not care. Our lives are as a