Swords into Plows

From Chapter 2 “John, get the wagon and a shovel. We’re going to the cemetery. Grandma brought flowers to plant at the children’s graves.” My brother Joseph, and sister Lucinda, died before I was born. They were buried in the Willshire Cemetery several miles from our house. I was four when my sister, Lynette Ann, died of influenza. Ma and Pa buried her in the Zimmermann's family cemetery. Ma always said God spared me and Sarah from influenza, then gave her Malissa, as an added blessing. Grandpa came out. “Take our buggy, John.” Ma said once it would be a cold day in July before we’d own a carriage. The same wagon Pa used in the fields carried us to church on Sunday. “Are you sure?” Ma looked questionably at Grandpa. “John’s never driven a buggy.” “No better time to learn. And his horse can do the pulling.” My chest swelled with excitement. After stopping at the nearby Zimmermann Cemetery and planting flowers at baby Lynette’s grave, we headed toward the large community cemetery at Willshire. We would travel the new national highway, a road paved with macadam. A straight road. An uncontrollable urge to see how fast a carriage could go swept over me. I tapped Trixy lightly. She must have had the same idea, taking off at a fast trot. Grandma and Ma bounced from one side of the carriage to the other. “Sakes Alive! Slow Trixy down, John Fremont!” Ma meant business. I tugged on the rein but Trixy wasn’t ready to slow down. I couldn’t see their faces which were probably white, but I knew Ma and Grandma hung onto one another bracing their feet to keep from falling out of the carriage. “Whoa,” I yelled at Trixy just as a big buck bounded out of the woods in front of us. Hearing the carriage sounds, he quickly braced himself on hind legs and came to a screeching halt. Trixy halted just as suddenly, nearly throwing me off my seat. Heart pounding, I wondered about Ma and Grandma. Were they still in the carriage? They were. Ma didn’t say a word - probably couldn’t. At the cemetery, Ma ignored me. Her silence really hurt. She located a scrubby elm tree she used as a marker to find the grave stones with the children’s names on them. I dug where she told me. A family of gray mice, surprised by a forged steel shovel, ran from their nest. “One, two, three, four, five.” I held back the dirt on the shovel as Grandma placed a rosebush and a clump of flowers at each child’s grave. "You can pick these when they start to bloom. They’re called ’Live Forever’ from the Opine family of flowers that live for months after they’re picked. Isn’t that something, John?" A whitish rabbit scurried from its hiding place in the tall grass. Grandma saw it first. “The earth is full of the glory of God,” she quoted from the Psalms. I gathered up the tools and put them in the carriage. Ma, without saying a word, climbed into the driver’s seat and took the reins. On the last day of their visit, Grandpa and I went to Shanesville. Almost wished I hadn't taken him. Grandpa kept bragging on me, telling Mr. Whitley that I wanted to be a blacksmith, like he didn’t know. "You ought to see his horse. Trixy has really healthy hoofs. John uses the rasp to keep the wear on the horse’s hoofs even. I wanted to cover my head with a blanket or something. It’s not like Mr. Whitley doesn’t see Trixy all the time. Mr. Whitley just grinned. "John helps me some already. As a matter of fact, I’m thinking I’ll ask his Pa if he can help me more. Two of my helpers enlisted last week. I need John to help with the forge and blast." "Wow! Mr. Whitley thinks I can work the bellows that blow the air to keep the fire hot,” I said when we were alone. Grandpa assumed Mr. Whitley needed me to keep the coal shuttles full and the wood cut. How could he be so wrong? I liked having the folks here almost as much as Ma did. When they got ready to leave, Ma turned to Grandma. "I wish you lived closer. If anything happened to Pa, or me, I would like to know you were near." Uncle David shook my hands, then dropped a bombshell. "I may not see you again until the war is over. I’ve enlisted in the Ohio 153 Infantry for at least a year. Just waiting to be called." Chapter 4 Ma reached over and put her hand on mine. “Try to sit still, John.” Don't know why I fidgeted so. Sitting in church next to Ma and Pa, I kept squirming on the hard hewn log pew. I counted candles - those on the altar and in the windows. I counted the boys, then the girls, the men and the women. Finally, with nothing else to count, I counted the splatters on the plastered walls and ceilings made by birds that flew through the opened windows. Rev. Chesbrough announced a hymn. Now we could stand up. Since I liked to sing and people said I had a good voice, I sang louder than anyone. A charge to keep I have, a God to glorify, A never dying soul to save, and fit it for the sky! To serve the present age, my calling to fulfill; O may it all my powers engage, to do my Master's will! When Pa shut the hymnbook with more force than usual, I jumped. Pa tried to not show it, but he was nervous. Apprehension was a word I learned in school. Means an anxious feeling that something would happen. That's what's going on here - lots of apprehension. Rev. Chesbrough, a man somewhat younger than Pa, rubbed his hand to his nose, tweaked his ear, and read from scripture the words of Micah, "They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore." I watched a wasp fly in the window. Watched it circle around the Miller’s pew, land on their oldest daughter’s paper fan, and take off when she jumped and swatted at it. It dived into the Robert’s pew and took off again when Mr. Robert hit at it with his hymnbook. The women pretended not to see it. They looked intently at the pastor but whether or not they wanted to, several women gasped when it whirled around the pastor’s face. I looked at Nathan Chesbrough, my good friend. Nathan looked back. He held up fingers crossed for luck that his Pa wouldn't be stung. Suddenly, I felt Pa's muscles tighten as Rev. Chesbrough stepped down from the pulpit. He seemed not to notice the wasp. He stood right in front of us. "Each of you men is struggling, as I am, about how to answer the call of our country. Micah doesn't answer that question for us. Each of us must listen to God. You alone will know what you must do. If you decide you must go to war, let it be your decision. Do not judge your neighbor’s decision." Chills like huge hailstones hitting my body from head to foot ran down my spine. What would Pa do?