by Jay Heavner
The bone-chilling sleet continued to pelt the window of the farmhouse on that early January morn in 1862. General Stonewall Jackson of the Confederate Army sat at the table. He was using the house near the Indian Mound Cemetery at Romney as his headquarters. After the march from Winchester, Virginia, his frozen southern troops, not used to this kind of weather, had balked at continuing on to Jackson's final objective, the vital town of Cumberland, Maryland. The B and O Railroad that supplied the Union cause must be severed.
An open-hearth fireplace took the chill from the room. Jackson laid his spectacles down by his well-worn Bible. Federal troops controlled western Virginia, and there was talk of Lincoln making that area a new state loyal to the Union. If he had anything to do about it, there would be only one Virginia, not two. He had been born in Clarksburg, Virginia, in western Virginia. His troops were firmly in control of Romney for now, but for how long? This region had exchanged hands many times already in this civil war. How long would they hold on this time?
His eyes dropped to the coins on the table before him. Ten gold coins. Ten old gold coins. Ten old gold British coins. Could this actually be part of General Braddock's Gold that was lost north of his present position, somewhere in Pennsylvania? The Yankee prisoner they had seemed to think so. He said he had found the coins in a river there. The troops that had interrogated him had threatened him with death if he did not tell all he knew, but that was all he knew. General Jackson did not approve of his soldiers' tactics, but now he had the information just the same. If Braddock’s Gold payroll could be found, the Confederacy could use it to repay the French for the gold they had given the new Southern government.
General Jackson would love to strike at the Yankees north in Maryland and Pennsylvania, but he was tied down here. He would pass this valuable information on to General Robert E. Lee. He knew that Lee wanted to take the fight to the Yankees there soon. Perhaps this would influence his decision as to when and where. Possibly, but for now, he would go back to his Bible and read more of David, the warrior king of ancient Israel. War could and would wear down the soul. His spirit needed refreshing. Jackson opened his book to Psalms. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the path of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou are with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me."
The General smiled to himself. If David, with all his troubles, could do it, he could too. “The Lord is my shepherd,” he whispered to himself. “I will fear no evil for Thou are with me.”
Chapter 31
Michael Levy sat at the porch of the old house near Patterson Creek, watching the sunrise. He loved this time of day. It gave him a time to think. Three months ago, he got the bad news from his doctor, chronic heart deterioration. He had six months to two years to live. His heart would continue to weaken. There was no cure. One day it would just give out, and he would be gone. He should not exert himself strenuously. There should be no heavy lifting. He had called his boss, The Voice, and let him know this would be his last crop for him and why. The Voice expressed his thanks for many years of service and asked if there was anything he could do. Michael said no. He had plenty of money for the end of life decisions, and he was setting his affairs in order. The Voice again made sure Michael knew if there was anything he could do to just ask for it.
Michael was bored. The marijuana crop in the trailers that served as grow houses had been harvested, and he had his share of the profits from The Voice. And it had been terrific and very profitable. He was bored, very bored. He had been searching for the phantom Braddock's Gold for years, and that was at a dead end. Michael had accumulated his own small library at the old farmhouse. Most of the books dealt in one way or the other to his search for the elusive treasure. And he had a goodly number of publications by Tony Hillerman and Louis L'Amour. Michael loved reading about the American West.
And now he had bored, bored, bored. Michael needed some tires for his old car. The present tires were thin and would never get him through the winter. Money was no object. He had plenty. The old tires on snowy roads could kill him before his heart finally gave out, and he was in no hurry to go. He saw a tire ad in the paper from Wal-Mart, and it was a reasonable price on American-made tires. He drove over to the store, picked out the tires he wanted, and waited in the guest lobby as they called the waiting room at the store. Michael bought a Coke from the machine and sat down. His eyes spotted a large ad posted on the wall. It said, "Bored? Need money? Wal-Mart has a job for you." Michael had nothing else to do, so he walked over to the store's human resources and applied.
To his surprise, they hired him as a greeter and wanted him to start as soon as possible. They agreed on next Monday. When he got back to the auto section, the serviceman was waiting. The new tires were on his car, the paperwork completed, and he could go. What a surprise this day had been. He went for tires, got them, and had gotten hired. As he drove back to the old house, he became aware of a growling stomach. Michael stopped at Linda's Old Furnace Restaurant. He ordered a hearty breakfast, two scrambled eggs, home fries, grits, and two strips of bacon. Michael was Jewish, though his family had been secular for years. And he loved the taste of bacon. A cup of coffee rounded out the delicious meal. He left a big tip for the waitress and paid his bill. As he walked to the door, he noted the many pictures on the walls, mainly images of Indians. The owner must surely love Indians, he thought. The rest of the trip down the crooked Old Furnace Road and to the old house he called home was uneventful.
Monday morning found Michael at Wal-Mart. He filled out the required employment papers, watched the required company information videos, and one hour later, was greeting shoppers at the front door. And he liked it.
At break time, a woman came up and relieved him. “You need to be back in fifteen minutes,” she said, and he was off to the break room.
“Well, hello, you must be Michael, the new greeter,” said a smiling woman in her late forties. Then she gave him a big hug. “God loves you, and so do I.”
To say the least, Michael was pleasantly surprised. It had been a long time since the old bachelor had felt the milk of genuine human kindness. The woman continued, "I'm Mary, Mary Miltenberger. I'm glad to meet you."
Mary was friendly to everyone and always ready to tell you about Jesus. Michael found her a little pushy at first, but there was no denying the love she had for others. He could see it in her eyes. You can’t fake that, and he soon grew used to Mary just as she was. From then on, Michael looked forward to seeing her at break time. And sometimes she’d bring brownies. He had never tasted brownies like she made. They were beyond delicious.
Two months later found Michael still enjoying his job at Wal-Mart, but he could feel the strength leaving his body. Mary had given him two books to read, a Living Bible and The Case for Christ by Lee Stroebel. He thanked her and spent his free time reading them. Michael knew he was dying. He could feel it. He wondered how many other people never came to grips with dying. They simply go on in denial that they would ever die, and then do just that. Mary told him all about how Jesus died on the cross and paid the price to ransom us from our sins and death. And one day, as he sat on the porch of the old house, he made his peace with Jesus. Michael could hardly wait to tell Mary the good news. When he saw her at work, he told her all. She said, "I knew it. There was something different about you. I saw life in your eyes."
And then she welcomed him into God’s fellowship with a big hug as only Mary could give. Others in the store commented on Michael's spirit even as they could see him getting weaker.
Two weeks later, Michael went to Fort Ashby's only attorney and drew up a will and last wishes. He wanted his body cremated and his ashes scattered in Israel. His nephew Mike was to get the farm after he completed this final request of his Uncle, and only then. The attorney would take care of all cremation arrangements and get
necessary papers for transporting the remains on the airlines and through Customs here and in Israel.
One week after that, Michael notified the local bank he needed to withdraw fifty thousand dollars from his account. They had the money ready for him at the designated time. Shortly afterward, the Catholic Church in Fort Ashby, where Mary Miltenberger worshiped, and the synagogue in Cumberland both received a package containing fifty-one hundred dollar bills.
Another 40 churches of various denominations reported getting mail containing ten one hundred dollar bills each. The local paper picked up the story of the generous anonymous donor and spread the good news. Michael smiled when he read the story and hoped his ill-gotten wealth could do some good. Six days later, while at work, Michael felt pain, bad pain in his chest. He sat on the bench near the door. Mary was working the floor that day, and she saw his distress and went to him. "Michael, are you all right?" she asked.
He looked into those eyes of love, the eyes of an angel he believed. “Yes, Mary, because of you, I am.” And then he died in the comforting arms of Mary. He had gone to meet his Savior.
Another lost sheep had been brought back home by a woman working in her mission field.
Chapter 32
You could have knocked Mike over with a feather when he got the call from the lawyer in Fort Ashby, telling him he was the benefactor of his Uncle Michael's will. They had never been close. He had only seen his uncle a few times in his adult life, but then there really wasn't much family left. Most of them had died in the Holocaust in Europe during World War II. The lawyer asked him to come to his office to sign some necessary papers. He showed Mike his uncle's will. He was to receive all of Uncle Michael's worldly possessions after he took his remains on their last journey. Uncle Michael wanted his cremated remains scattered in Israel. Mike agreed readily.
The lawyer purchased airline tickets and completed out the final paperwork the various federal agencies required for transporting human remains. A week later, Mike found himself sitting in a Continental Airlines 767 bound from Newark, New Jersey, to Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, Israel. He observed the other passengers on the plane. Some were obvious Christian tourists going to the Holy Land. Others were Hasidic Jews of various flavors with had beards of different sizes. Some had side curls. The men all had head coverings. Some wore kippas that looked like beanies. Others had hats of different styles. Several reminded him of Indiana Jones's fedoras. Sitting next to him was a clean-cut man of about thirty. Mike noted him also looking over the four hundred plus passengers on the plane. He noticed Mike doing the same. "Hi, my name's Sam. What's yours?" the clean-cut man asked.
“Mike, Mike Levy,” he replied. “What are you goin’ be doing in Israel?”
“I’m in the reserves,” he answered. “My outfit will be practicing maneuvers with the IDF, that’s the Israeli Defense Forces. And you?”
Mike said, “Thank you very much for your service to our county. What am I doing in Israel? My uncle died, and he wanted his ashes spread in the Holy Land.”
Sam said he was sorry to hear of his uncle's passing. How long would he be in Israel? Where was he staying while there? Mike said he did not know where he was staying, but he would be coming back after two full days there. Sam said he had been in Israel before. He could catch public transportation, Egged Bus Lines, at the airport, and go to a place that rented rooms just outside of Jerusalem. The buses passed by regularly for an easy connection anywhere in the country. And the rooms were reasonable and clean. Mike thanked him for the information, and they chatted for a while longer. The movie came on the screen, and they began to watch it.
It wasn't that good, and Mike soon fell asleep. Hours later, he awoke. From the movement of the airplane, he could tell they were descending. Sam, sitting next to him, spoke, "Man, you were sleeping like the dead. It won't be long until we are at the airport."
So it was. Soon, they landed and were in a line for processing by Israeli Customs.
It was now Mike’s turn. “Passport,” the Customs man said in English. “How long will you be staying, and what will you be doing here?”
“I’ll be here today and tomorrow and leaving the following day for home.” Mike handed him the necessary papers for carrying his uncle’s remains. “And I will be scattering my uncle’s ashes here in the Holy Land. It was his last request.”
The young man frowned. “It would be best if you did not do this in a cemetery. The Orthodox could cause trouble for you. It’s not their way. And they can be nasty when they don’t get their way. What transport do you have while here?”
Mike told him of his plans to use the public bus transport while here. The young officer thought for a minute and said, "I know of place just outside of the town around Jerusalem, where you could scatter the remains. It's near a bus stop with regular service every half hour. It is on the side of a hill overlooking the Judean Wilderness and the Dead Sea. The hills are covered with golden brown grass."
“That sounds like parts of California,” said Mike.
"Yes, it’s very similar," the young man said. "That's where I grew up before I made aliyah. When I get homesick, I go out there. It is peaceful. Your uncle would like it, I believe."
The young soldier gave Mike instructions on how to get there from where he was staying, and soon, Mike was on an Egged bus heading for Jerusalem. He gave the driver who spoke some English a five-dollar bill, told him where he wanted to get off, and got change in Israeli coins. After several stops along the highway, the bus stopped again, and the driver yelled and motioned to Mike that this was his departure point. He exited with his burdens and walked about one hundred feet to the building that Sam had described. Yes, the owner said they had rooms. They were as Sam had described. Mike put his things in the clean but utilitarian room. Kinds of like an Israeli version of Motel 6. Spend a night, not a fortune.
He studied the brochure he got on the bus for the schedules and routes.
He had plenty of time today to go by bus to the place overlooking the Judean Wilderness the Customs man had told him about. Mike left the building, walked to a small sidewalk vendor selling falafels. There was no line at the kiosk on the busy street. He got one and bit in. It was nothing to write home about. He choked it down and ran to the bus stop to catch a bus that had just arrived. Mike carried a large bottle of water and the box containing his uncle's ashes in his pack hanging from his shoulder. Soon he was changing buses at the Central Bus Station in Jerusalem. It wasn't but a half-hour drive to the place in the Judean Wilderness.
He got off the bus and looked around. It was as peaceful and starkly beautiful as had been described. Uncle Michael would like this place, he thought. Mike stood quietly and looked off to the east toward the hills in Jordan on the other side of the Jordan River. The wind moved the short grass on the eroded, rocky hill slopes in waves. Mike basked in the harsh desert beauty for about five minutes. After that, he reached into the pack, removed the box containing the ashes, took the lid off, paused slightly, and threw the ashes with the wind. He stood motionless for what seemed a long minute.
Yes, Uncle Michael would have liked this. Mike sat down on the bench facing the wilderness at the bus stop and enjoyed the solitude broken only occasionally by a vehicle that soon disappeared over the hills. A bus came ten minutes later, and Mike got on. One hour and a half later, Mike was turning the key to his room. He took a quick shower and went to bed. It had been a full day, and he'd done what he'd come to do. Tomorrow he would do some sightseeing. What could he learn of what being Jewish meant? But now he was tired, exhausted.
Jet lag had set in. He went to the small bathroom, brushed his teeth, and used the funky water-saving toilet. After that, he turned to the small sink, poured some water, and drank it down. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror. Lucky dog, he thought. You're going to have your own place when you get back to the USA. He smiled slightly, turned, and walked to the single bed in the corner of the spartan room. Slowly, he sat down on the bed and rolled ov
er on his side. He could hear the traffic on the street just outside the old building. In a short time, he was sound asleep, snoring, and dreaming dreams he would never remember in the morning.
Chapter 33
Mike rose late that morning. The jet lag seemed to be gone, but he knew the trip back would give him another case of it. He dressed quickly and headed out the door. There were no restaurants nearby, only the falafel booth guy, and he didn't seem to be busy though there were lots of people on the sidewalks. Mike could see an Egged bus coming in the distance, so he ran to the stop. He would find something to eat later. Besides, the little food booth hadn't been very satisfactory. He had gotten heartburn.
Shortly he was at the Central Bus Station. He had to run if he wanted to catch the bus he was looking for, the one they called "The Time Elevator." It was getting ready to leave. Line 99, a 3000-year journey through the history of Jerusalem, read the sign on the bus side. He didn't want to miss it. Passengers could get off and then back on at any of twenty-five historical sites on the route in the city without limit. Mike had only this day in Jerusalem, and he wanted to use it wisely. Much of his valuable time had already passed.
The bus went by many ancient buildings and some modern ones, but all made with the same stone, Jerusalem stone. He caught his first glimpse of the old city wall near the New Gate. The bus continued on its route, stopping regularly at various sites, several of them being modern high rise hotels. It rounded many turns in this ancient city built on steep hills and valleys. On the Jericho Road, the bus stopped near the Lion's Gate, and Mike got off. The bus pulled back into traffic, and Mike stood on a busy sidewalk bustling with tourists and towns' people. To his left was the Kidron Valley, and behind that, the Mount of Olives, now covered in Jewish tombs. He saw several beautiful churches, one Greek Orthodox and another with the sign that read, "Church of All Nations." To the south was the walled up Eastern Gate, also known as the Golden Gate, where the Messiah would enter the city at the chosen time.