On Zion's Hill

  because Thy promise I believe,

  O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

  Surrounded by His beauty, suffused in His majesty, reminded of His Love and welcome, Angie releases her anxiety to the Lord, acknowledging, “Yes, Lord, I’ve been anxious. Worried about much that is frivolous. I’m so glad You know me, love me, and understand that my truest desire is to be welcomed, pardoned, cleansed, and, yes, relieved.

  “I’ve got to really trust You with all my heart and stop leaning on my own understanding. ‘Cause I obviously don’t understand what’s going on right now. I guess, I’ll just have to be on the lookout for Your leading and directing my path, accept and follow that.” She breathes deeply, and exhales slowly, releasing a little more anxiety with each exhalation.

  “Thank you, Lord, for meeting me here on this hallowed hill. Hallowed, not just because the Brothers and Sisters of Love so many years ago prayed that all who come to this camp meeting will be blessed. But hallowed today because You’re here. You’re here with me, and I thank you for it. Thank you, dear Lord. I just thank you so very much.”

  Cleansing tears peek from her eyes and leak down her cheeks. Angie sings along with the organ notes that float through the air.

  Just as I am, Thy love unknown

  broken every barrier down;

  now, to be Thine, yea Thine alone,

  O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

  Angie stands and stretches. Her Bible still clutched in one hand, she raises her hands above her head in a gesture of both openness and acceptance.

  No need to read from the printed page this time. Verses she’d memorized as a child have ministered to her heart. The manuscript inscribed as trees and flowers have spoken God’s Word into her mind. The music hovering around her and the lyrics inside articulate for her, as surely as reading from a text, that she is a beloved child of God and that she can trust that all will be well with her today. All will be well.

  STRIDING DOWN THE HILL, glancing at her watch and recognizing that although she has less than half an hour to change clothes and grab something to eat, Angie still slows down a bit, to savor this time with the Lord.

  She’ll get to the playground in time to help set up snacks for this last day of Children’s Church before heading over to help Stella at the stand. Today they’ll have a colorful tablecloth and small favors to remind the little ones of the lessons they’ve been learning this week.

  Fred and Sharinda always pick just the right trinket – nothing expensive, but something to symbolize the message of the week. What a blessing to work with them. Angie prays that when these young ones get into a situation similar to hers today that the Bible verses and songs they’ve been taught in Children’s Church will arise in their consciousness to strengthen them for their journeys.

  11 - Friday Morning - In the Garden

  ACROSS TOWN, Ken returns from his run totally fatigued instead of fully recharged as he usually is after such a workout. Perhaps spending time up at the garden will do it for him. Get that woman off his mind. It’s dragging him down and raising doubts about what he had heard from the Lord. He knows what he is feeling in his head, but his heart doesn’t agree.

  He sheds his shoes, shucks his smelly shirt, and rinses off at the outdoor water spigot. There’s no reason to take a full garden hose shower since he’ll be getting all sweaty again in just a little while. Still, his mother won’t like his coming to breakfast stinking up that end of the trailer. So, maybe a spray with the garden hose is in order.

  “Good morning everybody,” he says reaching back to keep the screen door from slamming behind him. “What’s for breakfast?”

  His mother points to the rooster on the cereal box.

  “Not corn flakes and bananas…again.” That’s about all they’ve had this hot and humid summer. His mother claims she’ll melt and ooze out the door if she has to prepare hot meals…especially on days she is going to can.

  Well, today is canning day, so today’s breakfast is corn flakes and bananas, again. Ken reaches over his mother’s shoulder to get a bigger bowl from the cabinet behind her. She leans to the right, while pointing that she’d already put his bowl out. Ken frowns at that little soup bowl. It didn’t hold enough to even waste time sitting down to eat from it.

  “Mom, you know I eat my cereal out of this white bowl. I have been since high school,” he reminds her as he sets the large vegetable serving dish at his place and begins pouring the orangy brown flakes into his bowl. The flakes only fill half the bowl. Ken shakes harder…only crumbs left. “Mom, can I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to round out my breakfast?”

  “Ken, do you still have hollow legs? I thought you’d fill them in while you were in the service or at least at that school you’re going to now. I didn’t imagine you’d still be eating so much now that you’re a grown man.”

  “Ah, Mom. I’m hungry. You know I got out and ran this morning, and I’m getting ready to go up and finish picking the green beans for you. I gotta eat something to keep up my strength. You don’t want me fainting out there in the field all by myself, now do you?”

  “Of course, not Ken. But you eat as much as the three of us put together! We can hardly keep up with grocery shopping since you came home this summer.”

  “Oh, Mom. I’ll be gone in a week, and you guys’ll be able to get back on your budget. I get my last check from camp this week, and I’ll go shopping before I leave next weekend.”

  She bows her head, ashamed she’s mentioned the matter. Ken apologizes.

  “I didn’t mean to be a burden to you all this summer. I’ll be gone soon, okay?” By this time, Ken has finished slicing his banana and poured the last of the milk on his half bowl of corn flakes.

  DURING HIS FIRST COUPLE OF MONTHS HOME, when he was working long hours at the plant, he’d been getting his meals at the little diner next door to the plant. He’d spent more than he intended, but getting back so late, he hadn’t wanted to be messing up the kitchen fixing himself something after the family already had eaten. They’d gotten so used to his not being around that they hadn’t shopped with him in mind.

  During the weeks at camp, his meals had been included, so he could understand Mom not knowing how much he ate daily. Still…he didn’t realize he was such a burden to the family. “After all, I am family,” he silently grouses as he hurries to finish the cereal. Corn flakes certainly aren’t very filling. Even with a banana!

  Noticing his silence, his mom apologizes. “Ah, Ken. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. But you do eat a lot! Of course, I’m glad you’re healthy and helping out since you’ve been home, and all. Don’t get me wrong. We’re glad you’ve got a job this summer and are going to college. We’re really proud of you.”

  Ken stops scarfing in the cornflakes and smiles. Mother continues,

  “Yes, and I know you’ve got to stay in shape for basketball, but, like I said. You’re virtually eating us out of a house and a home. We thought we’d have more saved to get the basement outfitted so we can move in there before winter. Oh well. It’s been this long. God’s taken care of us so far, and we’ll have to keep trusting Him, now won’t we?”

  Ken’s nearly finished the cereal and is tilting the bowl to get the last of the milk and wilted flakes before grabbing the peanut butter and jelly sandwich his mother has made for him while she talked and he ate.

  “Yeah, Mom. You and Dad really have disciplined yourselves not to take shortcuts on that house. Do you really think you’ll have the basement wired and the utilities in so you can move in this winter?”

  “Your dad believes we will. Some of his buddies from church, you know the Coopers and his crew, are coming next week to give us a couple of days. They’re all going up to the campgrounds for meetings this weekend. By the way, how’s it been for you this week? Do you find the camp meetings much different?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s really different after being away all this time. Before graduating and going to the Air Force, I wasn’t a Christian,
and so I didn’t really spend much time in the worship services up there. Back then, me and the guys just hung around and gawked at girls when we weren’t playing basketball.

  “This year, I’ve gone to service every day, except Wednesday, and, yeah, it’s different.” Yeah, in more ways than one. Angie. “The sermons have been pretty good. It’s great, too, to be singing the old songs.” He chomps on the sandwich, slowing to flick glucky bits from the roof of his mouth. Too bad there isn’t any more milk.

  “I went to Christian services on the base sometimes and attended some Sundays on campus when the team wasn’t traveling or hosting a game. But the music was different there. I didn’t realize how much I missed the songs I grew up with.”

  His mother starts clearing the table as Ken finishes the sandwich, wishing he had milk to wash it down. Instead, he reaches down to get some ice water out of the little refrigerator below the counter Just a couple of glasses of tasteless water, then off to the garden.

  “Will Dad be back soon? He said I can take the car up to the field since I’ll be bringing back the green beans. I can’t carry much stuff on that old Schwinn mutt bike I been riding all summer.”

  “Yeah, Ken. He said he’d be back soon. He’s going to stop and pick up some milk and bread on his way back. He should be here by eight or so.”

  Ken glanced up at the clock on the stove. Just a few more minutes. Also an hour since he’d thought about Angie. Good.

  “I hope so, ‘cause I want to finish up there before noon. There’s no shade up there you know. I wanna get back so I can get some studying done this afternoon before I get cleaned up for services tonight.” So he can see Angie.

  Ken gets up, aching to stretch, but there’s no room. He tries to decide whether or not to put on a fresh shirt to go work in the garden or to just wear the sweaty one he’d had on this morning.

  He hears the car in the gravelly yard, steps outside, and grabs the same shirt and pulls it over his head. The garden tools are stored in the lean-to up at the field, but the baskets to bring back the beans are in the shed next to the trailer, so he says goodbye to his mother and goes over to get the baskets.

  “Morning, Dad. Glad you’re back so I can get up there before the sun gets scorching hot. Thanks for letting me use the car, too. It’s still okay for me to use it this evening, too. Isn’t it?” So he can see Angie.

  “Yeah, I promised I’d be back, and here I am. I said you could use the car this week if you remembered not to drive too fast over that horrid road up to the campgrounds and get dings all in my car. I checked this morning. Didn’t see any, so I guess you been driving all right. So, yeah, you can use it today.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Ken replies, choking the urge to say, “I’m not a kid!”

  “I shouldn’t need it this afternoon, so you can have it earlier. Don’t forget you gotta fill up the tank, too.” He reaches in to pull the bag of groceries from the back seat.

  “Okay, Dad, and thanks. Thanks a lot!” Ken grimaces at his ungrateful thoughts earlier. He takes the keys his stepfather tosses, shoves the baskets into the trunk, crams a baseball cap down on his head, and gets into the car. No point risking sun stroke on this final Friday morning before he heads back to State College. “If you need the car this afternoon, I can take the lawn chair out to the shade tree back here and do my studying till you’re finished. Okay?”

  “That’s fine, Ken. See ya.” Dad switches the grocery bag into his left arm, opens the trailer door with his right hand, and leaves Ken to go about his work for the day.

  “Well, that’s done,” Ken says to the steering wheel as he backs out of the driveway, turns, and heads out towards the field garden. “I really didn’t think my coming home would be such a burden. I thought they’d be gladder to have me around this summer. It’s tough to be a grown man and a burden on my family.

  “Well, just one more week here and three more years at school, and I’ll be out of their hair for good. Maybe, I can find a job in another town or something next summer.” He settles into the seat, drapes his wrist across the top of the steering wheel, and drives listlessly up the highway.

  SOON, KEN REACHES THE TURN-OFF to the unpaved road leading up the hill to his uncle’s farm. To help his favorite sister, he had let Ken’s parents plant a garden when they moved into the projects. They had kept it up when they moved. So far they’d not had time to clear away enough rocks to till their own property for gardening. No big deal.

  Uncle has seen how hard his brother-in-law has been working to save for that house and truly admires him for taking time to go back to school to get a better job. Uncle said that the least he could do was to share what little he has. He’s never had much cash, but he does have land.

  Ken gripes to his mother sometimes about having to work up here this summer, but really he has rather enjoyed it. It gives him something physical to do, and it does help put food on the table. They’ve had fresh vegetables all summer, and it looks like his mother is doing a pretty good job of canning extras so that during the winter they’ll have good food to supplement store-bought groceries. Ken gets out of the car, strides over to the lean-to, and pulls out the garden hoe. He gets right to work. So he can finish and go see Angie.

  He chops weeds from the row of cabbage and three rows of collard plants. He stops, wipes the sweat from his eyes and wishes he’d remembered to bring the knit headband he wears when playing basketball, even though it’s probably rather crusty after the games yesterday. A cap blocks the sun but doesn’t absorb the water streaming down his face or keep salty drippings from stinging his eyes. He chortles when he remembers his mother and sister teasing one another about sweat.

  “Ladies don’t sweat; we perspire!” Mom would say looking up from the bread dough she was kneading.

  “Ladies don’t sweat; we glow!” Joann would interject as she pushed the vacuum down the hallway.

  “Ladies don’t sweat; we glisten!” styled Thia, standing with her hand on her hip watching them both.

  Right. Perspiring, glowing or glistening, the liquid saline secretions burn his eyes, and he wishes he had a sweatband!

  He turns at the end of the row and peers from under the bill of his cap at the long rows left to be weeded and decides he doesn’t have to do the beans since he is going to be stripping those plants today. He stoops to pull a couple of carrots, shakes off the loose dirt, and puts them in his pocket. He’ll rinse them off up at the well before he leaves. They’ll be his lunch. Mom won’t mind his eating a few carrots…especially if he doesn’t mention it. Just another week and he’ll be back on campus. Team meals are provided during the season. No need to worry about meals again till spring term.

  Images of slaves working in the cotton fields come to mind as Ken begins the next row. He even smiles when he remembers Gram’s expression, “You’ve got a long row to hoe.” It’s more than a figurative expression today. Of course he only has a couple dozen rows, not acres of field to be bothered with. Still, he does have a long row to hoe and had better get on with it.

  Soon, he is into a rhythm. Chop, pull, turn. Chop, pull, turn. Chopping the weeds, pulling them away from the plants, turning over the weeds so they’ll dry up and die. Chop, pull, turn. He hums as he works. Melodies from old Negro spirituals come to mind…nothing particular that he can identify, but he can almost hear the singing and sense how those songs soothed the souls of his ancestors forced to labor long and late through all the heat of the day.

  A COUPLE HOURS LATER, an exhausted Ken takes the time to re-stake the tomatoes and check the vines for tomatoes ripe enough for salad. A few are. He checks the cucumbers and zucchini. A few are ready to eat, so he adds them to his basket. On the way over to the shed, Ken will inspect the squash and pumpkins for the glossy green worms and those ghostly white ones. Of course, his mother expects him to peel back the mini umbrella leaves to see if there are worms hiding down there, too. She had planted marigolds nearby in hopes they’d repel the worms, but that didn’t seem to be helping
much. Nothing seems to keep all the pests away. So here he is flicking worms.

  All in all, the weather has been pretty good this summer. Ken has only had to hand water the garden a couple of times in mid-July using water from Uncle’s well. His uncle has inside plumbing now, but his well still is the place they go for water when they’re working outside.

  That well water is pretty good, too. Cold, rather crisp and always refreshing. Not like the reddish irony water they get down on their new property. They have to boil water before drinking it. Ken’s dad said they’ll have to install a Culligan water filter when they move into the house. Now, they have to put up with cleaning those rusty rings from the sinks and toilet!

  Ken guzzles a drink, rinses and eats the carrots, and then goes back to chopping weeds for another half hour or so. He needs another psalm to keep his mood from souring. Which one? What’ll do it for him this time? “This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” He repeats it a couple of times, like a mantra hoping that the words will wash over his soul and assuage the resentment he feels when he thinks about breakfast time this morning.

  Strange how the Enemy is bringing David’s imprecatory psalms to mind when Ken should be thinking more pleasant thoughts. “No, Satan, I’m not giving in to ingratitude and temptation to wish anyone harm. I will praise the Lord in Psalms.

  “This is the day, this is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice, I will rejoice and be glad in it!” he chants and de-worms the remaining pumpkin plants. “I WILL rejoice!”

  It’s nearly eleven thirty. Ken had better be picking green beans. He tramps back over to the car and hauls out another of the peck baskets he’s brought. He stands by the car, breathing a sigh of relief. He’s gone most of the morning without thinking about Angie!

  It’s getting so hot out here, and he grins. “I sure could use that glacier glare she was shooting my way last night.” With a smile, he grabs the edge of his tee-shirt, pulls it up to wipe his forehead and decides he’d better get busy if he is to have the car back by one as he promised his dad. Just in case he’s changed his mind.