Wed. Words: Emily at Church

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“There’s a storm comin’!  I tell you a storm!” Pastor Grimley yelled, pounding the pulpit.  “ARE YOU READY?”

The congregation shouted Amen, Praise the Lord…waking Emily from her nap on the pew.  Mama was standing, being one of the Amen group.

Emily rolled and then planted her chubby little feet on the maple floor.  The walking thing was still iffy, but she had the crawl-ing down.  Distance to the pulpit wasn’t far at all, and at a fast crawl, Emily could cover it before Mama noticed.

And, off she took, under pews, between legs, around feet, past purses.  Oh, Emily knew she was fearless, and this would be another time she found freedom, with her white diaper bottom wagging behind.

“Can you make a joyous noise to the Lord??” Pastor roared. Cue the organist, who joined in with a chorus from different hymns.

Emily reached the pulpit and pulled herself up, pounding on the cross.

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“Root out sin!  Let joy rise as a fragrance to the Lord!” He raised his arms, pointing to heaven.

Emily plopped down on her bottom, onto a loaded and ripe diaper.  You betcha!  Emily clapped and cooed as Mama came running.

Thank you, Elephant's Child for provided the bold underlined italicized words!  She tosses 6 to 12 words out at writers to take up a challenge in their writing each week.  Go to her site and check her comments!

The Last Campout

Trees? Please?

A wall of old camping gear stares at me every time I do laundry.  Covered with dust, it reminds me of our very last camp out--a sad and memorable event.

Our church planned a big camp out, starting Friday night to Sunday morning, with a big potluck on Saturday evening.  One of the church ladies had a brochure on a nearby camp site, which showed towering trees, people playing volley ball, kids swimming, etc.  It looked marvelous.

Talk about untruth-in-advertising.  After checking in, we went to our assigned spot.  Where were the trees?  Gone, all gone.  In their places stood spindly plantings.  The pool? Drained for repairs.  The volley ball court? About ¼ mile, at the far stretch of camp.

The saddest thing of all was the sewage back-up in the only shower and toilet facilities. Four toilets, each backed up, with toilet paper pieces covering the floor. Fortunately the campgrounds were spotted with Spanky’s Porta-Potties, which were nearly full.

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Saturday night was about 90° and at dusk, the air started to cool.  We were each assigned food to bring, which for us was salad thankfully.  

The number of entrees was thin, but some cheerful church lady brought a huge cauldron of her special recipe chicken stew.  “You’ll just love this!” she exclaimed as she ladled it out. My husband accepted his portion, while I passed it by, and headed to the tray of cold cuts.

Most of the campers settled into their tents, while others stayed up around the campfire, singing praise hymns, without ceasing.

Around 10 pm, my husband leaped up and ran out; I could hear him retching in the brush.  There were so many others doing the same. He returned to the tent, saying “We’re leaving. Now.”  

With Spanky’s Porta-Potties by now full to the brim, there were no other viable options where to vomit or allow one to relieve one’s bowels.

Serving the needs of the public

 We gathered or grabbed valuables, leaving the tent standing, and raced to our home, about thirty miles away. It was a rough night.

My husband returned early the next morning to pack up the tent and sleeping bags.  He said many others had done to same.

Since then, we have converted from roughing it to staying in a motel.  Things change; the memories remain.

Great War

The Boys Went Marching...

The last time Hannah saw Gerald was the day he rode the train out with hundreds, maybe thousands, of boys in uniform.  Fight the Great War…Be home by Christmas! Hannah blew kisses and waved as if her arm needed to go with him.

All the other new brides gathered at the church hall to roll bandages and pack toiletries.  Murmurs echoed across, up, and down from the vaulted ceiling.

“Why, my Joe said that Paris is grand, and some day he will take me there!  He writes to me every day, you know.”  Melissa wrapped bandages, her eyes lost in dreams.  Long white strips draped over her rounded belly.

Beginning of War from Above

In the circle of young brides. Hannah was alone with a flat belly. Letters from Gerald came every day, but were grim and spotted with mud.  His words she would not share with the round-belly brides.  They needed their dreams, while Hannah needed truth.

Christmas came and left, church bells rung and carols sung. Then another Christmas slipped by unnoticed.

Brides, now weathered lonely wives, still met at the hall.  While toddlers chased around, mothers wrapped and wrapped rolls of white cotton.  The young faces once wreathed with smiles now reflected strain of another year gone by.  Letters grew fewer and all waited for the one letter they did not want to receive.

Then.  It ended.

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Australia; women watching for their boys to come down the gangplank

The “boys” came home; some had left legs and arms behind; some remained, buried in graves in France, near the ocean.  Boys now men-- some shivered at every loud sound, while others were stoic, with distant haunted eyes.

Gerald held Hannah gently.  “It was awful, never seen anything like it.”  Hannah settled her face into the fragrance of Gerald’s wool uniform.

She whispered into the wool.  “I knew you would come home, just knew it.  And, I will never let go of you.”

Ever.

World War 1 is the often-forgotten war.  Its veterans are now gone.  Honor them.