February 22, 1942
Sunday morning, Willard sat in the backseat of the family car with his left shoulder squeezed against the door. He whistled as he remembered last night. Audrey hadn’t jumped up to welcome him when he’d appeared next to her. But he’d sensed her emotion when he’d reached for her hand. She hadn’t pulled it away. She also hadn’t run from him when the movie ended. He’d wanted to throw his arm around her as they walked, but the wall he’d erected between them still stood from her side of the divide though the bricks started to tumble when he brought her the banana split with two cherries.
Since Roger had told him he’d been drafted, Willard had worked with him while avoiding thoughts about what came now. With Roger’s departure the nights filled with checker games in front of the fireplace would end. He would miss their easy camaraderie as they did the simple chores that kept the ranch running. And when he was honest, he was a little jealous that his friend would get to play role in the war that he couldn’t.
Willard faced a crossroads of his own making. As he examined his choices, he wanted to keep Roger and Audrey in his life. Somehow, he had to get rid of the weight hanging around his ankles since Andrew died.
He would do it. His other choice was self-imposed misery.
The car bounced to a stop in front of the church. Willard quickly wiggled out of the car and ran to open the door for Mother. When his sisters were out, he shut the door. Father pulled around to park the car, while Willard escorted the ladies to the church.
As he walked, he looked for Audrey, eager to see if her eyes would sparkle when she saw him.
Audrey hid in the fellowship hall until Dad found her.
“What on earth are you doing in here?”
“Helping with the fellowship-hour clean up.” Please don’t let him see through that excuse. She grabbed for a plate and cup to carry toward the kitchen area.
“Honey, you do too much cleaning and helping. It’s time to get into the sanctuary. Pastor Evans is ready to start the service.”
Audrey followed and prayed she’d wasted enough time to avoid talking to Willard. Her feelings were so jumbled after their time last night that she’d decided she was a fool. Only a fool would enjoy being with Willard so much. Only a fool refused to say no when he asked her to join him for a banana split after a movie he wasn’t invited to attend. She was a sucker for Willard and the way he made her feel safe and protected when he wasn’t confusing the Dickens out of her. Avoiding him was her only defense, but she didn’t want to.
Willard watched Audrey follow her father into the sanctuary. She held her back perfectly straight and looked straight ahead. She eased next to her father and sat with stiff posture as if something prickly tickled her throat. She never twisted her head or looked around. While she refused to look for him, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Yesterday he’d been desperate to find her. Today he was distracted by the sight of her.
As Pastor Evans approached the rostrum, Willard pulled his attention from Audrey and forced himself to listen. The pastor rearranged his papers on the surface and then opened his Bible. A shuffle rippled across the sanctuary as people reached for their Bibles or those tucked in the backs of the pews.
“This morning our text is John 15:12-14.” Pastor Evans paused while everyone found the passage. “There Jesus told those gathered, ‘My command is this: love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are My friends if you do what I command.’” Pastor Evans removed his glasses and tucked them on a shelf under the lectern. He gazed around the sanctuary and let the words linger before he continued.
“In Romans, Paul reminds us that Christ demonstrated God’s love for us when He died for us while we still lived in sin. He didn’t wait till we were clean and worthy to offer Himself in our place. He willingly laid down His life in exchange for ours. My friends, we live in a time when many are asked to consider this sacrifice. Many made that supreme sacrifice, some from our congregation. I wish I could tell you Andrew Johnson will be the sole local casualty, but I can’t.”
At his brother’s name, Willard leaned forward on the pew and tried to digest what he heard. The Bible’s words were clear. “Lay down your life.” What else could it mean than be willing to die as Jesus had? Pastor Evans continued as if he’d heard Willard’s question.
“Today I want to broaden our understanding. We make laying our lives down too narrow if we read it to mean the sole way to do it is to die for somebody else. God does not ask many to literally do that.
“Instead, I believe He meant we are to lay down our lives daily, in the many choices we make. And we are to make the decision to die to our own desires and wants out of our love for others. We are not to do it as martyrs, but out of hearts that love others more than we love ourselves. That we esteem them more highly than ourselves.” Pastor Evans paused and pulled a big handkerchief from his back pocket. He swiped it across his brow and upper lip before sliding it back in its place.
Willard watched Audrey shift in her seat. During the sermon, she’d grown increasingly agitated, as if she couldn’t sit a moment longer. Willard expected her to stand and leave at any second, and fought the same urge.
“Love. As usual, Jesus couches the hardest concept in a simple phrase. Love your brother enough to lay your life down for him. That’s all there is to it. But life removes the simplicity.
“Let’s look at the larger context, the larger passage. In John 15, Jesus gives us the illustration of the vine and branches. He is the vine, and we are the branches. We cannot expect to have the strength to lay down our lives, our rights, for others until we are firmly growing in a deep relationship with Christ. A superficial relationship is not sufficient. Without more, we will fail every time in our attempts to die, because we attempt to do it without the strength and love God gives.”
Pastor Evans continued, but Willard heard a buzzing sound. The world stopped as he considered the pastor’s words and what they meant. As he ruminated over the message, he didn’t like the implication it had for his life.
Audrey followed her brothers home and tried to dodge the snowballs they pelted at each other and any hapless bystander. Usually, she would have joined them in the game, but she couldn’t. The sermon weighed on her heart, so she focused on understanding why. Father, this uneasy feeling must mean I’m doing something wrong. Show me what it is.
After a snowball hit her squarely in the chest, she stooped and packed a snowball of her own. She threw it and watched it sail through the air and land on Robert’s right shoulder. He yelped, and she danced in a circle. “Don’t throw one at me unless you can handle it.”
Mama joined her as Dad ran ahead and pelted the boys. Audrey hooked arms with her, and they strolled down the street. After taking a deep breath, Audrey broke the silence. “Mama, how does the sermon apply to me? It’s not like I can go enlist or serve by laying down my life. Even though I would like to.”
Mama walked for a minute. As the pause lengthened, Audrey wondered what Mama’s answer would be and if she’d like what she heard.
“Audrey, are there opportunities here in North Platte where you can love others by serving them at your expense?”
“Yes. The Canteen is one. But why do I feel so much pressure not to spend time at the Canteen with the servicemen?”
“It’s not bad in and of itself, honey. But the reason you do it can become wrong if you feel you must do it. At the Canteen you get to serve soldiers and lift their morale. That’s a wonderful thing. But if you do it and exclude everything else because of it, you need to ask yourself why. You have a wonderful heart, Audrey. I am proud of you and the woman you are becoming, but don’t forget how to be still and rest.”
They reached home and rushed inside to warm up for lunch. Audrey listened to her family banter around the table. But her heart kept asking God one thing. Please don’t make me give up the Canteen. It’s the one worthwhile thing in my life right now, even if it may be for the wrong reasons.
Surely God wouldn’t ask her to give it up.