I now know what kind of man Samuel is. Edward’s enlistment, as awful as it is, in a small way is a blessing. At least the relationship was severed while it still could be. If I had married Samuel Ward, goodness knows how my life would have turned out.
She carried the wood across the yard and then into the kitchen.
“Thank you, dear,” her mother said as she laid it in the box. “You should hurry now and change.”
Julia wiped the front of her dress. Wood was wood, yes, but her yellow day dress wasn’t that dirty. “Why?” She asked.
“For the prayer meeting, of course.”
Julia had no idea what her mother was talking about. “What prayer meeting?”
Esther gave her a quizzical expression. “Reverend Perry called for a prayer meeting today at noon. He announced it yesterday at the end of the service.” She paused, the corner of her mouth revealing just the hint of a smile. “Weren’t you listening?”
Julia could tell by the look on her mother’s face that she did not need to answer that question. Her embarrassment for not giving her full attention to the Lord was only surpassed by the humiliation that her mother knew exactly why she hadn’t been listening.
Samuel had been distracting her.
All that she could fully remember of the worship service was that Reverend Perry’s prayers were not well received.
“The congregation is so divided,” Julia said. “After yesterday it is a wonder that he would even call such a meeting.”
“That is exactly why he is doing so. Hurry now. Change your dress. Your father will be home shortly.”
Julia went upstairs to make herself ready. She wondered what this meeting today would involve. One thing she was certain of, she would not be distracted by Samuel Ward this time.
By scheduling the event during the noon hour the Reverend surely hoped to draw folks on their lunch break. Samuel would never be able to make it from the seminary in Rolland Park all the way to the church on Charles Street and back in one hour.
I will be free to pray for my brother’s safety and for the concerns of my city without his disapproving eye.
Her father returned from his morning rounds and the family started off. Julia rode mostly in silence, eyes drifting from one house to the next. There were no visible markers but she knew many of these homes had a son or brother who had chosen to fight.
Bless them, Lord. Bring them home soon.
When the carriage rolled past one of the local taverns, several Federal soldiers were standing outside. Julia made the mistake of looking at them. One man had the audacity to wink at her. Clutching her Bible tightly, she focused her eyes on her father’s stovepipe hat.
Her hands were trembling. All she could think of was that day at the train station, when Federal gunfire nearly led to her being trampled and sent eleven of her fellow citizens off into eternity.
The bell chimed the hour as Dr. Stanton brought their carriage to rest in front of the church.
“Come now,” he said as he helped Julia and her mother to the street. “We mustn’t be late.”
As eager as she was to be safely inside, Julia was not ready to endure divided seating arrangements and political barricades. When she stepped into the sanctuary, however, only Reverend Perry was present.
“Thomas!” the man said, immediately coming up the aisle to greet her father. “And ladies…how good of you to come.”
“I had several visits to make this morning,” Dr. Stanton said. “I feared we would be the last to arrive.”
“On the contrary,” Reverend Perry said. “You are the first.”
Julia glanced around. Though grateful there were no icy glares or judgmental remarks, her heart still sank. Will we be the only ones? Isn’t there anyone else who will pray for this city? For our brave men?
She brushed away the discouraging thoughts and lifted her chin with determination. I will do so. I will pray for Edward and for Baltimore.
If Reverend Perry was disheartened by the lack of attendance, he did not reveal it. He quickly led Julia’s family to the front pew and started the service.
“Let’s begin with a hymn.”
Without the benefit of pipe organ or additional singers, the four of them joined in singing, “How Firm a Foundation.”
The meager voices barely filled the space between the walls but Julia reminded herself that where two or three were gathered, God himself was in attendance.
They finished the hymn and sat down.
Reverend Perry then prayed. He did exactly as he had done before, praying for the safety of the city and for the protection of all soldiers involved in the war. When he fell silent, Julia’s father carried on. With heartfelt sincerity he prayed for the congregation. He asked that they would be able to put their political differences aside in order to present the gospel of Christ.
Though he did not mention the man by name, Julia wondered if he was not thinking of Warren Meade. Her nerves bristled as she remembered his words. She stiffened even further when she thought of Samuel’s clear unwillingness to defend her brother’s good name.
Edward seeks to protect us from danger, from the tyranny of those Federal soldiers. Samuel would simply let them have their way.
Julia did not lift her voice in public but she did pray silently for Edward’s swift return. She then remembered the citizens who had been injured on Pratt Street.
And for them and their families, Lord…please comfort them. Please don’t let such a thing happen again!
She heard her mother’s voice. Somewhere near the end of the prayer, the back door opened. Footsteps quietly, rhythmically came down the aisle. They stopped midway. A pew then creaked.
Someone else has joined us! Oh thank You, Lord!
Her faith stirred and hope soared until she recognized the petitioner’s voice.
“Lord, Almighty, thank You for hearing our prayers…”
Samuel! She clenched the lace handkerchief in her lap. How dare he come!
Any spiritual comfort she had previously felt evaporated. All she could think of was the man sitting just a few rows back; the one who had promised to love and protect her, yet, hadn’t the courage to do so.
He is probably here to wish for Edward’s destruction, to condemn all those who support States’ Rights!
She was so busy imagining what he was praying for that she failed to hear what he was actually saying.
“My sins, Lord… Forgive me for my sins.”
Though Sam had intended on coming to this meeting to pray for Edward, he could not get past the need to confess his own faults to God. For too long he had simply gone about his life with his plans for the future, Julia, his teaching position, an honest but comfortable life here in Baltimore.
He had never once considered God may have other things in mind.
Frederick Douglass’s experiences flooded his thoughts.
The man in his autobiography had shown owners whipping and cursing their slaves while simultaneously quoting Scripture to them. He also told of plantation owners who bowed their heads each night at supper to thank God for their food only to then turn around and starve the very hands that had farmed it.
The former slave explained that he loved the Christianity that