To Make My Bread by Grace Lumpkin Page B

called him. And the Lord said Abraham must take his only son, even the son he loved, and sacrifice him to the Lord. So Abraham rose up early in the morning and cut wood and took some fire and went to the place he could see afar off, the place the Lord had told him. And up on the mountain he bound his son on the wood of an altar and took up a knife to slay him. But just in time the Lord showed Abraham a ram in a thicket so that Abraham could offer up the ram instead of his son. So the Lord blessed Abraham because he was willing to sacrifice his son that he loved.”
    The preacher closed the book with a snap. “How many of you,” he asked, “can say with a clean heart, ‘Here am I, Lord’? How many, while you’re working in your corn patch or sitting by your fire, or while you’re dancing your Chains and Under the Garden Gates can say, ‘Here am I, Lord,’ and feel that for the Lord you would sacrifice anything or anybody, your son or your dancing or your playing?
    â€œThere’s one amongst you,” he went on—and waited a moment, looking around at them all. “There’s one amongst you that calls figures and plays the music. He leads the young ones into sin. He’s old, nearing his grave, and ought to know better. Instead of playing for dancing he’d do better making his peace with the Lord.”
    Suddenly preacher Warren pointed straight at Granpap. “What will you say, John Kirkland?” He called out in a high voice.
    Emma gasped. All heads turned and all eyes stared at Granpap. The old man sat up straight and looked neither to the right nor to the left. He sat there like a rock with his blue eyes narrowed. He looked between the slits at the preacher.
    â€œWhat will you say,” the preacher repeated, “when the Lord calls you, John Kirkland, John Kirkland?”
    Granpap stood up. “I’ll say this” he answered, and John felt the bench under him shake with the sound of Granpap’s big voice. “I’ll say David danced before the Lord and he played on the cymbal and the lute—and if King David could then John Kirkland can. And that’s between him and his Lord. Now,” Granpap said, “John Kirkland’s not a-going to stay and be rebuked before his brethren.”
    The preacher’s hand fell to his side. Granpap edged his way past Fraser McDonald and Jim Martin into the aisle and walked to the door. What a meaning there was in the sound of his boots on the floor! How they said to the preacher at every step. “You can’t dictate to John Kirkland—and you can’t disgrace him before his kin and neighbors.”
    Everyone was looking at the place where Granpap had gone out of the door. Their heads were turned one way—away from the preacher. Then the heads came slowly around and neighbor was looking into neighbor’s eyes. Emma was not looking at anyone. She wanted to follow Granpap. Must she get up and go with everyone watching? She clasped her hands together and unclasped them, twisting the shawl in her fingers. Her indecision lasied only a second. Almost as soon as Granpap was out of the door she was on her feet.
    â€œCome on, John,” she whispered and taking Bonnie and John by the hands, she led them out of the door.
    And a queer thing happened that people talked about long afterward. Kirk McClure got up from the men’s side and followed Emma. The preacher trying not to notice began, “We must be willing to sacrifice like Abraham was willing to sacrifice . . . .”
    Not waiting to hear the rest, Ora McClure got up. Frank McClure met her in the aisle and they walked to the door. Behind them came their six children, for Ora had the seventh in her arms. Fraser McDonald came next and his wife. Like cattle going down to the stream to drink, all the others went until only Jim Hawkins and Basil and Minnie were left.
    Talking about it afterward, Ora and Emma agreed that this