Phoenix Rising

wild plants could be eaten and what plants would have medicinal value.

But even as a child he used to watch airplanes pass overhead and wonder about them. One day an Army helicopter landed in a field nearby. The occupants got out, opened the engine cowl, and made few adjustments, then closed the cowl, got back in, and took off. Jake knew, on that day, that he wanted to fly a helicopter. He also knew that such an ambition was not for an Amish boy.

When he was eighteen years old, Jake, like all other eighteen-year-old Amish, went through rumspringa, a period of time in which they were exposed to the modern world. Once this coming-of-age experience was over, the Amish youth would face a stark dilemma: commit to the Amish church—or choose to leave, which meant severing all ties with their community and family forever. Jake made the gut- wrenching decision to sever those ties.

Because of that, he was excommunicated from the church. Being expelled meant being shunned by everyone, including his own family. When he went back home, in uniform, after graduating from Officer Candidate School, his mother and father turned their backs and refused to speak to him. His sister shunned him also, but he saw tears streaming down her face and he knew it was not something she wanted to do.

After OCS, Jake went to college on the Servicemen’s Opportunity College program, getting his BA degree from the College of William and Mary in two and a half years. After that, Jake attended flight school, fulfilling his ambition to be a pilot. His love for flying was not diminished even though he had three combat tours: one to Iraq and two in Afghanistan. There he flew the Apache armed helicopter and was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross as well as the Air Medal with “V” device for heroic action against the enemy. He also received a Purple Heart when a shoulder-launched missile burst just in front of the helicopter, killing his gunner/copilot and opening up gaping wounds in Jake’s face, side, and leg. He managed to return to his base, but had lost so much blood that when he landed he passed out in the helicopter, not regaining consciousness until he was in the hospital. That was where he met the nurse, Karin Dawes, who was then a first lieutenant.

Jake had never married, partly because before he met Karin, he had never met anyone he wanted to marry. He had been giving a lot of thought to asking Karin to marry him, but with the nation in turmoil, he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.

Lancaster, Pennsylvania—Wednesday, March 14

It was the first leave Jake had taken in almost two years and because of that he had well over fifty days of leave time accrued. He took fifteen days, convinced Karin to take leave with him, but told her that the first thing he wanted to do was look in on his family if they would receive him. They flew to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and there, Jake rented a car for the drive to Lancaster.

“How long since you have been home?” Karin asked as they drove east on I-78.

“Twelve years.”

“Twelve years? That’s a very long time,” Karin said.

“Yes, it is. Even longer when you realize that the last time I was home my parents wouldn’t even speak to me.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Karin said. “What makes you think they will have anything to do with you now, if they didn’t before?”

“Over the last couple of years, my sister and I have exchanged a few letters,” Jake said. “She said that my dad has mellowed some.”

“What about your mother?”

“I’m my mother’s son,” Jake said. “I think she was as hurt by my father’s shunning of me as I was. But she must do what he says, so she had no other choice. Otherwise she would have accepted me back the very first day.”

“That brings up another question. Why are you going back now?”

Jake was silent for a long moment.

“Jake?” Karin repeated, not certain that he heard her.

“I don’t know that I can answer that question,” Jake said. “It is just something that I feel I must do. Especially now, with our nation on the brink of disaster.”

“I can understand that,” Karin said. “I hope things go well for you.”

“Karin, you understand why I can’t take you with me to meet them, don’t you? It would be . . .”

“Very awkward, I know. You don’t have to explain, Jake. I understand.” Karin reached her hand toward him and Jake moved his left hand to the steering wheel, then took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips.

They checked into a motel in Lancaster, and Jake brought their suitcases into the room. From his suitcase he removed a pair of gray, drop-front trousers, work boots, a blue shirt, a pair of suspenders, and a flat-brim hat. He stepped into the bathroom, and when he came out a moment later, the difference in his appearance was startling.

“What are you wearing?”

“Plain clothes,” Jake said.

“You look—very handsome,” Karin said.

“This is going to be hard enough without you teasing me,” Jake said.

“I’m not teasing,” Karin insisted. “You look very masculine and, I don’t know how to explain it, but, very sexy, in an earthy way.” She stepped up to him, then put her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers for a deep kiss.

“You’ve got me all hot and bothered,” she said.

“Can you hold on to that feeling until I get back?”

“It’ll be hard,” Karin said.

“I promise you, it will be,” Jake replied with a bawdy grin.

Karin laughed out loud. “That was a statement, not a question. But go on, do what you must do. I’ll find something to watch on television while you are gone.”

Jake held up his cell phone. “I’ve got my phone,” he said. “I’ll call you when I can.”

“I’ll be fine,” Karin said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Leaving the motel, Jake drove east on Old Philadelphia Pike; then, crossing the railroad, he turned left on Beachdale Road. Just before he reached the farm of his parents, he saw a large gathering of buggies and wagons parked at the Yoder farm. At first he wondered what was going on; then he saw that they were building a barn.

Jake stopped his car, and walked over toward the barn. They had just finished assembling the frame for one end and several were in position to lift it up.

“Wir brauchen jemanden, hier heraufzukommen und eine Hand zu verleihen,” someone called from the bare eaves of the barn.

It was the language of Jake’s youth, a request that someone come up to lend a hand.

“Ich komme,” Jake answered, and he scurried up one of the ladders, then got into position. Half a dozen ropes were thrown to the men on top of the barn frame, and Jake grabbed one of them, and pulled with the others as the end frame was raised into position.

Soon the framework of the barn was all in place and now the only thing that remained was to fill in the siding and the roof. There were at least twenty men working, so the barn was erected with amazing speed. After all the siding and roofing was completed, everyone grabbed a paintbrush and bucket of paint and, within three hours after Jake arrived, the barn had been erected and painted, and all the scrap lumber around it picked up and thrown into the back of the wagons.

During the time the barn was being erected, the women were preparing a meal, and now one of the women began ringing a bell. It was still too cold to eat outside so everyone tromped into the house, where tables had been set up in the dining room, the living room, and in the big, central hall.

It had been more than fifteen years since Jake was last in this house, but it could have been yesterday. Every piece of furniture, every wall hanging, was exactly as it had been the last time Jake was here. He remembered that he had been here for the funeral of the elder Yoder.

Moses Yoder gave the blessing.

“ Unser himmlischer Vater, I ask that you bless these wonderful people today for