Observations placeholder

A Grain of Mustard – by Jeanne Gardner as told to Beatrice Moore

Then came July 4, 1961, and all was changed. I was sitting in the living room watching television with my husband, and I heard the Voice speaking loud and clear. It said, "Jeanne, get a pencil and write this down."

 I sat rigid and looked around. There was no one else in the room but Spider, and he was intently watching television. I tried to forget what I thought I had heard, but the Voice spoke again, this time with even more authority: “Jeanne, get a pencil and paper and write this down."

 I jumped up and scurried around the room to do as I was told, then I began writing frantically. Suddenly the sounds from the television were blotted out completely, and I could hear only the Voice.

My husband came across the room and shook me. "Jeanne, what are you doing?" he asked.

I looked up, bewildered. "I don't know myself, Spider. Just leave me alone."

 I continued to write.

This was the first time I had heard the Voice clearly. It spoke of the Fourth of July. It told me of the terrible fate in store for Jack Kennedy, and that his name would go down in history along with the names of Lincoln and Washington.

 It told me that our country would again participate in a total war, but not before we were involved in five areas of international conflict. It told me also that we would be descended upon from the north, as if by a swarm of locusts. I was shaking as I wrote. I couldn't believe my ears, but I was driven to write down what I heard.

When I felt that I was losing control, the Voice said, "l am signing off now this fourth day of July in the year 1961 at ten-fifty-five p.m."

I stopped writing. There was no clock in our living room, and I wasn't wearing a watch. I looked over at Spider and asked him for the time. He looked at his watch and said, "It's five minutes until eleven," and I knew then that what I had experienced was real and not a dream.

The next day I heard the Voice again. Once more it spoke of Jack Kennedy and said the news would rock the nation. I began to sob softly. The Voice continued to speak, but in a consoling way. "Jeanne, child," it said gently, "I know that war and killing is a terrifying thought, but it is necessary. It is all part of a plan."

I listened, and I was frightened.