When Weaver Reitz was born in Lancaster, Pa., on Oct. 6, 1919, the doctor did not expect him or his mother to survive. She was sick with influenza during the epidemic that took the lives of millions worldwide between 1918 and 1920.

“I guess God had some purpose . . . that he brought us both through it,” Reitz said in an interview at his home in Willow Street, Pa.

Still living independently at 104, Reitz is grateful for the many times he has felt God upholding him.

When he prayed to know how he might serve God after turning 100, he heard a specific answer — as he has throughout his life, including when he resisted pressure to serve in the military during World War II.

Reitz’s first job out of high school was with Hubley Manufacturing Co., which made metal toys and other items. There he learned how to make patterns from which to cast the toys.

He even suggested a formula to make toys from a combination of fine sawdust, wheat flour, wax, borax, whiting powder, oil and water when the metal grew scarce. The specific quantities and ratios, Reitz says, came from the Holy Spirit; he merely wrote the formula down and shared it with the company. The formula was successful, and no adjustments were ever needed.

His patternmaking skills put him in high demand during World War II, when a military recruiter offered him work on a ship. The recruiter told Reitz he would not need to complete basic training or carry a gun.

When Reitz refused, the recruiter pulled a paper with questions out of his pocket and demanded Reitz answer them without preaching a sermon.

“King David was a man after God’s own heart, and he fought wars,” the recruiter said. “Do you think you’re better than King David?” The recruiter demanded to know how he would respond if someone threatened his family.

Reitz does not remember how he answered. He wishes he did. But, as he put it, his mouth opened, and his voice spoke. He has no explanation except the Holy Spirit.

Furious with Reitz’s answers, the recruiter changed Reitz’s status — a 4-F medical exemption because of a hernia — and said Reitz would be called to duty.

Then the recruiter started attacking Reitz personally. “We ought to round up you COs and ship you up to the Canadian wild, someplace you can get lost and nobody can find you,” he said. The recruiter told Reitz he wasn’t worth the air he was breathing.

Reitz was indeed called up for service, but he was granted conscientious objector status and sent to Civilian Public Service, the alternative service program for COs, for which he was grateful.

He received orders to report to Camp 45 in Luray, Va., in 1944. The camp was in the Shenandoah National Park. Projects for CPS men included clearing brush for a fire trail and filling holes in the road with stone. Reitz helped until the foreman learned he had a hernia. After that, Reitz was assigned to other work.

One task was to repair the electric potato peeler. CPS camps depended on the support of Mennonite Central Committee for food and electric power. Once, when the money was low, the men ate only potatoes and milk for a while. The camp had about 160 men, so the potato peeler was a necessity.

After Reitz took apart the peeler, fixed it and plugged it in, the cook heard a welcome noise. “He grabbed it and ran up to the kitchen really quick,” remembered Reitz. “That was the last I saw the potato peeler.”

Reitz was at Camp 45 from 1944 to 1946. During his time there, he repaired other things, including a water pipe and the camp’s washing machine.

Released from CPS, Reitz returned to Lancaster County, where he found another job at Hubley. When supervisors asked him to make toy pistols and join a labor union, he quit, as this was against the rules and expectations of Lancaster Mennonite Conference.

He and his wife, Helen, decided to buy a farm. Reitz remembers it as “a good place to raise a family.”

Reitz farmed for 33 years. After the farm was sold, he and Helen volunteered with Christian Aid Ministries, the relief organization supported by conservative Anabaptists, and helped to package food and sort donated eyeglasses. Together they also made comforter tops. In 2017, they celebrated 75 years of marriage. Helen died in 2018.

When he turned 100, Reitz prayed, “God, is there some way I can serve you, even in my old age?”

He got an answer when he sensed God wanted him to make more comforters. He even received specific instructions on what the comforters should look like, including a center square with the words, “Jesus loves you.”

Reitz cuts squares of fabric almost daily and sews them using a machine in his basement. When the comforters are finished, he sends them to local charities, such as Water Street Mission in Lancaster. Some of his five children, 17 grandchildren, 36 great-grandchildren and five great-great-grandchildren join him in the work. The family completes an average of one comforter a week. ­Reitz is a member of Byerland Mennonite Church, also in Willow Street.

Reitz still uses the patternmaking skills he learned in his youth. His granddaughter found a medallion with John 3:16 printed on it. She asked if Reitz could make copies, and he created a mold. Over a period of nine years, Reitz made 13,915 replicas of the medallion. He gives the medallions to missionaries to distribute.

Reitz has desired to be faithful to God all his life. He has felt God guiding him through good and bad times. “The Holy Spirit is our friend,” he said.