Love is compelling. You know it when you see it. You know it when you feel it. At my first church service, I felt a deep sense of love. Love for me as a little person. 57 Seven years ago, I was a child with an old soul. I understood that following Christ’s message was a beautiful thing. My experiences in my youth provided me with a roadmap. No longer looking for the path, I found it. Treat others as I want to be treated. Turn the other cheek.

Fall is all around us. The beauty is dizzying. We search for Heaven while we are in the midst of it. It is the old saw that the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. Acceptance of a sense of place is rare. We are earthlings on Earth. We sow and reap. We gather the grain into our barns. We build bigger barns. Thanksgiving is coming. Baby Turkeys crossed the road on my way to the Woods. They were happy in their purpose and place. They are growing. I saw them in the summer, and they were smaller. They have a whiskey named after them. Their Thanksgiving is the joy of the Woods. They know their mama loves them. They are protected and safe from all harm.

How many of us feel unsafe? We are unheard and unseen, having no voice. We might be run over on the road if the cars do not slow down. We look to the lights of Halloween and the friendly scary blowmolds in our neighbors’ yards. I remember gathering candy with my blowmold pumpkin in Eldorado in the 60s. I was invited into a lovely home with mom and dad and the warm, inviting glow of the holidays. It felt safe. It had the joy of family. It had a sense of place.

The trees waved at the Old Man this morning. Their leaves released their grasp in multitudes. The long path yields the quickest results on the Walk-O Meter. Hills are good for burning calories. ‘I say there, OM, you are walking fast today,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘Have you a goal to attain?’ Mr. Badger asked. ‘When we arrive at the end of the long path, we will have Mr. Toad pick us up in the river boat,’ Mr. Badger remarked. ‘He loves messing about in boats,’ Mr. Badger said.

‘Ahoy mateys,’ Mr. Toad cried. ‘I am over here among the fall leaves,’ Mr. Toad laughed with gusto. ‘I was afraid I would be late to pick you chaps up as I had to stop and help Mrs. Hedgehog as her wheelchair tipped over in the mud,’ Mr. Toad explained. ‘Mrs. Hedgehog is in the boat with me,’ Toady smiled and danced. ‘She has brought a deck of cards and thought we might play a new game she has called Golf,’ Toady chuckled.

‘I don’t know what I would have done if Mr. Toad had not rescued me from the mud,’ Mrs. Hedgehog said with tears in her eyes. ‘Toady is a true gentleman and a credit to the church of England,’ Mrs. Hedgehog proclaimed. ‘The Weasel Family passed me by and called out cat calls to me as I lay in the mud,’ Mrs. Hedgehog noted. ‘They hooted and hollered and told me to call on my God to help me,’ Mrs. Hedgehog said. ‘Toady stopped and got his fine clothes dirty to extricate me from the mire,’ Mrs. Hedgehog explained.

‘Let us have a Halloween feast to commemorate Toady and Mrs. Hedgehog,’ Mr. Mole announced. The Old Man will read the proclamation,’ Mr. Mole said. ‘This will be a day above all days when the Christian Message of help thy neighbor was enacted in the Wood,’ Mr. Mole noted with pleasure. ‘No longer will the challenged among us be forgotten nor those without voice,’ Moley said as he wiped his spectacles clean.