Time is blowing like the leaves of the fall trees. I was so happy to see it arrive and now it is almost a month old. When it is two months old it feels like winter. Much of our lives have enjoyable short pleasures. We have to be ready to strike while the iron is hot. We must reach for the brass ring before the carousel does another revolution. We drink the fresh milk before it curdles. My birthday is Friday. I will be 68. The truth of my age does not seem real until I look at my reflection in the mirror. Who is the old man grinning back at me. MJ and I were talking in terms of decades of experience. You have to posses some grey hair to have the discussion. I remember the Ice Storm last winter. Limbs and tree trunks are still lieing in the Woods. As I sit and ponder I hear loud thuds that tell me trees really do fall in the woods.

‘I will make a fantastic birthday cake for the Old Man,’ Mr. Mole said. ‘He is a good friend and communes with us well,’ Mr. Mole continued. ‘I like the cut of his jib and he smokes an aromatic pipe tobacco,’ Mr. Mole laughed. ‘He says it is Autumn Harvest but I think he has some Turkish Delight mixed in the bowl,’ Mr. Mole postulated. ‘He is a commical sort with his big new leather hat and my how many photos he takes,’ Mr. Mole laughed. ‘It seems he takes pictures of the same things each day,’ Mole danced about in glee. ‘The Old Man has a passion for the Woods and photography that is unparralled,’ Mr. Mole proclaimed.

‘The Old Man talks to the trees and they have a vibrant conversation,’ Mr. Bager observed. ‘The trees know the Old Man by name and greet him each morning in the heat of summer and the ice of winter,’ Mr. Badger noted. ‘I am bringing him a present of a antique compass as Old Man has little sense of direction,’ Badger winked and smiled. ‘He bandys about with no thought of where he is and no worries of when he will return,’ Badger laughed. ‘The Old Man underatands us and he is a member of our Community,’ Mr. Badger proclaimed.

‘I have the most elegant of walking sticks for Old Man,’ Mr. Toad said with aplomb. ‘He and I have much in common as we are both Renaissance creatures,’ Mr. Toad announced. ‘Old Man will look like a Prussian Priest with my Birthday Gift,’ Mr. Toad proclaimed. ‘After we enjoy Birthday Dinner at the Global Gourmet and quaff Dirty Martinnis at the Global Gourmet we will ride in my new Motor Car,’ Mr. Toad danced on one foot and then the other. ‘Old Man enjoys a ride in a convertable motor car as it reminds him of his youth with Neva J and Chet in 1963 when they rode in Neva J’s 1957 Chevy convertable,’ Toady sang.

‘Welcome to the Birthday Party of the Old Man,’ said Mr. Rat. ‘Old Man is our friend and he understands us,’ Ratty uttered. ‘He has a new Leather Outback Hat and a L.L. Bean shirt with snaps and a leather pocket cover,’ Ratty observed. ‘Old Man has a word to say,’ Ratty noted.

‘I am here by God’s grace and your goodwill,’ the Old Man said with a lilt. ‘I have seen good times and bad but this birthday with Jennifer and Jonathon MJ and Aaron is the heighth of my Birthday Joy,’ the Old Man proclaimed. ‘Another 68 is in order God willing and the creeks dont’s rise,’ the Old man laughed and danced the Hora…

A perfect fall day. The air is crisp and inviting. The Woods are alive with the sound of music. The wind is gusting at 20 mph. Leaves are in full color. A rainbow of nature’s rest time.. Soon they will blanket the Woods ground. Trees will wave their bare limbs at each other.

Leaf Peepers are driving about. Last October, Margo Jeff, MJ Aaron, and Jonathon were looking for Maine fall leaves. We found many, but none were better than the Woods. It feels like October in Maine today.

Church is good and a settlement for the spirit. The camaraderie of others on the same journey is comforting. We humans are alike. Our Halloween masks are artificial and can be removed. No matter our rhetoric, we spend most of our lives living in our heads. Fear of change mortality looks out of our eyes. We need look no further than nature for answers. Fall brings us a glorious end to a season of life. Then the winter winds blow. Is it all over for the woods? No, it is only a new beginning. So it goes for us humans. Our ride is joyful and sad. It is full of memories and heartache. We laugh and cry. We stand on the mountaintop and look down into the valley.

Sometimes our skin does not fit. We wonder if we need a new suit. We look in the mirror and do not recognize the face staring at us. Worried we were about making a living, we forgot to make a life. The new leaves will pop out of the limbs in the spring. They will think that no leaf has been there before them. They will call out with gusto to the brown leaves on the ground. ‘Where did you come from and where have you been?’ New Leaf asks. ‘I am here to change the Woods,’ New Leaf proclaims. ‘There has never been a leaf like me before,’ New Leaf laughs. ‘All give me your attention and I will show you how to be a leaf,’ New Leaf says.

The fall wind is blowing. Trees are tossing about like small plants. Leaves are falling quickly. The wind is announcing the coming of the rain. Cooler weather is making its approach. It is dry as dust. Soon the rain will fall. We look forward to the change. It is time for autumn weather. I have a red sweater ordered from L.L. Bean. I like red. The animals in the Woods feel the change. They know the wind better than we do. Unbothered by society, the badger and toad look for the beauty of real life. Not the faux life of riches and houses and lands. Not the life of one being the lord and master, and the others being vassals and serfs. The hope of working together for the common good is in the DNA of the ant.

The Bullfrog Quartet will sing this evening. They are practicing for a command performance. Each of the Bullfrog performers understands the value of the other. There is no greater singer nor lesser vocalist. Without each voice’s resonance, the harmony will be nonexistent. The Woods dwellers are excited about the Performance. They have been making apple pie and pumpkin cakes. There will be dancing and bobbing for apples. A hayride of human friends is coming. Ghost stories around the campfire. S’mores to eat and Mead to drink, courtesy of Frank N. Stein. He is bringing his son, Frank Jr. Frank Jr. is precocious.

It will be a no-stress Halloween event. Lay your troubles at the door and put on your party hat and your Mr. Spock ears. The Wind promises change. No more big I and little you. No more pecking order. Everyone has a seat at the banquet table. The forgotten ones will be there laughing. They feel welcome at home with a sense of place.

‘No kings among us this evening, just friends,’ Mr. Badger proclaimed! ‘Let the weak say I am strong,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘Let the little children come forward and lead us,’ Mr. Badger said with tears in his eyes.

Stress is hurting our health. We have been stressed for so long that we no longer recognize it in its Halloween costume. The Old Man watches from his perch in the Woods while car after car passes, looking at autumn leaves, while no one gets out to walk among the trees. No time for walking. We must get back to the busy business of living.

Even squirrels fall out of trees. Every adventure has its moments. There is the Thanksgiving Turkey to buy and the oyster dressing to make. We work to do the expected. The Christmas Trees are on display. There are the Hallmark Ornaments to buy. We are sleepy during the day and wide awake at night. Our little voices tell us what we missed during our sleepy day. We focus in the darkness. Tomorrow we shall be better prepared. When we dream, we are running and wake up out of breath. One day, we will stop and smell the roses. But then again, first we will have to plant them, fertilize them, and of course, water and protect them from an early frost.

‘One day at a time,’ the Old Man thought. ‘Most things are not challenging when you have done them for decades,’ the Old Man said to his companion. ‘Are you excited about Halloween? ‘ the Old Man asked. ‘There is going to be a Halloween Picnic in the Woods, the Old Man continued. ‘Will your friends join us in the revelry?’ the Old Man asked. ‘Mr. Frank N. Stein is bringing Mead and cigars,’ the Old Man winked. ‘Frank makes his own Mead,’ the Old Man laughed. ‘Frank and Wolfy run their own Mead House by the creek,’ the Old Man advised. ‘When Frank’s Bride has a few, she sings karaoke,’ the Old Man winked. ‘At times the Bride jumps on the bar and dances,’ the Old Man observed with a wide grin.

‘I think a little friolity will do us good, we inhabitants of the Wood,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘I will ask Mr. Mole and Ratty and Mr. Toad, who loves to sing,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘A time to forget our troubles and enjoy our friends,’ Mr. Badger noted. ‘I will bring my new pipe and some Harvest Blend tobacco,’ Badger laughed.

‘Listen, my friends, and you shall hear the story of Toad and Badger enjoying their pipes,’ Mr. Toad sang. ‘I swear, Badger old bo,y what is in this tobacco?’ Mr. Toad asked. ‘It makes me feel quite light without a care in the world,’ Mr. Toad said with a lisp. ‘I wish I had my motorcar with me so I could take us all for a grand ride in the Wood,’ Mr. Toad danced on one foot and then the other. ‘Is there a bit of Turkish Blend in the bowl?’ Toady wondered just before he fell off the picnic table.

The sublime beauty of autumn surrounds the old man. The crows have grown accustomed to me. They walk around me as if we are of the same family. Indeed we are in the grand plan. Crows talk with each other and have excellent memories. Crows know whether you are friend or foe. I am honored by their trust. There was a falling noise in the Woods this morning. I was there to hear it.

The quiet life suits me. My reflections comfort me. Memories warm me. Cruelty is abominable. When those in power take joy in being cruel to those who have no voice I am ashamed. We are better than this. Our road is rocky hilly and has drop offs. We must stay in the middle. The holidays are just around the corner. Let us settle our hearts on good things. If we focus on the good the evil will not flourish. Evil grows on the petrol of our hate. Does hate make you feel emboldened? When your point has been made and the hurt that your righteous indignation is revealed is Christ pleased? As the children cry in fear are you satisfied with you crusade?

Honesty is hard. The sword of truth cuts both ways. Masked men scare many good hard working people. Their temporary power is a tonic to their testosterone induced mania. They live in the moment of the faux king. His word is law and all must bow the knee. The old ways of kindness humility and mercy are out of date and the Emperor has taught us what Jesus really meant when he said to love one another as I have loved you. It is fun and exciting until they knock in your door and grab your children out of their beds. The holidays are coming.

So Christmas is coming. Peace on Earth and goodwill toward men. Jesus born in a manger among the animals and straw. No prosperity doctrine found. No ICE agents with masks to round up the unruly brown people.

We seek and search for the answers to our purpose and mission. Faith is a good vehicle to reach some conclusions. It does not provide all of the answers. Faith or Christian dogmas can morph into an aberration. The movie Substance with Demi Moore was a wonderful example in how the search for beauty morphs into monster. So it goes that what we call Christian no longer fulfills the definition of the message that Jesus taught in the New Testament. In many corners of our nation it has become an aberration.

Thanksgiving is MJ’s favorite holiday. She loves to host the event and see all of our loved ones around the table and card table. We have been hosting the event for well over 30 years. A day for everyone to come to the table. Red Yellow Black and White all are precious in his sight. Those who have no home no voice no advocate. This is a noble cause. A cause of love in the instinctive sense humans are born with. A celebration of life hope and the human family. If these are values we hold highly why not hold them throughout the holiday season and in to the New Year?

‘Thanksgiving Abigail is coming and Rosie,’ Neva J said. ‘Neither had a place for Thanksgiving Dinner and both are my good friends,’ Neva J continued. ‘Abigail has had one eye since her days in Vaudeville and people call her ‘One Eye’ in bitter humor,’ Neva J said softly. ‘Due to her loneliness Rosie talks to herself from time to time and people move to the other side of the steet when she is walking uptown,’ Neva J said solemnly. ‘They are members of our family,’ Neva J said with conviction.

Quiet is heard with the heart. The hustle and bustle of summer is yielding to the quiet of fall. There is a permanence in silence, alone with your thoughts. Does a tree fall in the woods if no one sees it? Who is watching? We wait for the other shoe to drop. At times, we are obsessed with shoes. Will the shoe dropping invade the quiet? The show is spectacular. The activity is a bit like the ants on an anthill. They move with a sense of purpose and place. The ant’s mission is to work with the ant community. Many ants make the work light. So it goes with our mystery adventure.

From the slap on the bottom by the doctor until now, we have been in it. There was a home life of play and learning to walk. Then school with so many funny and different personalities. The playground with steel monkey bars and a merry-go-round that kids fell off of. The protective padding on the ground under the merry-go-round was stones. Sitting in class, wondering why the teacher was talking so much. The burden of study. Education has its place, as God does not drop down the knowledge of living via Amazon Prime.

How did we get here, and where are we going? We seek the one right way to travel to the other end of life. Our way is the best, and no other way matters. Heathen and unschooled in the golden path, we say. We walk the same path our parents walked, or choose a totally different path to prove our independence. We are looking and watching for the Secret.

‘What a long corridor this is,’ Billy B said to his companions. ‘We were hiking in the Woods and now we are in this dark herculean hall,’ Billy B noted. ‘I know this is a Halloween Hike, but this is weird,’ Billy B proclaimed. ‘I see a Veil at the end of the Hall,’ Billy B. continued. ‘I wonder if the Secret is behind the Veil,’ Billy B mentioned. ‘I have been looking for the Secret all of my life,’ Billy B said.

‘A child is guarding the Veil,’ Chet said. ‘She is smiling and beckoning us to come forward,’ Chet noted. ‘She has a beautiful smile,’ Chet said. ‘Let us go in and see the Secret,’ Chet said. ‘I see through the crack in the Veil many unusual colors and a crystal sea,’ Chet noted. ‘There are people I have known before and places I have been,’ Chet said. ‘The world looks strangely familiar yet very different,’ Chet exclaimed. ‘There is my miniature pool table in my bedroom and the painting of Jesus looking over Jerusalem, Chet whispered. ‘I am reading the Bible in the kitchen adjacent to the Wood/Coal stove, and the Bible pages are curling up due to the heat,’ Chet noted. ‘Neva J is hollering Hit the deck, you rubberneck, Chet laughed. ‘There is Christmas dinner with Aunt Vema and Aunt Wanda and Uncle Bill around the dining room table,’ Chet laughed. ‘The little Christmas Tree sitting on the end table that Neva J was so proud of,’ Chet observed. ‘Driving to Elkville with Neva J at the wheel to attend church,’ Chet said. ‘Walking in the Woods with my Guardian Angel in the autumn, Chet sighed.

‘Perhaps we were here all along and did not realize it,’ Jane said. ‘We were preparing for something totally different when we had a foretaste of the world to come,’ Jane continued. ‘We were in the dressing room preparing to go on stage,’ Jane exclaimed. ‘We were learning our parts and our lines,’ Jane said with tears in her eyes…

The nice lady at the Health Department told me that I had a birthday coming up. I answered yes and thought about how I relish my birthday. Especially now that I am in the Golden Years. I am excited to reach another year. I have lived longer than I suspected I would. Another notch on the calendar is fun. Life is a tonic. Each day, I expect an adventure. Another mystery to solve. What a rollercoaster ride. Peace is my companion. Goodwill is my guide. Hope is my morning eggnog. When someone tells me that they find my blog interesting, I am renewed. When others like my photos, I consider their sweetness. When I see some rejoice in the suffering of their fellow humans, I am sad. We are just visiting. We own nothing. All of our possessions go back to the dust. We leave our footprints on people’s hearts. Did we see them? Did we hear them? When they reached a hand for ours, did we grasp it?

Quite is lovely. Mosey along, looking for the Secret. Return good for evil. Give hope where hate dwells. The leaves of October are in their glory and falling to the Earth. Time to think of bonfires and stories spun by storytellers. Our truths are contained in stories. The hope of heaven is a story we comfort ourselves with. Not all stories are fiction. We think about the coming of the Christ child. The Christmas Story of his being born in a manger of his mother and the shepherds and animals of the stable comforts our understanding of where we live. Most of us are not elite. We are neither rich nor powerful. Jesus came for all of us. He was no respector of persons.

We read of the golden streets of heaven and the thrones and majesty. We hear that God has a mansion with our name on the door. Many have mansions right now and have done little to help the poor. Perhaps the Bible Story was written in language we could understand.

‘Let’s make a Halloween Play that will address the stress of our world,’ Jane said. ‘Frankenstein, Wolfman, and Dracula can conduct a round table discussion about helping the needy,’ Jane offered. ‘They could hold the dialogue with the President and his key advisors,’ Jane grinned. ‘We could portray it as a Summit for Peace,’ Jane exulted.

‘We must invite people from all races and religions to ask questions,’ Chet suggested. ‘The poor and homeless must have a seat at the table,’ Chet noted. ‘This could be a Halloween Play for the ages,’ Chet danced on one foot and then the other. ‘President Kennedy and Premier Kruschev along with Dr. Martin Luther King and Malcom X,’ Chet said with aplomb. ‘Frank N. Stein will be the moderator,’ Chet laughed. ‘The movie monsters are not the scary creatures; they highlight the humans who created them,’ Chet noted.

‘Welcome to all attending,’ Frank N. Stein intoned. ‘This is a Peace Summit that has been a long time coming,’ Frank noted. ‘We all agree that we must pull back from the abyss or be consumed by it,’ Frank N. Stein said solemnly. ‘Our first speaker will be President Kennedy,’ Frank said.

‘Welcome, all we are at the door of either peace in our time or nuclear destruction of all of us,’ President Kennedy said. ‘We all love our children, we all breathe the same air, we all want peace,’ Kennedy noted. ‘The recent altercation between the Soviet Union and the United States regarding Cuba is a mile marker of what is ahead if we do not pull back from the cliff,’ Kennedy said. ‘As Benjamin Franklin said, we shall hang together or hang separately if we do not unite,’ President Kennedy warned.

‘This is a special Halloween production,’ Wolfman said. ‘We all have a little wolf in us,’ Wolfman noted with a toothy grin. ‘We must suppress our evil desires for the common good,’ Wolfman advised. ‘Who does not like to howl at a full moon? I know I do,’ Wolfman laughed. Who does not like to run through the forest with his shirt in shreds just for the feeling of freedom and fun in the night,’ Wolfman asked. ‘We must control our animal instincts with a little silver for assurance,’ Wolfman laughed.

Another glorious day! October paints fine art. Serenity and peace. Life is as good as we allow it to be. We look for the pot of gold at our front door. Such a life. What an adventure. ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.’ We sit under the Tree. The acorns fall, and we know not from whence they came. Good things happen, and we continue to eat of the bounty and look not for our benefactor. We are called upon to let go. Spending the bulk of our lives acquiring, we now have to release. It is all a dream. As we rode the carousel, we reached for the brass ring. When we grasped it in our hot little hand, we rejoiced. Now we were in the game. Now we were players. The world was our oyster.

I have a new Outback Leather Hat. I like its wide brim. I strike a peculiar look. I am at home with the preculiarity. That is me. I am a little off center. I think a bit differently than some. I noticed Pastor Kerry this Sunday and thought, ‘What a good guy.’ Simply a good human being. I appreciate all he has done for our little congregation. His brilliant sense of humor has lightened my load. He has an infectious smile. To know him is to understand the joy of being a Christian. He retires at the end of the year, and I will miss him.

A good pastor is a gift from God. Someone who brings the Christian message as Jesus intended. Christian life is refreshing and rejuvenating when lived as Christ taught. Fall brings a spring in the step. We spy with our little eye the holidays. A time for renewal and reflection. Where have we been and where are we going?

‘I am excited about the fall bonfire,’ Chet exclaimed. ‘We will be dressed in our Halloween costumes and playing our Halloween roles,’ Chet noted. ‘Of course I will be the Lost In Space Robot,’ Chet winked. ‘I am excited that Billy B will play Dr. Smith,’ Chet noted. ‘We will land on Alpha Centauri and have a dialogue with the inhabitants of the planet,’ Chet laughed. ‘Of course, Dr. Smith will proclaim, ‘Oh, the Pain.’Will Robinson will rescue us from the ensuing battle, and I will say, ‘That does not compute,’ Chet said. ‘ The aliens’ costumes will look like they were purchased at the Ben Franklin Dime Store,’ Chet laughed. ‘The budget for Lost In Space was always wanting,’ Chet winked.

‘Where are we?’ Will Robinson asked. ‘We have landed in Roswell, New Mexico, on the planet Earth,’ the Robot answered. ‘Before us a Flying Saucer that followed us down and crashed on the approach to Roswell,’ the Robot continued. ‘We are in 1947,’ the Robot continued. ‘Mr. Mac Brazel is here asking questions,’ the Robot reported. ‘This is his property,’ the Lost In Space Robot said matter-of-factly. ‘Mac has already seen the little aliens with big heads and big black eyes,’ the Robot noted. ‘Jesse Marcel believes the flying saucer and the little Grey Men are extraterrestrial, the Robot intoned. ‘This will be covered up by the military at this time due to the government not admitting their knowledge of life on other planets,’ the Robot assured.

‘Where are you from?’ Dr. Smith asked the Greys. ‘Are you from Alpha Centauri?’ Dr. Smith asked. ‘I stowed away on the ship and we left Earth five years ago,’ Dr. Smith asked. ‘You look like Alpha Centaurians, ‘ Dr. Smith observed. ‘Your eyes are kind and large,’ Dr. Smith observed with a smile.

‘We have come to warn the inhabitants of Earth,’ Grey Alien said. ‘We come in peace,’ Grey Alien continued. ‘We are creatures of peace,’ GA informed. ‘What you seek surrounds you,’ GA informed. ‘War is not the answer,’ GA said. ‘Bombs are not the answer,’ GA said. ‘Peace is the answer,’ GA promised.

The days are getting shorter. The evening shadows fall. Cool air is resplendent in Brooks Pond. There is hope for good. The Cubs lost, but there is next year. A single bird tweets to its children that it is time to come home. They are out doing what kids do in the fall. Jay Bird is watching Lassie on TV. Jay B. likes the adventures of Timmy and Lassie on Sunday night. Soon it will be time for bed and school on Monday morning. Jay Bird considers how regular life is with Monday through Friday school, and then the fun weekends. The Thing played at the Orpheum Theatre. It is a scary flick with James Arness playing the monster. The same actor who portrayed Marshall Dillon on Gunsmoke. Or as Chester called him, Mr. Dillon. Jay Bird did not often see Gunsmoke, as it was after his bedtime.

Autumn comes with what is and what was. The Bullfrog Quartet has on their L.L. Bean Sweaters. The days are warm, but the nights are cold. At least cold now but later in the winter, it will seem temperate. Soon, it will be prime leaf-viewing season. My birthday week is the epitome of changing leaves. It was October 1963 when we sat on the wrap-around front porch of the Victorian Haunted House we rented in Eldorado. We watched the Eldorado Eagles Football Team play across the Illinois Avenue. Uncle Bill Junior, and Jay Bird. The air was brisk. The lights were bright. The fans cheered. It was another world. There was a well in the backyard from which emanated weird sounds. The football players appeared spectral under the lights. Junior smoked Pall Malls and Bill L & M cigarettes. They spoke of their World War II experiences and laughed about unseen events, at least to Jay Bird.

A mournful cry comes over Brooks Pond. It is dark and impossible to see where it is coming from. It sounds a bit like a wolf and a lamb talking. Could it be a sad child? At first, it sounds like a Halloween sound effect. The longer it goes, the more frightening it seems. The Bullfrogs sing in muted tones this evening. The crying wolf-lamb-child has affected their resonance. They hum their musical score, listening to a mixture of fear and frivolity. Are we headed to the zenith or the abyss? Did the wolf prevail or the lamb? Was the child part of the guttural cry or an observer of the eternal fight of good and evil?

Forty-seven years ago today, I began at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale. I was working for my friend Brent, laying carpet. I asked him if I could take a few minutes to walk to a payphone to see if I had a telephone call from SIU. When I called our pastor’s wife, she joyously told me that I had been hired at the University and was to be at the Building Services Office at 4:00 that afternoon. I was overjoyed and called MJ from the Payphone to give her the good news. Our lives had just changed. When I reported to the Office, the custodial supervisor spoke with me for nearly an hour. I finally asked him what the job paid per hour, and it was fifty cents more than what I had thought. Mr. Young told me that the fastest way to make a good name in the organization was to do a good job. I began that night to work on the Good Name part of the plan.

MJ was a school teacher, and I was a poor boy from Eldorado. I wanted to make a good life for us. We were able to trade our two junker automobiles for a new LTD Coupe. I could not imagine what it would be like to have a new car. The Christmas of 1978, I thought as we drove to see Grandma Neva J and Grandpa Earl, that I was bringing them Christmas gifts in our new car. In early 1979, we purchased a small house. It had a massive picture window and a concrete driveway. I thought I was a millionaire.

Some days define us. October 10, 1978, set us on a happy path. I watched as my Hare friends ran past me while I moseyed along. I was the tortoise, seemingly slow to get off the starting block. I took everything in for later use. I understood that the race was not to the swift or the strong. I knew my Guardian Angel was with me. I had faith that everything would be alright.

Significant days happen to us unawares. We have to look back to see. Many of us believe that God is watching. Since he has always been and always will be, he sees our lives from the beginning to the end. God must not linearly follow our story. He is present in all of the moments of our lives.

Looking forward and watching for what is coming around the corner. Christmas is coming. A time for family and friends. Love and good food. Gifts to commemorate the gift of Christ come to live with us. The old truths are the best. Not the muscular John Wayne Christian Nationalist philosophy. Not the get-rich scheme of the prosperity doctrine. I knew Grandma A was a Christian. She was not rich. She followed what her pastor preached and read her Bible daily. Grandma A’s house was open to all. If she had food, you had dinner. Neva J was like her mom. If you needed a coat, Neva J would give you one. If you had trouble paying your light bill, Neva J would pay it. The shunned of the town were Neva J’s friends.

‘Why must we gather in the Woods?’ Chet asked the Preacher. ‘Not long ago, we were welcome in the finest churches in the town,’ Chet continued. ‘The poor sat with us in the pews and we helped them get on their feet,’ Chet noted. ‘We were humble and thought little of our accomplishments,’ Chet said. ‘We considered others better than ourselves,’ Chet whispered. ‘We learned from others rather than preach to them,’ Chet considered.

‘Christians were a minority in Jerusalem in the days of Christ,’ the Preacher said. ‘Following the carpenter and his band of fishermen was not popular,’ the Preacher continued. ‘The Pharisees and Sadducees did not accept Christ’s message of love and sought to silence him,’ the Preacher said.