Tales of the Grandfather: Our Own Forests

The Grandfather quietly slipped into a pew a few rows back.  I glanced over my shoulder and gave a little wave.  He slipped the baseball cap off of his head, grinned, and waved back.  We refocused on singing.

A little while later the devotional ended, and I made my way over to the Grandfather.  "Hola, Papá!" 

"Hola mi hija," he said.  We shared a good strong hug.

A small conversation circle lamented the suffering which the world is currently experiencing at the hands of Mother Nature.  The Grandfather said...

Each one of us must take care of our own forest.  Do you understand what I mean?  People grab and grab and grab for themselves (he gestures like he is grabbing fruit from trees and stuffing it into his mouth and his pockets).  All of the little trees around them are skinny and drying up, while they have this big thing around the middle (a fat belly).  Pastors are afraid to say these harsh words, because many of them are busy getting fat.   These are the words which need to be said.  We must take care of our own forests.  When we care for the trees around us, literally and figuratively, our faith is growing.  One tree alone breaks in the storm, but the forest of trees is strong.

One hundred years ago, these words were preached.  I walk and preach them now.  I have almost one hundred years.  One hundred years from now, these words will be there.  People will remember them.  I walk among the trees and I preach.  We must take care of our own forests.  This is the legacy of faith.  This is eternal life.  


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