Forest Prayer

By Gerald Inmon

Forest Prayer is a conversationally steered and character-driven life story with the protagonist growing up and older while looking for the Lord. Having a few Christian mentors and a few mentors who appear to be agnostic, Jerry struggles his whole life through trying to distinguish between what he often feels is an infestation of Christianity along with what he knows is his infatuation with forestry and his obsession with wildlife management.

Thinly disguised as Jerry, I had the following supporting characters: Papa, my grandfather and Baptist preacher who was close to God in more ways than one; Uncle Sawyer, my saw boss who insisted that the cure to all our problems was out there in the woods waiting for us to find; Ol' Professor Starlet, who was the forestry teacher who turns out to know more than we first thought when meeting him; the good Dr. Frank, who is perhaps the world's leading international forester; and Patsy, who is my main confidant still today after over fifty years of awesome marriage.

Instead of reading or writing fiction or nonfiction, the fun of this genre that I like to call faction is that we get to enjoy living life over again but doing it better. If you share one of these true-life experiences with me for real and recognize my story is more like the way things should have been, it is. Rather than part of a bucket list, this is part of my to-do list of testimonies for Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. So I ask that those of you who knew me before my life became undergirded with Christianity to please remember that both Colossians and the Lord's Prayer tell us that we are to forgive one another as Christ forgave us.

Locations of verses within Bible books are specifically omitted in hopes that it might encourage the reader to spend more personal time in the Good Book for him or herself. As directed by the Holy Bible not to add or take away anything from the Word, I have made that effort to the best of my ability. If I've accidentally missed, added, or misrepresented anything, then I ask that you and God please forgive me. God help me if this causes harm to anyone's faith.

Author's liberty includes the following four grammatical variances for the following reasons:

#1--incorrect grammar and incorrect spelling are sometimes used to better reflect characters, times, and places. After all, what's not about Christ is about people.

#2--italics used all over the place are to emphasize words, phrases, and much more...like out of respect for the various names of God; verses in the Bible; books of the Bible; quotes, whether verbatim or paraphrased; and even sometimes in lieu of quotation marks or for periodic words that rhyme.

#3--overuse of ellipsis is because Psalm does say to be still...and it seems the characters in the book often want you to slow down a fraction of a second longer than you might for a mere comma.

#4--types or names of trees are capitalized and italicized...as it does take them to make a forest.

Other books by Gerald Inmon are Yocona Puff Adder (ISBN 0-9774864-3-5) and Camp Re-Form (ISBN 0-9774864-7-2). First edition books of these two are still available in hardback hard copy by e-mailing to [e-mail] or electronically through Amazon Kindle or Barnes and Noble's Book Nook.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781098090913

Book preview

1

Taylor Baptist

From the nineteen twenties, my dad semi-regularly attended Presbyterian churches from Toccopola to Taylor. But ever since the late nineteen twenties, my mom religiously attached her church attendance to several Baptist denominations in the same general area of North Mississippi.

Therefore, even before I hardly knew what churches were there for, I’ve clung to the Bible books of first and second confusion. From the late nineteen forties, after I joined my folks, they still maintained a spiritual devotion to their own particular houses of worship…and that stuck out like one of those tiny little twigs from a large tree trunk hanging on for no apparent reason.

Little did I know that many years later, I’d learn, again for probably no apparent reason to me, that such a tree part is called an epicormic branch. Nevertheless, and no doubt sinfully, some of Mom’s Baptist friends began teasing her and gossiping about Dad being Presbyterian. Either by coincidence or on account of one of those God-things, some of Dad’s Presbyterian friends started coming down on him concerning his wife’s not submitting to her husband’s religious preference.

When Mom mentioned those two circumstances to Papa, her Baptist preacher father, you’d have thought he’d gone on point like a bird dog. He quickly maintained that it would be a happy and heavenly decision if my folks would no longer go their separate ways during the holy hour. So I figured it wouldn’t be long until we got to see the good Christians and bad other folks from Oxford in our rearview mirror on our way to Taylor for our weekly church service.

*****

"Little would thrill me more than for the three of y’all to grace my little church with your presence every Sunday. If you’ll join my flock at Taylor Baptist, we can also have our Sunday dinners together the way a family should."

We’ll study it, Dad says in the tone of voice I’ve come to decipher as his leaning toward an answer of no!

"Munford, don’t you see that this is obviously one of those mysterious ways our Lord works? I feel it’s the Holy Spirit being willing to help me prune y’all’s church life and your general enjoyment for the better."

I hear tell there’s some ecumenical churches in Oxford that might better divide our religion in a way that more evenly splits our views on things.

That’s about the last thing a married couple needs. And it could be one of the first things the devil uses to get his hooks in you.

"Brother Taylor, didn’t you just say something about the Holy Ghost?"

"Fact of the matter is…regardless of denomination, Jesus won’t accept anybody until they accept Him for what He did for us. What we oughta do now is take it to the Lord in prayer."

And being a preacher, you figure that’s gonna give you the inside track, huh?

"Munford, as a married couple, y’all shouldn’t be taking sides. Let me just say that it would be very much to my liking, and to God’s, I’m sure, if you’d plant your Bible study in Taylor…not to mention how great it would be for my grandson’s Christian education. We’re good people at Taylor Baptist. And we try not to let our selfish and personal desires become more important to us than keeping the Ten Commandments."

"As well as all of the Good Book’s other suggestions, I suppose?"

Of course.

And what if I can’t live up to y’all’s standards? Would I get to quit coming?

You shoulda thought of that before marrying me, Mom goes for a rare interruption.

"Munford, the key word in what I said about keeping the commandments is…keeping. That word, keeping, is a mariner’s term. In the old days, ships would try to stay aligned with the stars to keep their way. Everybody knew they’d occasionally drift off course a little. But they also knew they needed to realign with those stars to get back straight when that happened."

Sorta like drifting off in your sermons, huh?

Dad and Papa just stare at each other. I’m realizing Dad doesn’t want to argue anymore, but I’m also knowing Papa isn’t about to give up on this debate. One thing that’s probably bothering Dad is the fact that nobody has a chance when arguing with his father-in-law about God. It’s like Papa can bring extra help to use at his convenience with any discussion of the subject. That’s not hardly fair when he’ll have about three quotes of Scripture to argue his side of everything.

We’ll see, Dad speaks up, right when I thought my grandfather was about to win the staring contest.

I may just be thinking like the Bible book of second opinion, but I’m honestly feeling that Dad would like Taylor Baptist. I know I would. But a few of the occasions when the three of us had visited Papa’s church, it did seem like everybody was trying to get re-saved as if their first time didn’t take. That may be another thing that’s causing Dad to be a little reluctant. I remember one Sabbath when Papa carried on and on so about his ever-present believing agenda until I half expected Christ to come again before we got let out for lunch.

Then again, Dad doesn’t always totally agree with everything he hears from Oxford Prez. Surely, we can all better believe whatever Papa preaches. Dad has already learned enough to stay out of Mom’s way about her church…as long as she keeps me out of his way by dragging me along with her. In addition to my accompanying her on God’s day, she’s always finding numerous and various other opportunities for me to be at her church.

Eventually, I would feel everything coming together for me. The first sign was when Dad and Papa started calling each other by their first names. Maybe if I do my best like Papa suggests, our Savior will see to it that Taylor Baptist’s preacher doesn’t become the shepherd who lost his three favorite sheep. I think I’ll take it to the Lord in prayer.

Heavenly Father God, Jesus, and Holy Ghost…please don’t think this is just me talking at You again because I’m supposed to. I’ll make You a deal and really promise this time that I’ll listen to what my grandfather preaches. When he reads from Your Good Book, I will figure it’s like You speaking to me through him. So please jot me down in that Book of Lambs that Papa says You’ve got. I am thanking You in advance because I do believe. And please help me shake that unbelief part of my trust. I can use Your help getting rid of that little bit of doubt in my faith that Papa talks about being the size of mustard seed or something like that. Thank You. Amen.

Little could I have dreamed then that one day many years later, my son would be preaching one of his first sermons from that same little Baptist church where Papa ended up being pastor to me and Mom and even Dad. And less likely could I have dreamed that I’d be trying to help my son’s first invitation along by personally walking down that aisle for my second time…but first time as an adult.

*****

But…back to the fifties, when Mom and Dad and I first claimed a hardwood bench up close to the front of Papa’s little church, we so regularly sat in that hard thing that we came to call it our family pew. I’ll never forget the one Sunday at Taylor Baptist when our sermon was nothing short of a bush-burning experience for me. Up from behind the Dogwood podium, my favorite preacher at the time kindled a classic message as if it was lit Taylor made for me.

I’m sure everybody else expected Brother Taylor to simply preach about how good God is for the umpteenth time. But I couldn’t have been more emotionally moved than when Papa got my personal attention by bringing to his sermon the subject of trees.

"My grandson there…is so infatuated with trees that sometimes I almost think he wants to grow up and become one. But he also told me that he wants to see God and get to know Jesus for himself. Praise God!"

After a few scattered Amens, Papa preaches on, "So if God’s willing, we’ll try to be so Christianly careful with this youngster’s upbringing that maybe he’ll change his mind about actually becoming a tree. That would bring about what? A change of actions," Papa answers his own question.

The quiet of our little country church is enough that I could hear a pine needle drop. Breaking that silence, Papa continues, "My life goal for this young fellow is the same as my utmost desire for each of you…and for myself. It is that our lives can be so special to each other, and to God, that our favorite thing to do will become seeing our Savior in everything we see."

Mom’s shaking her head up and down, but I gather from looking around that everybody is a little puzzled over what Papa said.

"None of us should have to search for God. He wants us to focus on our friendship with Jesus. All of us are to grow in the relationship that God makes available to us through His Mediator, Jesus. None of us have any business claiming that we’ve found God until we do as Jesus told us to do. And that is to first become as humble as a little child coming to Him."

Some of the confused looks on folks seem to be righting themselves up, but I’m thinking he just called me a little child. I’m still somewhat lopsided over that.

"Now let me share a Bible verse that should be both relief and direction…perhaps more relief for my grandson and more direction for the rest of you. Why’s that? Because most of the rest of you already know how to read."

With subdued laughter behind me, I’m now at least glad my reddening face is facing toward the front.

"One of my favorite Bible verses is in 1 Corinthians, where it says…‘when a man thinks he knows something, he does not yet know as he ought.’ I believe that’s saying we need to get in our Bibles and study them."

I didn’t hear it say that, and as if it was on cue, Dad snorts an abbreviated snore. Mom elbows him, and when I start to laugh, she glares at me over the top of her spectacles hard enough to stop me in mid-laughter and glue me quietly to my seat.

Papa reads from his Bible that "good trees bear good fruit, and bad trees bear bad fruit, and a good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit." As Papa goes on, I toss up a silent prayer of thanks for getting to hear so much about trees…even if I don’t understand it all. It’s strange that Dad’s struggling to stay awake when I’m finding this more interesting than ever.

"Now…since God has been so good to us, let’s give back ten percent of what He’s given us. As we pass the collection plate to help carry out God’s good work, let’s also think about turning ourselves from our sinful ways and following Jesus wherever He takes us. We need to do whatever He asks of us."

I do feel blessed, even being squeezed in here between my Gospel-powered grandmomma and my God-fearing momma. Since Papa’d referred to me in this sermon and even tied it to my beloved trees, I seriously consider dropping part of my allowance in the collection plate. As the plate starts around, the preacher reads, "Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire." Hearing that, my thoughts of tithing pass from likely toward probably…and then to only possibly as the plate approaches.

"It’s only by studying the Word of God that you understand that verse about cutting down the nonbearing trees and what it means. And if you think some other time is when you can try harder to grasp God’s direction for you, then you are wrong. That won’t work for you. It’s not all right with God for you to not bother with immediately. What the Good Book is saying to us is that since we don’t yet know what we should, we should get in our Bibles and study the Word of God. Then we will know what we ought. That’s when we’ll totally understand what God expects out of us."

*****

In addition to Papa’s daily study of his Bible, he says he’s read some tea leaves and discovered that he needs to move my grandmother from Taylor to Oxford. They need to be closer to the hospital for Granna’s health’s sake and to the university for their oldest daughter’s sake so she can be within walking distance to teach English.

Papa said that a preacher’s salary might be some of the devil’s doing, but a good preacher’s retirement plan was out of this world. And God must have lined up some of those stars in heaven to guide their move to be within a couple of blocks from our house and only about a football field from campus. Along with my aunt’s teaching salary from Ole Miss and what Papa and Granna got from selling the house in Taylor, they borrowed some money from the Bank of Oxford to buy a modest little house on University Avenue.

Since none of the three Taylors moving to Oxford had a car or could drive, they would be riding with us back and forth for our church services in Taylor. While Dad was never known for being very tactful, he did only say that the move had an unintended consequence of him having to receive a second hearing of each Sunday’s sermon on those rides. After Papa answered by saying it wouldn’t hurt Dad if he did get a double dose, the preacher just started up about his old days.

When I was a circuit-riding preacher and had to travel by horse and buggy, I’d preach morning, afternoon, and evening at three different churches every Sunday. With four Sundays per month, that meant all twelve little churches would get one sermon a month.

That don’t sound like such a bad idea for us, Dad announces, you traveling by horse and buggy…and us coming to church once a month.

That’s not gonna happen, Mom clears up any confusion about that…not that there was any.

2

Th’ Ol’ Satan-Snake

"Get down outa that tree, boy. You think you’re Zacchaeus or somethin’?"

But Papa…

"What in the name of Samuel L. Hades do you think you’re doing climbing a tree with a hoe in your hand? You fall outta that tree, and you’ll break your mom’s garden tool for sure."

As fate without enough faith usually does have its way, my grandfather would have to be coming along at just the wrong time. Summoning me down like his tax collector from a Sycamore is one thing, but I don’t want my preacher to see me crying.

"It’s Satan himself, Granddad. He’s up there."

"Oh really, now. Well, tell me if you think your granna’s Sunday school description of him has hit the mark…or did it just skin a little bark?"

"She missed it big time. He’s much more like that ol’ Satan-snake you preached about from Adam."

Adam?

"You know…th’ first book in the Bible."

"That would be Genesis, actually…but let’s get up the stairs there. I want to be on the porch where I can get a look see for myself. I always wanted to see what the ancient reptilian form of the devil himself actually looks like."

"Come on, then, but you ain’t gonna like it. He’s eating the baby birds I’ve been waiting to see hatch out. Mom said if I’d keep watching those eggs from my special place up there, God was gonna show up and show out with His miracle of baby bird birth. According to Momma, I was supposed to have me a heartfelt communion with God. She said I could count on our Heavenly Father being here for me."

I love the way that daughter of mine does sometimes put things like that into words.

Well…you just wait till you see this. Being a cold-blooded baby bird murder instead of what all she said ain’t no description to brag about.

A few steps ahead of my favorite man on the face of the earth, I run up to our second-story porch overlooking my special tree. We look over the edge of the porch and down in the bird nest.

Look at that, Papa. One of the baby dove’s little wings is still flapping…sticking out of that snake’s filthy mouth.

Papa’s speechless, but he couldn’t help but notice Lanky Lucifer’s otherwise skinny body apparently having the same number of bulges as there must have been baby birds.

I’ve gotta get back up that tree with that hoe.

No, you don’t. This is a common grey rat-snake.

"Thunderation! I mean…it might be to you. But to me and them dove…how do you know he ain’t the fallen angel you talked about in church? He’s probably just wearing a snake-skinned suit, and I think he’s come to be my personal demon. I’ve gotta get him, Papa."

"Nope. God created snakes…and they have a right to eat too."

What?

It’s all in Mother Nature’s greater scheme of things.

Come on, now. We need to slice him open and see if any of those baby birds are still alive.

They’re not.

"How do you know? You’re the one who preached about Jonah living in a whale’s belly for awhile. You’re the one all time talkin’ about makin’ a savin’ decision. Let me go save those little birds."

"I’ve also preached about python-spirituality from the book of Mark, but this isn’t that either."

What is it then?

"It’s merely one of God’s reptiles carrying out his role in God’s plan."

"What kinda God’s got a plan like that?"

Boy, if you say anything like that again, you are gonna get this hoe back…from me wearing your tail out with the handle.

But Papa…Granna even calls the dove a bird of peace. There ain’t no peace happening inside that snake for those birds.

"Jerry, I know this seems traumatic to you. But it is apparently beyond your understanding at this time. It’s simply one of those things that’s divinely designed, and you’ll need to accept it as a God thing."

"Wait a minute. You’ve had me trying to understand everything about God for my whole life through…even stuff I don’t care nothing about. But now we got something I do care about…and you’re saying I don’t have to understand what I can’t understand. That don’t even make sense."

"Young man, everything that’s already been laid out by our Lord is not necessarily up to you to figure out. And this is the last time I’m going to warn you about how you talk to me."

But—

"Sometimes the Holy Spirit is the only one who can give you peace concerning what you can’t understand. You might think of this as an internal experience where you’re not expecting the Holy Ghost to come to your aid…but He will."

Yeah…like you coming along just now when I didn’t need any of this.

My grandfather turns the garden hoe over and firmly grips the handle like a baseball bat. But we both know he’s not about to hit me. As we continue to simply stare at each other, neither of us speaks. I’m too dumbfounded to say much more, but I can’t take this. Moistening my lips, I try to swallow and prepare my dry throat to speak.

Papa, everybody loves baby birds. Do you even know anybody who likes snakes?

"Jerry, did you know that God took snakes’ legs away from them in the Garden of Eden?"

What?

"He did. It was because of the big sin and disobedience of the first humans."

"Then why ain’t Ol’ No-legs crawling over a hot bed of coals in Hades right now instead of eating baby dove and getting so fat with all those birds in him that he probably can’t even crawl down? I wish he’d tried whetting his appetite on a chicken-hawk or hammerhead pecker-wood or some kinda bird that could at least half way fight back."

You’ve argued enough…too much, in fact. Now I’m going on to town. And I trust that you will now do the right thing with this hoe…which means putting it back where you got it.

Okay…go ahead.

"I also want you to go to the Lord in prayer about everything I’ve told you here. You’re not the only one who has to sometimes tell God that you just don’t understand something. In fact, that’s the very time when we most need to lift everything up to God."

All right…goodbye.

As my grandfather turns and eases off, I do pray.

Good God Uh-Mighty up in heaven…

You know I’m wanting to be totally convinced in my faith that You’re as real to me as You seem to be to that man. But, Lord, I’m needing some kinda sign here. Papa’s preached that You promised us that Satan and his sinful power would one day be destroyed. This seems like an awful good day for that to happen. I’ve been taught about Satan first coming to earth in the form of a serpent. Wouldn’t Adam and Eve from Genesis and everybody else who has to die want me to get some revenge for them? Give me some kinda sign, Jesus.

Amen.

I open my eyes and look for my sign. All I see is my grandfather’s back at the end of the street. As he steps around the corner, that oughta be worth something in the scheme of Holy signs. Not only that, this snake could very well be kin to that first Satan-snake. He don’t have any legs. That right there could be the Holy Spirit letting me know…what Jesus would do.

I’ll bet He’d take our big bulky Taylor family Bible and smash this ol’ Satan-snake before he can strike someone’s heels like the Good Book talks about him doing. On top of that, I’m starting to imagine this serpent grinning at me. He’ll probably be making some kind of snake-smile and laughing as he sinfully hisses snake-sounds. Still watching and listening and wanting to hear or see directly from the Father, Son, or Holy Ghost, I start visualizing myself wearing a new pair of snake-skin boots with a snake-skin belt and a matching billfold.

Ain’t no telling how many times I’ve heard Brother Taylor herd up his flock on a Sunday morning about that Bible verse in James…the one about faith without works being dead. Not only that, I know I remember Papa preaching that whatever our perception of Satan is…that’s not nearly as important as how we personally deal with him. That may not be a message etched in a stone tablet and tumbling down from Thacker Mountain telling me what I need to do…but that’s gotta be my sign.

3

False Maple

Toward the end of my horrific day, Papa shuffles his way back by my house. I’m sure I should have managed to be out of his sight when he returned from town…but this is my special place. I’ll just try to appear innocent…as if I’m simply standing here expecting to see my False Maple blossom again or do something else especially tree-like.

Jerry, are those snake scales at the base of that tree?

Uh…that ol’ Satan-snake musta been shedding, Papa.

What about that blood?

Wow…maybe those baby birds he ate weren’t so good for him or maybe he just spit-up or something.

"Yeah…something is more like it. You’ve gotta know how disappointed I am in your disobedience. Maybe if I cut this tree down, it’ll be enough punishment for you to learn about obedience."

"Mom says this is God’s tree."

"That’s true…but I’ve got a pretty good connection with the Father of all trees. I happen to know He has other False Maples at other locations."

But you also told me last week this tree and this place was like my very own special…whatever you called it.

"Epicenter…like in the middle of your personal paradise on earth. For some reason, hanging around this tree for you seems to be where you should feel so loved by our Heavenly Father that you want to thank Him for everything He’s promised. Is that not right?"

Yeah, I did that.

Did what?

"Thanked God…for all that stuff. But I’m still not so grateful that snake thing happened."

"Boy, did you get snake bit or something? I thought you were about to proclaim your total satisfaction with everything you’ve got to live for. Do you remember the Bible characters named Job and Elijah…and how one of them found himself envying a tree?"

Doing what to a tree?

"As I recall, he was rebuked for being too fond of a tree. And that didn’t work out so well for him…until you might say he had enough leaves fall to become transformed. And this transforming of you is what God and I are trying to help you do for yourself."

You’re the one, Papa.

"No, but I know Him…and I love Him…and I need Him…and I want all that for you."

Okay. Thanks.

"We’re not quite through yet, young man."

What are you talking about?

We’re talking about you trying to distract me by changing the subject from what you’ve done here.

"Papa…I was really trying to get the Holy Ghost to teach me more about snakes…so I could better stay away from Satan. You know…?"

What am I gonna do with you, Boy?

You could let me go this time.

Jerry, I don’t want you to get yourself so far out on the proverbial limb of sin that you fall off.

Ever’body slips up sometimes…don’t they, Papa?

"Which is another reason we need the Holy Spirit."

Yeah, Granddad…to catch us when we fall?

"And to keep us from falling so often. Unlike Satan who entices us to go wrong, God the Holy Spirit encourages us to do right. The point is…you can help with either of those. And to help God with the right one, that means paying attention to our Lord’s directions in everything we do."

"I got it, Preacher…and you don’t gotta make a Bible story out of ever’thing."

"It’s not me making them. They’re already in the Book. What we call literary techniques are used all throughout the Bible. My oldest daughter, teaching English out at the university, teaches her students about metaphors, allegories, fables, parables, and such. The Bible is full of them."

I don’t know what none of them are, so why do you wanta talk about it?

That’s because I love you enough to put up with having to at least get this teaching process started for you.

Momma and Grandmomma have done tried that. It ain’t working so good neither.

"But they’re not as stubborn as I am. And I’m devoting myself to you. If you think you’re a little slow to get the message sometimes, let’s just say that it’s because God uses numerous and various ways to get through to us."

"Then explain to me how come my personal experience with th’ Satan-snake and my False Maple couldn’t be like one of those Bible stories you talk about? And if that tax collector hadn’t climbed his tree to see Jesus, then Jesus probably wouldn’t have even spotted him in the first place. What’s the big difference between him and me, huh?"

"The first thing that comes to my mind is that Zacchaeus wasn’t carrying his mother’s garden hoe. And he didn’t have vengeance bulging out in the veins of his neck. Then too…there’s the difference in the trees."

I wanta hear that one.

You would.

Why not? I can’t tell one of them big words from the next one, but I know my tree. And wasn’t there supposed to be a dove that didn’t get eaten by a snake? And didn’t that dove bring a leaf back to Noah’s ark?

What exactly are you not understanding about that?

While that dove was up in that tree, what do you think woulda happened if that snake had got to him before he picked off that leaf to take to Noah? I’ll tell you. That big boat with ever’body else on it mighta sunk…that’s what.

"Jerry, your mouth is getting out ahead of your brain. And I know you’re saying whatever comes to your mind in an effort to try and change the subject away from your disobedience. I hope I don’t have to cut that False Maple down to teach you a lesson."

We need to keep this tree. Punish me some other way if you want to.

I don’t want to have to punish you at all.

Then don’t.

"Not so fast. What about when you hear the will of God? I want you to be prepared to start retaining it…and acting on it."

"That’s what I thought I was doing. How come it can’t be me who knows the will of God?"

"Starting back in Genesis or even before that, God knew there would eventually be kids like you. And He wants to make sure what He says sticks with you."

We gotta keep this tree, Grandpa.

"Whether we’re talking about snakes or dove or trees or even people, God’s grand variety is comprised of them all, and there are many differences amongst them. But they also have some similarities."

What are you talking about?

"Similar to the way God made different trees to have different sizes, shapes, forms, textures, colors, and such…He also made people to have our own peculiar personalities and traits. The Good Book uses many analogies comparing certain traits trees have to those of people. Maybe we should think more about some of those ways."

Now you’re talking. What’s that?

"Psalms talks about being like a tree planted near the water and yielding fruit instead of withering."

What else?

"God placed the Tree of Life at the center of the garden. There was the Tree of Conscience and how it relates to the knowledge of good and bad. There’s a Bible verse saying it’s by their fruit you will recognize them."

"Yeah…it’d be a shame to cut down this tree, Papa. It would probably be a sin too. I know I can’t see ever’thing the way you and God see it. But I do have myself this one special place right here with my False Maple. Here is where I can do that thinking thing you said in church that we all need to do."

"Meditate?"

Yeah, that…didn’t you preach that we should all have a place to do that?

"I did indeed. It’s great to have yourself a vantage with an advantage…like a prayer garden. But the operative word is prayer."

Well, I’m just thankful for the way things already are…and the way ever’thing is for me. Can’t you understand that…and not cut down my tree?

"I’m afraid I do understand…that you may not be getting the big picture. I’m trying to get through to you that the way things are for you is not as important as the way things are for everybody else. And you don’t have to cling to this one favorite tree of yours to find God, the Father of all forests everywhere."

"Papa, those forests you’re talking about are bound to make great places to look for the Lord and listen to Him or for Him if you’re still waiting like me…if they’re not cut down."

"What if we harvest some of these renewable resources that you see only as trees? What if we only cut some of their trees into lumber to build people’s homes to live in…and church houses in which to cooperatively worship God?"

Well, I suppose some of that would be all right if—

"Do you suppose that God’s foresters with God’s help and God’s agreement can properly manage the forests? Do you reckon they can be growing even more trees in other places…as well as new, bigger, and better crops of them at the right time and places?"

Huh?

Instead of hearing more about it, this is one of those rare instances when I simply get to watch Papa turn and walk off toward his new house without even saying goodbye. Little did I realize that Papa’s impromptu lecture with its thoughts would possibly have such a major influence in my future.

*****

Close to twenty years later and attending my high-dollar forestry schooling, I would come to learn so much about these subjects that it’d even include a college-level dendrology course informing me that my trusty ol’ False Maple was more properly called an Ash-leafed Maple or Box Elder or even the Latin-like scientific name Acer negundo.

That last name I promptly forgot after first having to memorize it for a plant taxonomy final exam. As it turned out, certain major advisors did think they were feeding their grad students freebies for being able to recall such as that in front of the other professors during their oral exams.

God was so good to let me have all that forestry education. I’d never argue with Him, but I must admit I did question Him on why He would locate my main most favorite tree just down University Avenue from Ole Miss. After all, that’s arguably the most hated arch rival of Mississippi State University, where my forestry school is located. Just as I was thinking there could be no possible justification for God placing my tree there, the answer kicked me like an ornery logging mule who just bumped up against a hornet’s nest.

Perhaps God was simply growing my False Maple where I would have it to help me grow up. It did help shape my perspectives. Wow! Maybe it wasn’t so much that God didn’t care for that tree by locating it there as it was that He did care so much more for me.

4

Fall Leaves

Come to supper, Jerry! Mom calls out louder this second time.

Coming.

Didn’t you hear me the first time?

"Yes’um. Uh, I was in the middle of thanking God for ever’thing."

Including supper?

"Right then, I guess it was more for my False Maple. Papa said I should consider it my personal gift from God. And those leaves were coming off like all get out. You oughta seen ’em, Mom. It seemed like my tree was calling me to do some hard watching and high thinking."

"Did you know there’s a parable from Isaiah about how we’re all unclean and unrighteous and fade like a leaf…and how our iniquities take us away like the wind?"

There you go. That sounds like something Papa’d say.

Then let me say this more like your mother. I’m certainly glad to know that my fixing you something to eat didn’t disturb you too much.

That does sound more like you.

Young man, we are talking about you. I want you to rearrange your list of priorities so that coming when I call you is at the top.

Yes’um.

If you don’t do that, then your leaf-peeking shall quickly become a life lesson for you about how too much of a good thing can turn out bad. You got it?

I will, Momma. And I know what you mean. When those leaves fall and blow across the street for Dr. Anderson to have to rake up, I figure I might be liking it a tad too much. But, Mom, when those leaves are changing for their last pretty color of the year before they come off, don’t you agree with me how hard it is to stop watching?

"Son, I absolutely can identify with that. In addition to a lot of tree colors being at their best, the Oak acorns and Hickory nuts are falling. The Bible book of Judges has trees and vines and bramble giving us messages about fulfilling our God-given purposes."

You heard all that from Papa, didn’t you?

"Preacher Taylor doesn’t own the only Bible around here. As far as how we conduct ourselves is concerned, it’s more like the Bible should own us. But there’s a famous quote from old about the Lord writing the promises of the resurrection that changed the world in every leaf."

All right then…instead of it being in the books?

"No, but as well as being in books. If you don’t buy the fact that I’ve read the Good Book for myself from cover to cover several times over, then you may go ahead and assume I know all this good stuff because I’m the preacher’s daughter."

That’s more like it, Dad offers.

"Munford, what do you think I’m doing every morning when you get up and see me holding the Holy Word in my lap?"

Dad’s speechless for a big change. So I mistakenly think it’s a good time for me to speak up.

"And about me not coming in right when you called the first time, Papa’s got a saying about the Gospel of God being really big on forgiveness."

"Son, Isaiah does say God can blot away our sins for our sake…pouring out His Spirit and blessings on us so that we may thrive like watered grass and Willows on a river bank. But there’s something else that must go along with forgiveness. It’s called repentance. So this would be a good time for your dad and me to hear some of that from you."

"Okay, I’m sorry. I was enjoying watching the last of the leaves a little too long…even though Papa said that God said being happy is a part of being holy."

"You’re taking parts of what your grandfather says out of context, and we’ve gotta talk about that…later. For now, go wash your hands and hurry back to say grace for us. Then we’ll see if our Heavenly Father and your earthly father will let us enjoy our dinner together."

"Supper," Dad corrects Mom for calling this meal dinner.

I’m thinking about how Dad always has to have the last word on everything, but it’s good that he’s started up again…because I’m also busy trying to think of what to say in this prayer.

He oughta known better than to try using the falling leaves as an excuse for not coming when you called him. This tree fetish of his is about to go from ripe to rotten if we don’t get on top of it.

Now pray us up, Jerry.

Dear God, we love You and need You and thank You for this meal whatever it’s called…and for everything else too. Amen.

Are you in a hurry, Son?

I thought you was the one in a hurry, Mom.

"Were."

I was, but you were too.

Jerry, I was trying to correct your English. But…now I would like for you to eat and listen to me…without you talking. Shake your head up and down if you understand that.

As I shake my head up and down in the affirmative, Dad has apparently decided to let Mom handle the rest of this."

Here’s the skinny of it. Your father and I are usually going to be happy to have you do what your grandfather says. But what he tells you is right only if you have correctly understood his meaning. It’s called a perspective. I’m never going to say anything bad about my father and neither should you…about yours. But contrary to how much we love them both, and what else we may or may not sometimes think about them, no men are perfect.

Neither are women, Dad can’t hold that thought in.

Not able to stay quiet any longer myself, I suggest, "I can settle this. Jesus was the only one who’s ever been perfect."

Merely looking at me, both of my parents are apparently waiting on the other one to speak first. Before either of them does, I once again mistakenly decide that’s the cue for me to continue.

"Jesus even let Himself get hung on the cross made from that Dogwood tree to take care of my sins…for this very sorta thing."

What very thing? Mom pushes for my particulars.

To offer me my forgiveness…but I would like to hear what’s wrong with Papa.

What part of hushing and eating did you not understand?

"I may have that one too. Is it one of them rhetorical questions Papa preaches about?"

Not really. And don’t tell me you couldn’t shake your head one way or the other, up or down to have answered that.

Come on, Mom?

With laughter from Mom and me, I’m even seeing a slight smile from Dad for a big change.

"Now put some of those butterbeans in your mouth, and let me do the talking from now until I tell you different. It’s like this…my father talking to you about how y’all’s connection with God might be a good example of how you need to keep what you’re hearing within the meal that he’s cooking up for you."

Huh?

When you think you’ve learned something, your next step is to be sure and keep it within the grove of trees it applies to.

"Like the pot calling the kettle black," Dad breaks in again.

Ignoring him, except for her expression, Mom continues, You have to figure out if what’s said does or doesn’t fit the particular subject.

An example, please?

Those butterbeans. There will be no butterbeans left on your plate when we’re done.

But, Mom—

"When you were a little boy, I can still remember you trying to hide your butterbeans under your plate. That’s a story that could be totally inapplicable today if its perspective is not absolutely understood. Chew. When you’ve swallowed and your mouth is empty, then you may ask a question…if it’s applicable."

It ain’t gonna be no butterbeans in heaven, is it?

Refill and chew. Not just the potatoes and roast beef.

Look, Ma, I’m eating.

"You can be forgiven for something as simple as your ungrateful tardiness. Instead of dwelling on the past, we would rather be able to expect you to do better in the future. It’s your future where God and Papa and your dad and I all want what’s best for you. Second Corinthians and Isaiah both let us read how God’s gonna do brand-new things for His chosen ones. Son, that’s much beyond any comparison to what He’s already done. We don’t want you to miss being in that number."

You’re sounding like Papa again.

"Thank you. But what you need to know is that Ephesians says God is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of…infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, and hopes."

"Papa’s all time talking about what the Bible books say, but what is it that you say, Mom?"

"I say you’d better hope that being the most argumentative boy on God’s green earth is something that won’t keep you out of heaven. And I say that when there’s nothing left on your plate besides your fork, that’s when you can get up and go play. Until then, hush, chew, and swallow…in that order."

*****

The next time Papa seems to be stopping by my house for no apparent reason other than me, he again catches me sitting in the corner of my upstairs screened in porch and looking at my tree.

Hey, Papa, you wanta hear about a dream I had last night?

"Sure, but first let me guess. Was it about some of the Greek and Hebrew and Aramaic I’ve been slipping in my sermons?"

"I don’t know how you coulda known that…but it sorta was. I dreamed I met Saint Peter at the pearly gates and He had an entrance quiz I needed to pass in order to get in."

I’d like to hear this.

"He started talking like you do about how I need to get the whole message of the whole truth and all."

And?

"I argued back that He’d given us a Bible verse about coming to Him like a little child."

And then?

"That’s when I woke up in a cold sweat and never learned what He said about that. So, Papa, I gotta tell you something. Even if something comes right out of the Bible, that don’t mean I can figure out what all those big words and literary things mean. But what I do know is that I’ve had me a good example of the ol’ Satan-snake eating baby birds…and it came from my False Maple."

And this is a problem for you because why?

It’s like tree climbing is getting scarce around Oxford, not to mention the campus cops are always running me off from there.

No, I didn’t mention that, and I don’t see what it’s got to do with your dream either.

Well, not all of my dreams make sense.

Jerry, I’m prepared to let you proclaim your near satisfaction with your trees, whether you are physically climbing them or just visually studying them, but that’s only if you’ll try and grow along the religious parameters I’m trying to share with you.

There you go again, Papa…making it sound good, but I’m trying to tell you that sometimes it just seems like those kinds of apples are a little out of my reach.

Then let me elaborate on certain conditions that will help you reach them.

I thought we were talking about tree climbing.

"Okay. We can do it that way. As in tree climbing, when you grasp one limb it will facilitate your ability to grasp the next one up. You should be mentally climbing toward Christ like that. Instead of just seeing how high you can climb the tree, try thinking about our Lord and all the great things He’s done for you. He provided the trees. Do you remember what I called spending a special time with God?"

Meditation…do I get credit for that?

"If what you’re contemplating is how much you love God and need Him…and if you’re asking Him for forgiveness, and to bless other folks like He has you. You’ve got a lot to be thankful for. It’s much more than just this one near sacred tree of God’s right here that you call your own. So you shouldn’t be frustrated by things like not understanding the food chain."

Food chain?

Yeah…the snake and the birds.

"Well…why don’t the Bible just say all that stuff out right…so ever’body can understand it instead of having to try to figure it out?"

"I don’t know how God chooses to speak to us in the ways He does. Nobody knows everything God knows. But over my lifetime, I’ve come to believe that based on how different we are from everybody else and who we really are inside, God’s got a plan just for us."

I’d like to hear that for me.

"In God’s time, you will. Do you know where our Holy Bible is talking about when it says God planted all sorts of beautiful trees in the garden that produced the choicest of fruit?"

Taylor?

"No. It’s Eden…also called heaven."

With you knowing so much about trees and all, how come you don’t get a good job at the sawmill or working in the logging woods or something like that?

Why would you even ask anything like that? Why would I want to do that?

Wouldn’t it be a lot more exciting than preaching?

We stare in silence again for a moment.

Papa breaks first, "Jerry, I want you to know that there is nothing more rewarding than seeing someone else’s life transformed by God when you’ve provided the first limb or two to help that person make the climb."

Really?

Yes. Now, do you have any questions that amount to anything?

I don’t reckon.

Okay then. When you decide you wanta talk and you do have legitimate questions, I’ll be ready to listen by the hardest.

Because you love me?

More than you’ll ever know.