The Giant Forest, page 17
Bart headed to a clearing where he often ran into his friend, Zeke. Happilly he found Zeke was there!
“Zeke! Zeke! Look what was left on my doorstep this morning!”
“It’s a piece of old cloth. What’s the big deal?”
“It’s from a cap that Prissie made for Artie! I know it is! I remember!’
“Hang on. Hang on. Are you saying this piece of cloth was from a cap your son was wearing? What? More than 12 years ago? And you remember?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“And it showed up on your doorstep this morning?”
“Yes. That’s right!”
“You don’t have to shout all your answers, Bart. I am standing right here.”
“Don’t you see? This is evidence that Artie or …” Bart didn’t want to finish his sentence for fear he might have to say out loud for the first time, “some remains of Artie.” Bart knew that his son was gone. He had just never said it out loud before. “It’s something that was Artie’s. And it showed up just today. I want to find out how it got to my doorstep. Maybe I will be able to find more of …” Bart didn’t finish his sentence this time.
“Alright my old friend. I am happy to help pick up the search again. But I am not sure we want to get the others involved. Okay? I am not even sure that I want to find anything.” He said the last sentence softly.
“Sure! Sure! Even you can’t spare the time, I understand. But there is nothing going to stop me from looking. Nothing.”
“Do you smell that?” Zeke questioned.
“Uh, I do … smell … THAT!”
Both knew instantly and perfectly well what was causing the smell.
“SMOKE!” They exclaimed together in union.
“Where there’s smoke there’s fire!” Zeke cried.
“Look!” Bart screeched. “The smoke is coming from the direction of my house! I gotta go!! I gotta go back now!”
Bart didn’t realize it at the time, but there was something that could stop him from following up on a piece of cloth, a piece of a previous lifetime, a piece of Artie. There was something that could cause him to set aside all hope, even a sliver of hope of finding his first son. His current family!
“I’ll go for help, Bart. You’d better get home.”
Bart ran as quickly as his 80-something year old legs could move. He was still able to leap over fallen trees, duck on the run below overhanging limbs and hop stone to stone when crossing a creek. As Bart neared home he could see fire in the brush on both sides of the worn path he and his family had created over the years.
He could hear Prissie screaming, not uncontrollably, but loudly and forcibly enough to grab the attention of all the kids from wherever they might be on the grounds. “In the house! Everyone to the big house! Hurry!!”
Bart ran up the front steps and entered the house. “Is everyone here?” Bart asked breathlessly.
“All the kids are present and accounted for,” Prissie replied.
Mighty crashes followed one after another outside their home.
It wasn’t long before the fire raged, toppling trees and sending large flumes skyward much like smoke signals of some ancient civilization. But much bigger.
Bart and Prissie realized they were engulfed in an all out giant forest fire and the only thing they could do was ride it out … and hope that their home could withstand the blazes.
Another magnificent clap came from above. The sky seen through the windows went dark.
A flash burst out and yet another thundering blast followed. Then a downpour. Hail pummeled the roof of the house. No hailstones broke through. Rain streamed over the sides of the roof. And yet, just when the terrified family thought it couldn’t rain any harder, another flash, crash, rumble and bang was followed by a stronger torrent.
All of a sudden, as if the omnipotent One turned off the spicket, the rain stopped. Bart, Prissie and the kids, huddled in the middle of the big house looked at one another, each one taking a turn to look in each other’s eyes, one by one telling one another silently that they were all okay but not believing themselves that they were.
The rain had stopped. The fire was out. Nearly as quickly as the fire had grown to a seemingly uncontrollable rage, it was silenced, muzzled. Drenched.
Bart was the first to tip toe outside. There were new streams coming down from the hill behind the house and flowing steadily down the mountain away from their home.
The fire was out. However, around them stood dozens of coal black tree spires with nubby limbs as if used up matchsticks were stuck in the ground.
Behind him was the house. Burnt, scarred but fully intact. The other cabins Bart had built were standing strong as well. Bart had done a good job. He built homes and cabins that could endure. He had built them out of a giant redwood, perhaps the one-time king of trees in this giant forest where they had made their home.
The irony was not lost on Bart. Bart had taken the life of a stalwart tree. Cut it down. And yet that tree, it’s bark proving to be too thick to burn through, had protected, had saved him and his loved ones from a certain death.
Prissie and the kids came trickling out of the house to see the ruins for themselves.
Bart made his way to the nearby cabins. Windows were gone and there were scars on the outer walls. As he opened the doors of each cabin he was startled to find that he and his family were not the only ones who were protected by the sacrificial tree.
Animals had found their way into the cabins. They had climbed through open windows or poked through loose floorboards. Out of the cabins came beavers, badgers, butterflies and bugs, mostly beetles. Out through the door of one cabin came a family of bears! Bart wisely stepped aside and let them go on their way.
Bart and Prissie’s family had been spared. Other animal families had been spared as well.
The evening meal was a solemn yet joyful time.
“Prissie. Kids. Let’s give thanks to God that we survived. Let’s give thanks to God who supplied this giant redwood that protected us. Let’s give thanks to God that he has provided. And let’s ask God to guide us as we prepare to leave.”
“Leave?” All the kids chimed in unison.
“Are we leaving?” Prissie asked Bart showing the kids for the first time that their mother and father were not united in their thinking.
“”Prissie. Everything has been destroyed. I just can’t see how we can continue on. We have no choice but to take our belongings, pull up stakes and leave. Our tools are gone. There is nothing nearby to rebuild with. It’s … ” for the first time in his life, Bart said the word, “… hopeless.”
The door rattled from a knock. The knock was in a peculiar rhythm that Bart and Prissie had heard before.
Wide-eyed, Prissie motioned to Bart, “You’d better get that.”
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Discussion Questions:
Have you ever finally given up on a plan only then to have something work out?
Have you ever had to make a choice between things that were equally important to you?
How long will you wait for someone you deeply love to return to you if they have gone away?
Forty Three
Animals Are Like T-shirts
Animals are like t-shirts. They come in different sizes. XS, S, M, L, XL and so on.
Senti would be XS size. Bligh would be M. And Mounty would be XXL. Mounty was huge. Part dog, part wolf. Many an animal backed away from a fight with Mounty. He could win fights just by being bigger than his opponent.
Cesar was off the charts. 10XL, 20XL? No one had ever seen any land animal the size of Ceasar. Except that is the giants who cared for Cesar. Or maybe it was it the other way around. Ceasar looked out for the giants.
Ceasar was not whale sized. But he was a whale of a land animal. Standing on all fours, Ceasar’s back was as tall as Gorge, the giant who had gone to fetch him. When Ceasar reared back and stood up on his hind legs alone, the giants had to crane their necks back to look up to him. Ceasar was head and shoulders and half a body length taller than the tallest giant.
Gorge motioned to Ceasar to stand tall. Ceasar obliged.
Gorge spun his arms around as if he were trying to fly. It required a bit of effort but Gorge began to pick up speed. When Gorge appeared to reach max speed he stopped, bringing both hands up to his giant mouth and cupped his hands around his mouth as if they were a megaphone.
Ceasar responded to Gorge’s action with a deafening ROAR! The other giants who had come to know what to expect had put their hands over their ears in anticipation. Still they had to duck and lean away from Ceasar. Gorge leaned in towards Ceasar in preparation. Even so, Ceasar’s mighty effort pushed Gorge back upright, then caused him to take a few quick steps back.
Standing on the opposite side of the field, Sycamore, Senti, Bligh and Mounty felt the hot wind from Ceasar’s roar.. The hair on each of their necks stood up. That is, on each of them except for Senti. Senti stepped forward as if she were up for the challenge, no matter the size of the opponent.
Next, Mounty stepped forward, straddling Senti beneath his huge body. Mounty, however, didn’t rare up, back up or stand up. Mounty just stood there facing Ceasar.
Ceasar splayed his paws to show his enormous claws. He followed the roar with a growl that showed his teeth - fangs, incisors that everyone present realized were sharp enough and accompanied with jaws powerful enough that he could swallow Senti whole, maybe Bligh, too and perhaps most of Mounty.
Never had anyone imagined much less seen an animal as ferocious looking as Ceasar.
Sycamore might have preferred, to cut his losses, to run to save his own skin but later when he recounted this story he told his friends, “I decided I would rather stay and die with my friends than leave them behind to such a ruthless beast. Besides. Perhaps if he ate me first he’d be too full to eat you.” Nobody laughed.
“I thought I would be able to tell anyone who would listen, that I did my best. But would it matter if my best still resulted in you all being eaten.” Still, nobody laughed.
Ceasar had lived with the giants for many years, ate giant food and breathed in giant air. Consequently, this part-Kodiak, part-polar, part-grizzly and all giant bear of a monster had grown to become a monster of a bear.
Mounty and Ceasar each took a step closer to one another. The giants giggled in glee. Sycamore wanted to pull Mounty back but Mounty was already out of reach. Besides there was nothing for Sycamore to grab onto.
Each took another step closer to one another. Without signal, much like two gunslingers drawing simultaneously, Ceasar and Mounty took off towards one another. Mounty got to full speed more quickly than Ceasar. Within moments they were each within lurching distance of one another.
Mounty took flight. Ceasar raised himself up slowly. Giant animals move slowly, too.
Mounty landed at Ceasar’s chest. Ceasar didn’t budge, nor did Mounty bounce off. Instead Ceasar’s powerful forelimbs caught and wrapped around Mounty. Ceasar fell forward on top of Mounty and the two of them began to roll. Ceasar was large enough to smother Mounty, bite him in half or just slice him into several equal pieces with his powerful claws.
Instead, they just rolled. Over and over and over again. A few moments later Mounty was free and back on all fours. Ceasar, too. Mounty stood on his hind legs as if to show himself larger. Ceasar responded by shaking himself all over as if he were just given a bath and needed to get the wet off.
The two powerful beasts locked up again, both on their hind legs as if they two enormous beasts were doing a waltz. And once again each backed off. They each jumped at the same time and all eight paws were in midair at the same time.
There was no growling. No fur flying. No teeth showing. No blood. The two potent animals, it turns out, weren’t fighting at all. They were … frolicking. They were playing with one another.
Ceasar, the bear the size of a mountain and Mounty the wolf-dog with the heart of a bear knew each other! They were friends! Friends who had reunited in this most unlikely of places and circumstances. Nobody knew from when they became friends but all hoped that someday they would find out. Ceasar and Mounty were friends who had found one another again and were thrilled to see one another.
What else nobody could know was which animal would join which animal’s side in the fight to come. Would Mounty join Ceasar to the joy of the giants, or would Ceasar take the side of Mounty and the kids?
Everyone in the field would find out very soon enough.
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Discussion Questions:
When is the most tense time you have ever experienced?
Have you ever completely misunderstood what two people were doing or saying to one another?
Have you ever found yourself in the position where the decision of another will determine your immediate welfare?
Forty Four
First You Have to Give Up
The only time there was a knock on the door was when a kid was being left at the doorstep, always very late in the evening or perhaps early morning, under the cover of darkness while the other kids were asleep.
Oftentimes, when the kids woke up in the morning they might find a new brother or sister at the table.
“Look! There’s another one of us!”
“Indeedie! You kids are such a joy that God has blessed our family with another bundle.”
New kids came to their home by a variety of methods.
One baby came in a wooden bucket. His brothers and sisters called him “Bucky.” Naturally.
Another baby arrived in a cowboy hat turned upside down. Her nickname? “Hattie.”
Yet another time two little ones, twins, joined the family in a pair of saddle bags. Their names, “Saddle and Sadie.”
The knock at the door was repeated. Once again in the same familiar rhythm they had heard only once before many years ago.
The kids looked wide-eyed at one another wondering out loud what was going on at the door. They had never heard a knock before. There was never a reason for someone to knock on the door. They were never awake when a visitor came.
“Daddy. What’s wrong with the door? Why is it making that noise?” Bug asked. Bug had come to live with the Hermons in a buggy.
“Bart? Are you going to get that?” Prissie asked again.
Bart’s hands trembled. And his legs began to wobble. “W … W … We’ve heard that distinctive knock rhythm before.”
“Daddy. What’s a ‘knocker thumb?” the littlest one, Pappy, asked. Pappy had been dropped off in a papoose. The Hermons had a diversity of kids who came from all over. And for that they were especially happy.
“Bart. Answer the door.”
“I will. I am. I will. Gimme a moment, woman.”
Bart stepped cautiously toward the door and very slowly raised the lever that held the door shut.
A muffled CLANK sounded and the door swung open slowly towards the outside.
Bart stood there motionless. After what may have been moments but seemed like minutes, Bart finally muttered, “Prissie! You’d better come to the door.”
“What did you say, man?!” Prissie retorted in response to Bart’s uncharacteristic ‘woman’ reference.
Both were acting out of character.
“Here we are getting ready to leave the mountain and no doubt still more folks are planning to join us, I reckon. Or give us more mouths to feed,” Prissie chirped, trying to sound upbeat as she made her way to the door.
“Where are we going to … ” Prissie stopped mid-thought.
Both Bart and Prissie stood gaping at their newest visitor, um visitors.
All the children made a ruckus, pushing chairs back as they left the table and came running to the door. One chair fell over backwards. The children gathered around their parents, the oldest child holding the youngest in her arms. The smaller ones tugged on Prissie’s dress. One hid in the creases of her long flowing dress. The older boys stood as tall as their little frames would allow them next to and just behind Bart.
“Hi, Mom. Dad. I missed you two so very much. I’m back. And, I’ve brought help.”
Stunned. Mouths gaping. Speechless. Bart and Prissie, as if they were seeing a ghost, found themselves standing face to face with … Artie.
“Mom. Dad. This is my wife, Rose. And our two little ones, little Bart and Silla. We’ve come back to help out.”
Bart and Priscilla reached for one another’s hands, still unable to speak.
“We would have been here sooner, but the fire. You know. The fire prevented us from getting here before now. We came as soon as we could.”
