In the rural reaches of...
Illustration
In the rural reaches of the St. Lawrence River Valley, residents remember the story of an old farmer who shocked, then soothed, his family nearly one hundred years ago. As he approached the end of his long life, he asked that after his death, they take his body and bury it in some unmarked place beneath a tree in the rich northern forest bordering his farm. The man's sons and daughters protested. How would people know where he was buried? In a few short years all would forget.
"You're right," the man answered. "But God will remember. That's really enough."
When the time came, the man's children buried him as he wished. Decades passed. Ancient trees in the forest have been harvested. New ones have grown to near maturity. Nobody can point to the place of the old man's grave. And yet, long after letters on a stone would have yielded to the pressures of harsh northern winters, there lives the witness of a man who looked on God in his heart and trusted.
"You're right," the man answered. "But God will remember. That's really enough."
When the time came, the man's children buried him as he wished. Decades passed. Ancient trees in the forest have been harvested. New ones have grown to near maturity. Nobody can point to the place of the old man's grave. And yet, long after letters on a stone would have yielded to the pressures of harsh northern winters, there lives the witness of a man who looked on God in his heart and trusted.
