a l i v e & a w a k e

 

A young, foolish farmer went out to buy an apple orchard so he could start a business of making delicious apple pies. He found a man who was interested in selling his apple orchard and arranged to meet with him the very next day.

After negotiating a fair price, the farmer gave the man the agreed amount of money and moved to his new property the following week. However, the foolish farmer didn’t even look at the trees, and so, was unaware of the disastrous problems that lay ahead.

Because it was early spring, the farmer busily prepared the orchard to produce the most apples. As spring became summer the farmer patiently watched the trees for the first sight of fruit.

Then one day, as the farmer was walking between the trees, he noticed something big and juicy hanging from one of the lower branches. Excitedly, he ran over to take a closer look.

However, he was disappointed to find a big, juicy pear!

Hmmm… he thought to himself, how did that pear end up in my apple orchard?

Disgusted, he picked the pear off the tree and flung it over the fence.

The next day as he was walking through his trees, he spotted another piece of fruit. Eagerly he ran over to examine what he thought was an apple… but was again disappointed to find another perfectly ripe pear. He threw it over the fence as well.

When this happened the third day, the farmer said to himself, How am I supposed to start an apple pie business if all I’m getting is pears?

This question bothered the foolish farmer so much that he decided to invite his equally ignorant brother to come over to help.

The two of them went out to inspect the fruit. By this time there were at least a dozen of beautiful pears hanging from a number of apple trees.

The ignorant brother thought and thought and thought… and finally said, “I have an idea”. He jumped in his car and drove to town.

When he came back he pulled two large cans of red paint from the back of his truck and two paintbrushes.

“We’ll paint them apples!” he exclaimed, lifting a brush high into the air.

That afternoon the brothers spent the better part of an hour painting pears red. When the pears-now-apples had finished drying, the two brothers decided to celebrate their victory over a delicious, fresh-baked apple pie.

It wasn’t long before a warm pie was slid on to the table. Grabbing two forks, the men began eating.

“Yuck!” they cried as they spit red stained mouthfuls on to the floor.

“They taste like pears and paint!” They decided that painting was a foolish idea indeed. The next day, the farmer called his half-witted cousin to come over to help him solve his pear problems.

The two brothers showed the cousin the apple trees with the big juicy pears hanging from them. The cousin thought and thought and thought… and finally said, “I have an idea!”

He jumped in his car and drove to town.

When he came back he pulled out of the backseat a baseball bat, a golf club and a hockey stick.

“We’ll whack them! That will teach them a lesson.” he exclaimed, lifting a bat high into the air.

The brothers and the cousin spent the better part of the afternoon whacking pears off the apple trees sending them over the fence and splattering them on the ground.

“That’ll teach them,” they said as they went into the house to celebrate their victory with a batch of cold cookies and warm milk.

Early the next morning the three of them went outside to see if the trees had indeed learned their lesson. But to their utter surprise, the found that every apple tree had pears hanging from them.

“What are we going to do now?” asked the ignorant brother. “You will never get a good apple pie business running when all you produce is pears!” The foolish farmer knew he was right.

So he finally decided to call his clueless grandfather to come help them solve their pear problem.

The two brothers and the half-witted cousin showed the grandfather the apple trees with the big, juicy pears hanging from them. The grandfather knew exactly what to do. He went to his motorbike and pulled out a chainsaw, a machete, a Swiss army knife and his pet beaver from the back of the bike.

“We’ll cut them trees!” he exclaimed, lifting a running chain saw into the air.

The brothers, the cousin and the grandfather spent the better part of the afternoon cutting off any branch that had a pear on the end of it. When they were done there were no branches left on any of the trees. The four of them and the beaver decided to celebrate their victory over chicken soup, fresh bread and the ripe apples that the grandmother had sent with the grandfather (the beaver ate one of the kitchen chairs). When they finished, they threw the apple cores out the window and went to bed.

The next day, when the foolish farmer, his ignorant brother, the half-witted cousin and the clueless grandfather went outside, they were horrified to see that every tree had died in the night. The apple orchard was gone!

Crushed by this sad turn of events, the farmer announced that he would not start an apple pie business, but would instead go live with his ignorant brother in the city and work with him in the factory that attached the chains to bathtub stoppers. The rest thought this was a very wise idea indeed.

As the vehicles left the orchard, they almost ran over the four young trees that had begun to grow under the kitchen window.

Jon

This is a simple story to illustrate that some of the clearest messages that God wants to say happen in the most unlikely places. The moral? Don't assume religion is doing all the talking.

Jon

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It was 9:30 Sunday morning.

 

Reverend William Stokes had risen early and was trying to concentrate on his last illustration for the sermon that morning.

 

Mr. Smith sat at the breakfast table deciding whether or not to eat the crusts off his toast and whether or not the sermon would teach him anything about God. Mrs. Smith was washing young Benjamin’s tangled hair, wishing he would sit still, and wishing her husband would sometimes help.

 

After placing a large stuffed turkey in the oven, Penelope was perched quietly in her favourite high-backed chair, carefully sipping a hot cup of peppermint tea. She was waiting for her ride to church.

 

Eva Longley shifted uncomfortably in her thick woolen blankets; contemplating how cold the nights were getting and marveling at how long she could go without a hot meal.

 

Further down the street, Fred the cop whistled a happy tune while swinging his billy stick. He was glad he wasn’t going to church because he believed he learned nothing there anyways.

 

The Robertson twins dressed in their Sunday best sat grumpily on the hall tree knowing they would miss their favourite shows on TV that morning.

 

After a late night of self-inflicted partying, Deacon Roger Dierston lay in his bed, trying to see through the blinding headache.

 

The church meeting would start at 10 O’clock.

 

 

******************************************

 

Mrs. Smith’s fingers danced joyfully across the old keys of the organ as the handful of choir members sang at the top of their lungs.

 

Benjamin Smith had found a spider under the pew and had managed to squeeze his entire body under his dad’s seat to watch it.

 

At 10:23 am, a random street person tried to get into the back doors of the church, but luckily Deacon Roger, who himself had entered late, was able to spare the congregation from any interruption, and turned him away.

 

Penelope sat as straight as a poker, piously holding a hymn book on the fingertips of her right hand.

 

Outside Fred the cop stopped whistling long enough to see if he knew what they were singing. He didn’t know, so he continued merrily on his way.

 

The hymns were sung. Deacon Roger collected all $67.58 of the offering. The children were seated in their proper places with paper and crayons in their hands.

 

Then Reverend Stokes preached vigorously for 53 minutes from the book of Isaiah while some people watched Deacon Dierston’s head bobbing lazily.

 

Mrs. Smith held Benjamin’s busy hand while giving the evil eye to her indifferent husband. Mr. Smith was feeling puzzled as to why he wasn’t learning anything new about God. Penelope was checking her gold watch, wondering how her turkey was doing.

 

And the Robertson twins were still grumpy.

 

****************************************************

 

At 11:16 am, the meeting was over. People wandered socially to their cars. As they left the old church building, Reverend Stokes shook every hand, particularly pleased to have used his new illustration in his sermon.

 

There was an argument in the Smith car.

 

Deacon Roger Dierston pulled from the parking lot and on to Main Street and checked his watch to see how much time he had to sleep before the football game.

 

Penelope was dropped off at home just in time to pull the perfect turkey from the oven.

 

The street person who was denied entrance into the church building by Deacon Roger found Eva still lying in her thick woolen blankets. Bending down, he placed his last crumpled bill in her hand…smiled… and walked away.

 

Fred, who was resting from his walk that morning, saw what the street person did. Surprisingly Fred learned something about God.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have you ever been so scared that all the hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention? Have you ever been so stupid that you almost didn't make it? If not, then disregard this story - you won't be able to relate.

My brother and I were travelling to Barrie to visit one of his friends. Upon arrival we decided to go out and do something that is common growing up in Bancroft - hiking. I know it sounds a bit tame, but it actually is enjoyable and usually something interesting happens. Well this night, it would be a bit unusually exciting.

Chrissy (not her real name) told us of a place just north on highway 11 where we could find a place to hike. We drove to a parking lot near an occasionally used train tracks. And because the night was well moonlit, we began to walk along the tracks. To be honest, it wasn't too interesting... until we reached a old bridge spanning a deep valley (probably about 10 storeys in height). The moon was full and bright, so we could see everything around us: the forests below, the thin sliver of a creek and the 2 silver lines of track. The bridge was about half a kilometer across the valley with no handrails (obviously) and nothing between the wooden tiles (which made stepping more of a challenge).

We soon were on our way across. Reassured that trains didn't come on Wednesdays, we took our time, talking lightly while enjoying the scenery. About half way we came to a rickety platform that may have been a maintenance station. What was left was little more a couple of railings and parts of the floor. Not safe at all. We continued.

Then, as we were minding our own business, there was a small red light that suddenly lit up on the other side of the bridge. Instantly we turned to Chrissy for answers. She shrugged, puzzled that the light usually meant that trains didn't come this time of the week. "There are no trains Wednesday."

Then it suddenly dawned on us. It was Thursday, and this was the 8 O'Clock train, right on time. In one of the most obvious and shortest conversations I've ever had I said, "Let's go." We turned around and started back in a kind of staggered, robotic run (trying to make sure we didn't miss any of the tiles). We got as far as the old platform.

At thsi point my brother had this brilliant idea of getting onto the platform while the train went by. Chrissy, who was more familiar with walking on these tracks, kept right on going making it to the other side safely. I wasn't so sure of myself heading back (I had visions of repeating a Stand-By-Me scene), and not to look like the fool, I stayed. To this day, I'm still not really sure why, since I hate heights and am supposed to be this responsible first born child. But there I was, lying face down on the platform, looking through the broken floor boards at the ground way below with my white-knuckled fingers clutching a rotting piece of wood. And there was Joe with a big toothy grin reassuring me that this was going to be awesome.

When the train hit the other side of the bridge, there was sickening motion, like being tossed on a small vessel on stormy waters. The whole structure swayed from side to side (and I mean the bridge!), and I could do everything just to hang on and not wet myself. But the most terrifying moments happened when the train actually passed by us. You have to understand that, at any point, we could have reached out and touched the train; we were that close. I could just picture some metal bar sticking out of the train passing through us like a knife through butter. But despite our close proximity, it was just the incredible noise of the wheels roaring in our ears and the violent jerking and swaying that posed any threat. It was so loud in fact that both of us were yelling at the top of lungs and we couldn't hear ourselves.

After an eternity (about 5 minutes) the train passed and headed off towards Barrie Central (I guess). Chrissy was waiting for us at the other side. I think I lied and said that it was indeed awesome. Actually I was ready to sacrifice a small innocent animal in thankfulness to God for sparing my life.

Moral to the story? Not sure. I'm sure anyone with an once of responsibility could come up with something, and maybe they can post me a comment. All I know, is that if there is a quota of stupid/exciting things you can do in your life and still be considered respectable (and not totally insane!), then I believe I have met it.

Jon

Egocentricity is a terrible thing. It blinds you from seeing others... period. At 20, I was very egocentric and it took a very upsetting situation to break me out of this warped perspective.

Michelle Peplinski had everything going for her. She was a beautiful, intelligent, athletic, fun, caring individual who was popular and heading towards a promising future in law. She was also very musical and could really sing. We had become good friends at a camp in which we were both counsellors. She was the kind of person that was enjoyable to be around.

It was an invite to sing at a youth group Christmas party that convinced her and her younger sister to leave their home in Richmond Hill and drive to Bancroft. Unfortunately the weather was brewing up a nasty winter storm. As they headed north of Bancroft to the camp, she lost control of the car, veered into the middle of the road, and was crushed by a log truck that ultimately plowed her back into a forested area along the road.

Michelle was killed instantly. Her sister miraculously survived with only a few scratches.

When we heard the news, it was like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my knees. I had never experienced the death of a friend, and it paralysed my senses. In the days to come, including the funeral, my mind was trying to grasp the reality of the situation, and not finding a way to understand it all. If you've lost someone close, you know what I'm talking about. There are always more unanswerable questions than answers. Death doesn't leave a lot of positives in its trail.

Except one. It quickly rearranges your priorities; you begin to see what's really important in life. As one person has said, "tragedy reminds us to stay awake to reality". My reality had been my own self-devleopment, garnished with regular dashes of friends. People were there to help serve my personal agenda; to aid me in my quest for importance and significance. But now, after Michelle's death, I began to see people, not just as parts of my world, but as the most important thing in life. I started to place high value on family and friends. In turn I found that relationships improved as I invested my "best" time, rather than giving some of my free leftover time.

My encouragement to you is to hear what I'm saying and learn this important perspective before you are taught it through a hard life-lesson. Success, fame, money, power, personal development, are not in themselves bad things. But to the person who find a new (or renewed) perspective and is able to see the importance of relationships, you will find the things that really matter; things like friendship, companionship, accountability and best of all - love.

Jon

It's funny how a little bit of fun can lead to so much....damage.

So it is the way in the life of most kids. We want to have fun. We just don't think; not because we don't want to. We just don't know that we need to. And the result are sometimes...well let's say, unprofitable for others.

I think we got more snow when I was a kid, because I can remember the Spring run-off meaning rivers of water coursing across our side lawn. The water would come from the forest behind us, cut through our apple and walnut trees and head into the ditch, where it would pass under our driveway via the culvert. From there is would tumble out the other side and down the ditch towards our neighbour's driveway. From there it would spill down a hill and run into a small creek at the bottom.

So one day in during the Spring run-off my little brother and I decided to have some fun. We slipped into oversized rubber boots, threw on our jackets and headed outside. Our bright idea of the day was to try to collect water in the ditch on one side of our driveway so we could play in it (exactly what you do in a freezing cold, dirty pond of water still eludes me to this day). The only way we figured we could pull this off was to plug up one side of the culvert; which we did with large rocks, mud, sticks and gravel.

According to the plan, the water soon began to collect and fill up the ditch. Whether it was before we ate lunch, or after, I can't remember but about mid-afternoon the water was getting to point of overflowing the ditch and running down the main highway. Even we knew this could be a problem in sub-zero nights of early April.

Hmmm. So how to let all this water go.........

To this day, I can honestly say there was no malicious or delinquent intention behind what we did next. We weren't smart enough for that. We simply figured the best was to suddenly open the plugged side of the culvert; which we did. I can only liken it to one of those scenes where the bumbling dad tries to fix the leaky pipe and it results in water shooting in every direction like fireworks. The pressure was so great as the water escaped from that culvert it cut away at the ditch on its journey towards our neighbours.

We probably spent half and hour watching it go, throwing sticks and other bits of stuff into the relentless stream. Finally the water pressure backed off enough for our interest to wane. We were curious to see where the water went and how much of the ditch it had eaten up. we made it as far as our neighbours' yard.

You could hear their shouts before you saw them. "Get the one over here!" "Open it, hurry" "Help me get this one." Joe and I ran to the voices to see what all the commotion was all about. Apparently when we released the water it did indeed carve a lot of the ditch away. In fact, in some places, the highway was beginning to collapse without the support beneath it. But as it reached our neighbour's culvert, nature had already played a very cruel trick. Over the winter stones, stick and various kinds of dirt had collected in one side of their culvert. This, combined with the lack of leaf raking in the fall in that area of the lawn, had left a perfectly formed plug. The oncoming water had no place to go....except on to their front lawn.

Our neighbours weren't the richest people in the world. Far from it, they were struggling to make ends meet. So as part of their financial strategy, they decided that they would try their hands at raising bunnies; bunnies that would be sold as pets, as food, as lucky rabbit's feet - whatever. Their front lawn was covered with cages, full of rabbits. When Joe and I arrived, we saw all those bunnies. Some were in the arms of the neighbours, some were hopping free at high points of the lawn. But most of those dear, little bunnies had already met their eventual fate and were floating ever-so-gently in the pooling water.

As to cover our part in the tragedy, Joe and I frantically ran over and began helping to free the bunnies, carefully drying them off and setting them free. We tried to avoid eye contact as well as show the same intensity of concern for this horrible "freak" accident. "I guess the run-off is huge this year", we eventually muttered when probed. The only person who seemed to enjoy this mishap was our neighbour's son, Jimmy.

"Check this out!", Jimmy begged, wide-eyed with excitement. We followed him inside his tired house to his basement door. "My parents are going to freak when they see this." Jimmy opened the door and turned on the light. From the top of the stairs you could tell something wasn't right... as most of Jimmy's mom's preserves floated by on the surface of a dark, brownish, swirling body of water.

Needless to say, our neighbours found paying the bills for the next few months a bit difficult while the population of rabbits suddenly exploded (my dad never had so much fun with target practice). It only took a burnt front lawn the following summer to convince our neighbours that maybe living next to the Tenthorey's was such a good idea. But that's another story altogether.

Jon