One Man’s Trash is Another’s Treasure


by Peter van Gorder


When we lack faith, we miss miracles that are trying to be delivered to us. Life is a lot about having the faith to see possibilities that others might overlook. Take apple seeds for example.  Most people throw away the core and seeds as worthless, but someone with faith as small as that seed might see in them a world of opportunity.


When His disciples were frustrated that they were unable to get rid of a bad spirit, Jesus told them that they were ineffectual because of their unbelief. When they asked Him to increase their faith He told them, “Verily I say unto you, if ye have faith as an apple seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.” Matthew 17:20.


“Hey, wait a minute!” some of you Bible scholars out there might complain, “Jesus said mustard seed, not apple seed.” Right, excuse me for taking liberties, but the point he was trying to make was that if we just have a little bit of faith we can accomplish a lot – even move mountains!  And that was before the invention of dynamite or huge dumper trucks to blast and haul mountains.  I mention apple seeds I guess because I haven’t seen many mustard trees growing.


Behind my house though is an old and venerable apple tree. Come August the grass below is full of apples – most of them with a worm or two squiggling about, as we don’t use pesticides. The majority are only fit for the compost, but cut out the bad bits before the worm has gotten too comfortable, slice and chop them and you can make a fantastic apple pie.


This brings me to one of my favorite examples of a man who had a lot of faith to see opportunities in small possibilities. I am talking about John Chapman, affectionately known as Johnny Appleseed. Much legend abounds concerning this American folk hero, but there is enough truth about his life to warrant a whopping good tale!


Johnny Appleseed lived from 1774 – 1845 and came from the area of my home town- Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He collected the discarded apple seeds from the apple cider mills, then cleaned and dried them in preparation for planting. He would put them in a pouch and set off to the pioneer areas out west that were just being settled at that time. He planted apple nurseries with his seeds and nurtured them until they were saplings; big enough to sell or barter for clothes and other items. I suppose this was the reason his clothes always looked way too big for him.


With a pot on his head, this barefoot Bible Believer was a welcome blessing to the settlers he visited. They invited him into their homes, glad to hear news from the places Johnny had just been to and the stories he had to tell. He also was a kind of mobile lending library because he had his Bible divided up into sections and would leave one book with a settler home and then exchange it for another book when he passed through that same way again.


Friends with the Native Americans who lived in that area, Johnny tried to be an ambassador of goodwill and a peacemaker, but when he heard that an attack was planned, he ran 30 miles to the pioneer settlement to warn them, thereby saving many lives.


Though apple trees grown from seeds are seldom sweet, the apples Johnny grew were in much demand for apple cider, to mark land boundaries, and as a food preservative.


Like Johnny we can grab ahold of the opportunities that come our way. When the doors or windows of possibilities open to us, we can enter in and partake of the blessings that God has for us and in the lives of others that we touch. Realizing an opportunity is just the first step and then comes all the steps that follow to bring that possibility to fruition – not unlike the many challenges Johnny faced nurturing apple trees from seeds.






2 Rubber Bands that Saved a Life


by Peter van Gorder from a true story related from Josiah Lorenzo

I met my friend at a party and asked him something I had often wondered about.

“Hey, Ken, how come I always see you wearing those 2 rubber bands around your wrist?”

“I wear these to remind me of the Lord’s protection.”

My bewilderment was easy to read as I wondered how that could be.

“He can turn around any life-threatening situation when we pray and use the possibilities that others might miss. It’s up to the man of faith to grab those possibilities where God is guiding.”

Still seeing my befuddlement, he proceeded to elucidate.

“I was in Metkovic, Herzegovina right after the civil war – a time when suspicions ran high. I was doing clown, magic, and educational shows with my colleagues. At the time I was taking a few photos of the area when a policeman rushed at me, grabbed my camera, and abruptly hauled me to the station.”

“I was indignant, “What are you doing? Give me back my camera!’”

“No explanation was attempted. I didn’t understand a thing until they brought in their official translator.”

“The officer told me, ‘We are holding you for questioning.’”

“On what charge?”

“’Of being an American spy!’ he barked.

“No! There has been a terrible misunderstanding. I am doing magic and entertainment programs for children.”

“We don’t believe you!”

“At this point, the translator stopped translating and left the room. She didn’t want to be associated with someone who might soon disappear as she had heard happen before.”

“I was praying desperately when he said in his broken English, ‘Do trick!’”

“I looked down at my wrist and my magic rubber bands seemed to call out to me.”

“Hey, wait a minute, rubber bands don’t talk,” I interrupted.

“These ones did. I mean speak to me metaphorically, you know.”

“Oh, now I get it. Ok, go on.”

“I proceeded to do a trick where the 2 rubber bands seem to be locked inside each other but then mysteriously are freed with a sleight of hand.”

“Did it work?”

“The chief was amazed at this simple trick and called in all of his colleagues. Several officers tried to replicate the trick unsuccessfully.”

“The chief called the translator back in to tell me I was free to go but had to erase the photos.”

“From that point on, I always wear these rubber bands.”

“Here let me teach you the trick in case you need it someday.”





Life’s Flowing Stream


by Peter van Gorder

Word pictures are a handy way to grasp abstract concepts – the obscure made plain. I picked up one the other day that personified my faith journey, my work, or even the cycles of a movement. I’m talking about deltas and the river’s flow that created them.

Beginning high in the mountains, natural forces and pressures cause the stream to bubble up out of the ground fresh like a babbling baby, full of energy, and unspoiled by pollution in an unending flow. If you have ever tasted cool spring water straight from the source, you know what a tasty treat it is. People eagerly line up to get their containers filled. Cool, pure, spring water is so much more refreshing than city tap water.

It then flows downhill, looking for an empty space, avoiding the rocks and obstacles, until it joins up with other rivulets, streams, and becomes a mighty river.  The river is mostly a blessing – bearing large ships on its back and bringing life wherever it flows, but sometimes in excess, its floods can destroy and waste as well.

On it tumbles until it reaches the sea, but before it does, it spreads out and slows down depositing the soil’s nutrients that it has carried such long distances. Deltas are much treasured as they make fertile farmland that becomes the breadbasket of that land, as in Egypt.

You may have guessed the spiritual application of this parable, but if not, let me help you out.

The spring is the fresh inspiration that comes from the source. It is the origins of our ideas and work. From that humble beginning the stream flows out to bless the land.  It joins forces with others of like mind and going the same direction. It becomes a force to reckon with. Extremes and excesses in this energy can hurt and destroy. If the energy can be channeled its power can be a force for good.

Finally, the river spreads out into each branch – flowing slower now. It is then that each inspired idea or project leaves it legacy. As its true value and benefits are used and nurtured, it gives life and nourishment.

We may find ourselves in any one of these different stages, but we know that if our inspiration has come from a true and inspired source, our life-giving flow will reach its determined destination. Let it flow!


River Flow

The river flows quiet and swift
It twists and turns as the waters drift
It branches and breaks—its fingers entwine
It grows and grows—snakes like a vine.

The river with the soft scent of a calm day
With the smell of clean—hanging—still—in the grey
And sweetness carried on the breath of morning
It caresses the river—the waters flowing.

The river—crystalline from winter melt
And sweet with the summer soon felt
It tastes of springtime—the season between
And flows the river—so blue and clean.

The river—its lazy trickle of water
The musical rhythm—the ocean’s daughter
It whispers and murmurs—a song of its own
Playing over and over—in continuous drone.

The river—so clear and cool
The water flows—the color like a jewel
Its soft arms embrace the shore
The river surging from the days before.

The river flows quiet and swift
It twists and turns as the waters drift
It branches and breaks—its fingers in twine
It grows and grows—snakes like a vine.

Kailey Jennings




The Seasons of Life


by Peter van Gorder



Ecc 3:1  To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:


Our theatre group regularly performs a dynamic skit based on a monologue from the Shakespeare play “As You Like It” where he summarizes the seasons of our lives in 7 stages: the crying baby, the reluctant school boy, the pining lover, the fierce soldier, the wise judge, the old man, and finally death. Shakespeare  ends it there, but we know from our faith and the testimonials of those who have been there and have come back that there is one more season of life – the everlasting afterlife.

The bard got me to thinking of the seasons of life I find myself going through. We live through so many cycles and seasons both big and small:  the day, the month, our lives, and our work. In working on our various projects, it helps to step back and see how the process of seasons works.  In that way, we can know where we are in the change and growth cycle and what to expect next. For example if you are going through a tough time, it gives us hope if we know that though we are in a ‘winter stage’ the spring will come with new life.

In my travels I have noticed that those countries that have more subtle variations in the tropics, have a completely different flora and feeling from the countries that have 4 distinct seasons. When summer arrives in the temperate climes, life busts out all over, like the song:

June is bustin’ out all over

All over the meadow and the hill

Flowers bustin’ out on bushes

And the rushing river pushes

Ev’ry little wheel that wheels beside the mill

June is bustin’ out all over

But the summer’s by God,

We can feel it come,

You can feel it in your heart

You can see it in the ground

You can see it in the trees

You can smell it in the breeze

Look around! Look around! Look around!

(from the musical Carousel)

I took a walk in the mountains of Romania recently and I was amazed at how vibrant life was there. Bright wild flowers popped out every which way – each with their bevy of bees and other prolific pollinators ensuring the next generation of flowers to come. Greenery competed for the sunlight in every available patch of land; even the puddles were full of tadpoles, water striders, and myriad tiny water oddities.

It seems they know that their time is short and that soon Cold will dominate the land once again to bring deep sleep upon the land until once again, the axis of the earth shifts towards the sun. The people of these various climates are also affected. It seems that those living in tropical countries tend to be a bit more relaxed and less work oriented; nature seems to be the same way. Life seems to meander along not sleep then explode.

Applying an understanding of the seasonal changes in our work can help us to know what to expect next. An ancient Chinese text from the military tactician Sun Tzu called The Art of War gives us an overview of how change and innovation occur in societies, businesses, nations, and individually.

Simply put, the phases in the growth of an idea, project, innovation, organization, or nation, can be symbolized by 5 seasons or stages in this order: metal, water, wood, fire, and earth.

In the beginning metal phase, there is discontent. The need for change is apparent. Who will get the ball rolling and defy the status quo? Like the story of the big rock in the road that was blocking the traffic, everyone was shouting, “Somebody should move that rock!” – but no one did. The ‘who’, is probably you! The ‘he’ is me. The ‘they’ is I. This is where we get the ‘calling’. Ask: In line with our mission, what needs to be changed for the better?

In the next phase of water – our imagination comes into action. We play with possibilities and try to picture what the ideal future for us would look like. We flow and splash around with ideas until we find the best one/s. Ask: What challenges do we face and how could we overcome them to get where we want to be? What does a better future look like?

In the wood stage, we have chosen our idea to implement and begin to assemble our resources. We build a team and make a plan. At this stage effort often seems to overshadow results.

When we enter the fire phase, our innovation or project breaks out and we begin to burn. We have to keep the heat and get others interested – to catch others on fire as well. Now the idea is working and giving light to all and it is being a blessing to many.

Earth is the last phase before the cycle repeats itself. Once our project is running, we have to make it sustainable and keep long term growth without it running out of steam. We must fight deterioration with more new innovation and keep fresh and alive or we will begin to lose what we have gained.

In our projects, different people we work with may be at different seasons or stages. That is healthy. It is the leader’s job to keep them all working together in harmony and fulfilling their purpose. Discontent can be helpful to find new directions of growth. Water and new ideas are always needed to keep improving. Wood is needed for structure and putting landing gear on our ideas. Fire is a sign that people are getting something done and giving heat and light. Earth is needed for stability and to build walls of defense against possible attacks. When all of these are working together in unity, we can go somewhere wonderful and be very fruitful.

We can be sure that we will continue to grow and prosper if we keep following His lead. Jesus is the Good Shepherd and knows where the mountain streams are and how to avoid the wolves. If we follow, He will lead us through the valley of death into green pastures regardless of the time or the season we find ourselves in.


Selfish Chief


by Peter van Gorder



Servant – Munaku

Old Blind Man

Wise Man – Mogezhi

Villagers various ages



African Chief

African villagers and servant

Old blind man

Wise man – like Shaman





Begging cup



Sign 1

“No one shall drink from this well except for my family.

 If anyone else dare to drink from these waters, they shall die.”


Sign 2              “Well for village use only at night.”

Sign 3

                        “Come, whoever is thirsty, drink of these waters freely.”



Vessels for Villagers to carry water in




Pre-recorded track.

Water flowing (well) on separate track


Time : 6 minutes

       Level of Difficulty:   Medium   Class V – 1 of 2 stories ( 10 year olds )


Well  – circular

Old building flat

Water – could use plastic sheets to look like water.  For audience interaction you could have some real water that you throw out over the audience.


Staging Notes: As you rehearse this story, you may find that some parts need to be given more time. Make note of those parts and additional time can be included in the track to help it flow smoothly with the live action. Try though to tighten the time in exits and entrances and see if you can still act out the story well without any additional time inserted.

 Signs could be projected on the screen as well to emphasize their message.

Villagers stagger across the stage weak from thirst. One turns over his skin bag and twists it to get the last drop. Another sees a flower but it wilts in his hand. Another Villager holds up some dust that falls from his hand and is carried by the wind.  Exit Villagers. Enter king and servant (Munaku).  The King orders his servant to start digging and he does.

StoryTeller:  Once upon a time there was a village in Africa.  The chief was a very selfish chief who one day found water and dug himself a well.

Chief:  Well, at last my well is finished.  Now I will post my sign. Munaku, bring my hammer and put it up immediately.

Munaku:  Yes, your majesty.  (The Servant hammers a sign up over the well.)

StoryTeller:  The servant hammered up a wooden sign over the well which read:

“No one shall drink from this well except for my family.

 If anyone else dare to drink from these waters, they shall die.”


Chief:  Excellent. Now I will have all the water I need.

(An old blind man stumbles onto the stage holding out his cup and tapping with his cane. He bumps into the King and the Servant.)

StoryTeller:  Just then an old man stumbled down the path tapping his stick and bumped into the chief.  He held out his cup and cried:

Old Man:  Water, water,…Please may I have some water?

Chief:  Go away old man, before I throw you into a very deep pit. Can’t you read the sign? This well is only for me and my family.

Old Man:  But forgive me O, great one for I am blind.

Chief:  That is no excuse. I will forgive you this time, but do not ever come back here again begging for my water.

Old Man:  Yes, of course, thank you for your mercy O, great one.

             (exit of Old Blind Man still tapping as he leaves. King and Servant also exit and return.)

StoryTeller:  The next day, the chief and his servant came back once again to the well to collect a bucket of water.

Chief: Munaku, throw that bucket inside the well, now.

          (The king points into the well and the Servant throws the bucket inside the well.)

Munaku: Yes, your majesty.

StoryTeller:  The bucket hit the bottom with a clunking noise. The chief looked inside his new well, in disappointed surprise.

Chief: What? There is no water in my well. Why not? Oh, well, maybe the water will come in a few days.

(Chief and Servant exit and return)

StoryTeller:  But every day he came to his well it was always dry.

Chief: Why does the water not come for heaven’s sake?

      (Chief calls for his wise man- servant brings in the wise man Mogezhi)

StoryTeller:  At last, he called his wise man and asked him:

Chief:  Mogezhi, if you value your life, show me the reason why my well remains empty.

Mogezhi: O chief, live forever, the well will be dry until the day you share it with your people.

Chief:  What? Emmmm! All right, very well then, the people of the village may draw water from the well only during the night, but I shall have it all day.

                        (Servant takes down old sign and posts new sign:

“Well for village use only at night.” )

StoryTeller:  And so it was decreed and the chief returned to the well the next day to see if the water had come.

Chief:  (looking inside well)   What? Still no water? Emm, perhaps, I will wait til nightfall and see what happens when people come to drink but I will hide in this empty building and watch from here so no one shall see me.

                    (lights dim Chief hides himself behind a flat that represents an old building)

StoryTeller:  As soon as the sun went down, all the villagers came to the well with empty vessels to draw water.

                   (enter villagers with vessels to fill water)

Villager:  Praise be to God – Water!

Village Woman:  It is cold and fresh and plentiful. Come children, there is enough to bathe in.

          (Children and Villagers play in the water and drink from it and fill their vessels.)

StoryTeller: Everyone drank and filled their pitchers to their heart’s content. All the village children had a fun time splashing and throwing water at each other until everyone was thoroughly wet. The chief went home quite puzzled and quite thirsty for he was ashamed to ask the villagers for water after he had been so selfish. The following day, as soon as the sun arose, the chief called to his servant.

   (all villagers exit with full vessels and Chief exits as well.)

   (Chief calls for servant – servant arrives with paintbrush and sign)

Chief: Come Munaku, and paint what I command.

Munaku: Yes, O, great one. It shall be written even as you have commanded.

(The chief whispers in the ear of Munaku the message. Munaku paints sign with sign’s   back to audience as Chief looks on.)

Chief: (laughing) Ahh, yes, that is good, that is very good.

StoryTeller:  The chief looked on in pleasure as his servant painted the new sign which read:

         “Come, whoever is thirsty, drink of these waters freely.”

StoryTeller:  Almost before the paint was dry, the chief could hear the pleasant sound of water gurgling and bubbling up from below.

Chief:  (looking into the well with servant and pointing)  Look, look, Munaku, soon the well will be full to the top.

Munaku: Yes, Yes, oh great one, and look all the villagers are coming out to drink.

         (King motions for Munaku to join him as they join the villagers dancing and playing. When the King arrives, everyone is afraid and surprised but then after realizing that he is changed join in the fun with him. All dance, drink, and play. The blind man also enters and joins in the fun with the Chief guiding him into the water and playing with him. The Wise Man – Mogezhi also joins in the fun.)

StoryTeller:  Everyone was surprised to see the formerly grumpy, mean and selfish chief, drinking, laughing, and joking with all of the villagers. From that day on, the well continued to give an abundance of fresh, clean, sweet water, even throughout the drought. It became known throughout the land as the well that never run dry. And thus was fulfilled the scripture:

“For the liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth, shall be watered also.”


Bless Your Hands


by Peter van Gorder

Farsi, Arabic, and Greek have common expressions which mean ‘bless your hands’. There is something blessed about using your hands to grow, shape, or create something beautiful or useful. It gives joy and fulfillment to the one who uses those blessed hands as well as the one who receives the fruit of their labors.

On the other hand (pun intended) there are some people who make a living at a trade that creates nothing – or less than nothing. I recently visited my friend who is quitting his job as a forex (currency) trader. He was deeply disheartened by what he had to do every day – which was to make a profit from his client’s losses. He was full of his subject and tried to educate me with terms like: basket of shorts, bear squeeze, cryptocurrency, dirty float, scalping & slipping, short margin, and a host of others. Most of it went over my head, but a few pointed questions to him gave me enough insight to know it is an area of business I never want to wade into.

I asked, “How many of your clients make money?” He told me, “Only 5% of my customers can ever expect to make any kind of profit. In fact, the only way that our company can make any money is by the commissions that we get from selling and buying, which is particularly high when a client loses everything.”

He went on to explain that this kind of financial trading is a lot like gambling with customers making one more trade in hope of winning big with their next deal and recouping their loses. Like gambling, it is the ‘house’ that almost always wins. In fact, his boss had instructed him to make his clients heavily lose money in order to fill the company’s coffers. He lamented how the boss was not satisfied with just cheating his clients, but had now started to shortchange his employees as well and remake the rules of the game to his advantage. It was time to move on and ‘get a life’.


In contrast to the financial wizards are the ‘green thumbers’. A friend of mine just wrote:


“I just spent the better part of a week out in the garden. I can honestly say there is nothing one can do that is more rewarding than planting the pea, the nasturtium, or the tomato. I have done many things in my life, but seriously, nothing matches gardening. I grew up with my hands in the soil and remember well the joy.

“When I finish the day in the garden, I always have to stop at least 20 minutes and reflect on the deed.

“It is one of the most fulfilling senses of accomplishment I’ve ever felt. I know in the realm of worldly accomplishments it isn’t worth mentioning, but on the most basic level of human endeavors the acts of renewing the earth and fulfilling the calling of Adam to garden and commune with the Creator through this process is one of the highest yet humblest callings in life.

“The vast majority of people in the third world are committed to this vocation. 70% of Chinese lives are defined by the hoe and shovel…..that’s about 1 billion people and it is the about the same percentage for most of the countries throughout the world.

“For many though, “prosperity” has become more and more a process of meaningless financial/ service industries. Let’s get “back” to the garden. So many problems would solve themselves if life were simpler.

“Some people have asked me. “How many hours did I spend working in the garden a week?” I respond, “I really don’t know and I don’t care. I’m just relaxing and having so much fun in my garden.” They smile and want to give me their address so that I can relax and have fun in their yard too, ha.

“But I honestly wouldn’t mind if I had the time. It is very relaxing, fulfilling and very rewarding thing to do after work and on the weekends. Guess what? I have a 3 day weekend coming up. Yaeahhh!….. You know what I’m going to be doing.


Captain Andy




memoris20002 dad6


by Curtis Peter van Gorder

“When you look up into the clouds think about me, “my father told me as we strolled down a wooded path with his arm in mine just after his 85th birthday celebration. We had a family reunion that summer. Our family came from all over the country and the world to honor the man that helped us come to be. This was something that we had never done before.

Though my dad and I hadn’t seen each other much over the last 30 some years, except for an occasional visit, experiences we had shared together, mysteriously became a part of me, even the little things.  As a boy, I used to be enthralled at how he washed his hands – thoroughly and repeatedly.  I wasn’t always so enthralled however, at his idea of a good time – cleaning up the garage on a Saturday afternoon.

Memories are selective and we frame the pleasant experiences while filing away the unsavory ones. In my mind’s gallery I recall what we did together: the afternoons spent playing catch in the backyard, the deep sea fishing trips, the two week canoe voyage down the Allegheny River with our Boy Scout troop, the search and discovery of the perfect Christmas tree to decorate our home, the victorious feeling of getting a kite up into the blue atop a windy hill. These moments are all precious parts of me something I would like my children to know about.

Our life together, especially during my turbulent teen years was not always smooth sailing, but the years have a way of putting things in perspective. I grew up in the turbulent 60’s when established values were questioned and tested against the backdrop of the Vietnam War. At that time, I insisted on wearing long hair as a token defiance to the ‘system’.  My dad and I had a few heated battles about the need to cut my hair, but the last time I visited him, I was nearly bald and he was the one sporting the long locks. How trivial our former confrontations seem now.

Our communication was sometimes strained. I thought he didn’t understand my quest for freedom and purpose in life. Though now in perspective, I realized he understood more than I realized – it’s a shame we didn’t talk about it. He tended to be reticent and keep his thoughts to himself. In hindsight, which they say is always 20-20, I would have taken the time to understand his viewpoint more.

After I had grown up and had a family of my own, I began to understand him during our visits together. As he shared the life changing moments of his time, like when he had escaped being stung to death from a swarm of angry bees by running away and jumping into the nearest river and covering himself with mud,  or a time in WW2 when he missed death by only a few meters when the ammunition ship in front of his was blown up by a torpedo fired from a Japanese submarine. I discovered he wrote poems about what mattered to him. Through them I learned things out about him that I had never realized before. I knew he had sailed in ships, but not how much sailing meant to him until I read his poem.



By Andrew C. Van Gorder


I dream of having a sailboat

Of my very own.

I want to be able

To go on a lake or bay

And set my sails

On a course

That will take me far

I want to feel

The sun on my face

And the wind in my hair.

I want to look up and see

The sky

And taste the spray.

I want to hear the sounds

Of my boat

As it moves through the

I have this dream

That keeps me

Wanting to go on from here

And know the joy and freedom

Of my being.

June 24, 1975


Somehow, after we read this poem, the nickname Captain Andy stuck among my brother and sister as my dad’s nickname. I also found out he volunteered his time as a Coast Guard inspector of recreational boats. There was a world of things I never took the time to learn what really mattered to him.

I asked my dad if he had any advice for his children and grandchildren. His answer was, “Follow your dream.” A quote that hangs on his wall that was dear to him, written in beautiful calligraphy, reflects his philosophy.


If a man does not keep pace with his companions,

Perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.

Let him step to the music which he hears,

However measured or far away. Henry David Thoreau (“Walden,” 1854)


Throughout our years of struggling to do just that, and even sometimes when we were still formulating our goals in life, he worked hard to help us realize our dream whatever it was at that time and it often changed dramatically. When we foundered and got in a bind, he was there to bail us out, like the time I was held at the police office for climbing a tree at a city park and refused to come down. Dad was there for us when we needed him most.

Captain Andy passed away a few months after our family reunion we had in his honor. But somehow he still feels near.

I answered my dad that day when we walked in the woods, “Dad, I don’t need to look at clouds to keep your memory alive, you are right here,”  I said as I touched my heart.

If we take the time to discover our fathers  we will discover a precious part of ourselves. Perhaps, we will better understand our roots and we will form bonds that will stretch out into eternity. The stories  and experiences that our fathers have lived and pass on to us are treasures to pass on to our children – our true family heirlooms.