The walk in the forest had been uneventful so far. Tim did not know if he should be disappointed or relieved. There had been no mackerels sunning themselves on the river bank, the parrots had already left on their commute to the feeding ground and the wild hogs must have drunk their fill of water before he showed up.
‘This forest is supposed to be full of life, but it seems as if I am the only one here.’
Just then, Tim noticed the trail of ants busily carrying their leaf loads on their shoulders.
“Hmmm,” Tim mused. “Do ants have shoulders?”
“All this foolishness,” he chided himself. “I have an important deal at hand and all I can think about is ants.”
It was supposed to be two of them but his so-called partner chickened out at the last minute. Well, he would show him. He would finalise this deal and keep all the money for himself. “Stupid fool!” It is times like these that separated the men from the boys. He was close to the meeting place now. Through the trees, just up ahead on the trail, he could see the clearing and the young plants. The mature plants were deeper ahead he knew.
Suddenly, he froze. Something was wrong. The hair on the back of his head stood on end. His heart was doing the 100 meters dash at the Olympic finals.
“O God!” the name just rolled meaninglessly off his tongue. The explosion, the flash, the shooting pain and his blood spilling onto the forest floor, all seemed to happen at once. Tim, the ants, dashing centipedes, crawling millipedes, scurrying spiders, strange beetles and some other things he did not know, were one with the brown dirt. The intense pain, the isolation and the fear were all getting to him. He had no desire to die like this, in the forest, bleeding, alone at the edge of a field of illegal herbs.
Well, his mother always said that his way of life would catch up with him. He could see Sister Dora now, his former Sunday School teacher, talking about sin and separation from God. He surely felt separated now. He was remembering the destination of separated persons. He did not want to go there.
His mother was right all along, so was Sister Dora. He was not laughing anymore. Is this how it was all going to end? Consciousness and unconsciousness were taking turns now. He had been the fool of which he had accused others.
A cold, grey blanket started to drape itself on his fallen form. No jokes now, no accusing others of being stupid like the back of a spoon, no more brand name jeans, sneakers and jerseys– just another dead body to move out of the forest, if they found him. He would be just another crime statistic. Life drained slowly out of him.
The funeral was big, with two different sets of mourners- his mother’s friends and his own partners. By that time, his mother had lost 10 lbs. She looked and felt
drained. She kept wondering whether Tim had made it right with the Lord before he died. To have lost her son this way was not entirely unexpected, she had to admit. She screamed her son’s name one final time and sank low onto the brown dirt of the cemetery.
Reflection:
My friend, death comes to us all. It is important that we be read spiritually, that is, that we be ready to meet God. You would know whether the life you are living is pleasing to Him or not. If it is not, what are you waiting on? Death may give us no advance warning.
Say this prayer and make Him the Lord of your life:
Lord, I thank you for loving me, even when I did not love You. I thank you for sending your Son to die for my sins. Forgive me now and I want to live the rest of my life in a way that please you. Amen.
