An "ordinary man" gets and extraordinary gift. A lesson of life, living, and caring.

Part 6


As he finished his bowl of cornflakes the telephone rang. Hesitantly he decided to answer it. It was Red.

“Jack, have you seen the paper?” the voice sounded like a kid talking to Santa Clause. “They say you’re the healer!” There was a pause. Jack tried to think of a response and couldn’t. “Who would believe such a thing?” Red continued, trying to be nonchalant about the whole affair.

“I had some people come ‘round this mornin’,” Jack finally volunteered. “It’s no big thing. We’ve got to get over to the Garbor parcel and take down that pin oak. Are you ready?”

“Well, yeah Jack”, Red said, the wind let out of his sails. “Sure, I’ll be ready when you get here.”

Jack made sure the front and back doors and all of the windows were locked as he headed once again through the steadfast group of followers. They parted like the Red Sea as he strode across the grass heading for the tool shed. Inside he worked silently, knowing that all the while his every move was being watched. Those closest to him extended hopeful hands to touch his shoulder or arm. Every once in a while he would say, “excuse me,” as he carried tools, ropes, and the chainsaw to his truck.

“Please go home,” he said once more as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Several people ran for their cars hoping to follow. The rest could be seen sitting down in the back yard. Jack knew they would be waiting when he returned.

At Red’s place his mother was there to greet him. “You saw the paper, huh, Jack?” Red slipped up and into the cab. He noticed the trail of vehicles that had followed his partner. He had always had a notion that there was something special about this otherwise inconspicuous tree man.

“Pray for me an’ the boys, will you, Mr. Harmond? She reached out and touched the old freckled arm that hung out of the truck’s window. Jack could only smile dumbly.

Aw, Mom,” Red leaned forward to see around him. “Let him alone will ya?”

Thankful for the reprieve, Jack carefully made his way around the house’s front circle drive and headed back out the way he had come in. The two men were silent at they passed through a stretch of road lined with cars on either side that was nearly half a mile long. In his rearview mirror he could see the havoc of the many drivers jockeying to get turned around and on their trail again. One car made a quick maneuver to get in the lead and was hit by an oncoming van. The whole procession stalled and Jack hid a slight smile of relief.

Before Red could begin the old man pulled his cap down tight on his head as if preparing for a deluge. The he turned to his coworker and simply said, “It’s a mistake, son. There’s nothin’ special ‘bout me. We’ve got a hard days work ahead of us and we need to see clear to getting’ it done.”

Red, although disappointed in the downplaying of all of the excitement, knew better than to stir anything else up and sat quietly for the remainder of the trip to Gruber’s lot.

Unfortunately, it did not take long before the convoy behind them caught up and a full-blown parade trailed behind the rattling green pickup. Jack sighed when he saw them in his rearview mirror but said nothing as he drove down to the creek and took the gravel drive off to the left and across the small bridge. As he pulled up the gentle grade to park the truck he watched as his followers again took to the shoulders of the road. And then they came. Red faced and with hopeful looks the many eyed the two workers as they unloaded their gear.

Jack began to get concerned as the crowd once again drew near. “We’ll be cutting a tree down today,” he said, trying to sound as loud and official as he could. “This here property is private. Now I don’t want to see no one get hurt so you all just turn around and go back the way ya came.”

Almost unexpectedly the seekers began talking amongst themselves and as a group they fell back to the edge of the small gurgling brook. Many took advantage of the shade provided by the two surviving willows and sat down to watch and wait.

Now Jack focused on the tree. He knew that Red would have to top it before they could take it down. There was less risk that the strong trunk would splinter as it was felled if he did this. Red was his legs these days. He watched as the boy carefully strapped on the climbing cleats and put on a safety belt to tether him securely once he arrived at the point where he would make the cut. He then threw a long coil of nylon rope over his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Jack busied himself with setting up the ladder at the base of the tree. Once that was done he then got the chainsaw from the back of the truck and placed it on the ground near the base of the tree.

When both were prepared Red began the climb. The ladder took him the first ten feet and then he began pulling himself from one branch to the next, ever moving upward. He felt confident as he climbed and quickly decided not to use the rope to haul himself up into the tree. As he passed the thirty-foot mark he looked down. Jack had his eyes on the boy the whole way.

“You’re doin’ fine boy!” he yelled up. Watch your step. Use the rope if’n ya need to. That’s what it’s there for, ya know.”

Even as he said the words Red’s foot rested on a rather small limb and he heard a faint crackle. Quickly he shifted his weight and moved off of the brittle branch. He looked down and waved, smiling and giving a quick thumbs up signal to show he was alright. He could not help but notice the audience that was now watching the whole affair from the creek’s banks. Carefully he proceeded, moving around the trunk now as he ascended, like a squirrel fearlessly seeking higher ground. It wasn’t long before he reached a point about ten feet below the treetop.

The branch that he now sat on was stout and supported his weight easily. The trunk next to him was just less than a foot in diameter and he carefully turned himself to place his back against it. Now he had to go to work. Although the chainsaw was a light model weighing in at around fifteen pounds he would have to pull it nearly 40 feet up into the tree. Red removed the rope from his shoulder, fastened one end to his belt, threw the remaining coil over a large branch above him, and let the length drop to the ground. When it hit the dirt the old tree master secured the chainsaw to it and waved a signal for him to pull it up.

It seemed to take an eternity to lift the small cutting tool to his perch. Red sweated and grunted as his gloved hands grappled with the nylon rope. The saw seemed to snag on every other branch. The half inch cord was slippery and not easy to hold onto. When it was about halfway up Red stopped. With a good deal of effort he wrapped the chainsaw tethered rope around his right leg to hold it in place while using his freed hands to make a quick half hitch knot, securing the line to itself just above his own perch. This accomplished, the young man was able to let go of the chainsaw for a brief rest.

Red wiped the sweat from his eyes. It was a hot day and he was glad they had gotten an early start instead of having to deal with this in the heat of the afternoon. He told himself that he would have to hurry if he was going to beat the sun to its zenith on this project. He took a deep breath and once again began hauling up the rope, pulling it hand over hand and letting it fall back over the branch on which he was sitting.

Finally the chainsaw was in his hands. Red carefully repositioned himself on the limb, now facing the trunk of the tree. He heard a voice below, “Are you ready?”

“Hold on…” he half mumbled to himself. He looked over at the crowd of people and could not resist the urge to wave and once again give his thumbs up sign. Ready to show off his skills, Red reached around the right side of the trunk holding the chainsaw up and away from him as he pulled the starter chord and it fired to life.

First he would notch the right side and then he would come around to the left to make the final cut. It was a simple job. He had done it several times on smaller trees. He smiled to himself as he cut the small wedge from the right side. The chainsaw did its work, easily chewing its way past the bark and into the core of the tree. Red pulled it away and then shifted to the left.

“Look out below!” he cheerily yelled down to his mate on the ground. Red saw Jack gesturing but couldn’t make out the words over the buzz of the saw. The shiny spinning blades made the top cut first. Then the second cut was made and the treetop wavered for an instant before snapping and falling over, crashing down through the limbs below.

As the treetop fell the unchecked half hitch knot stayed in place. With a sickening feeling Red felt a strange tugging at his belt. Before he realized what was happening the rope snapped taught and the young man’s slender body was wrenched off of the safety of its perch. He plunged to the earth.

Jack could not believe his eyes as he saw the last cut being made to the trunk with the rope secured to the branches above the boy rather than the one he was sitting on, as should have been done. He let out a fierce, “Noooo!” as the boy was plucked from the limb and forced to follow the treetop down to its resting place on the ground beside the twin pin oaks.

On the banks of the stream a woman was screaming hysterically and children were crying. Stooping over the broken body of his young apprentice Jack yelled out, “Someone call 911! Call 911! Damnit call 911!” Using the cloth of his own shirt he wiped the blood from Red’s face and looked deep into the face of the motionless figure. He had nothing to loose and reached into his sock to retrieve the baggie. He didn’t care if anyone were watching now. He pulled it open and smeared his fingers on the inner surface. His fingers were sticky and he knew he had the power to heal. It would just be a matter of touching the boys face. He would see the eyes open, feel the warmth of his breath as he gasped for air and was revived.

It did not happen. The eyes did not open; the heart did not resume its palpitations.

Red was dead. An ambulance arrived about ten minutes later in a wail of sirens. Nearly numb to all that was happening Jack had shoved the baggie back into his pants pocket and wiped his hands on the trunk of the decapitated oak. The ambulance left in silence. The tree man stared after it and angrily wiped both hands on his pant legs and yelled to the crowd, “No more!”

Two days after Red’s funeral Emma Cornell died. Her doctors were especially mystified because she had appeared to be in complete remission. And the man who had been cured of the gunshot wound inflicted by his neighbor gave thanks for his miracle by killing his antagonist three days after that. He would spend the rest of his days in a prison cell for the deed.

Jack had flushed the baggie and its remaining contents down the toilet when he got back home the day of the accident. He couldn’t believe that this mysterious remedy was so useless when he needed it the most. If it were a gift from God why couldn’t it go the next step? Why couldn’t it give life?

The small band of believers continued to camp in his front yard and in vehicles parked by the roadside. Each day, although fewer and fewer of them remained loyal, some still waited for the next miracle.

The tired and broken old man now refused to leave his house. He heard chanting and singing before he went to bed and before he rose on each seemingly endless day. He wished he had a shotgun so he could chase his followers away but knew deep down in his heart that he could never use it.

A week passed, then another. Some of the faithful began to become concerned for the Healer. Finally, at the urging of a longhaired, beaded nomad word was taken to the authorities in Winfield and a sheriff’s car came out to check on the recluse. They found Jack sitting in the kitchen, staring at an empty box of cornflakes. He was taken to the local hospital treated for malnourishment and dehydration and then transferred to a nearby mental health facility for observation and treatment.


Part 7


“I’ve had plenty of time to think here,” Jack said calmly, looking into the eyes of the young doctor who now sat, lost deep in his own thoughts. “There were all those people around me who were tortured of sense and soul. I could have made ‘em all feel better. I could have! Sometimes I wanted to run out and get some of that syrupy sap and slap it on all of them, even the people in here. I could have taken away their pain. I could have changed so many lives, perhaps thousands, maybe millions. Don’t you see it was given to me to do! I was the Miracle Man!” his voice peaked for an instant, then settled.

Jack was trying his best not to confuse the doctor with emotional outbursts but the emotions within him had begun to feel unleashed, unrestricted, bubbling to the surface like never before.

All this time I know’d I couldn’t do it again. I figured healing was never meant to be man’s work. Yeah, you can put on bandages and give everybody pills. You even got vaccines to prevent epidemics, but when it comes right down to it, no one can change the laws of nature. There’s a reason why everything is the way it is. Even the occasional miracle, there’s a reason…”

“Could you show me…” Richard’s face flushed for even having uttered the request out loud. He fell silent.

“There’s more, Doc. That wasn’t all there was to it. No sir, ya see during the second week of the second month that I was sittin’ in here I had me a visitor. It happened late one night. You remember we had another big storm? It rained like cats and dogs that night, and the thunder! It was so strange and wonderful that I was really scared for a while there. But I got back the faith that I’d lost, Doc! I got it all back!” Jack’s voice took on giddiness now that was disquieting to the young doctor. Regardless, he decided to hear the rest of the amazing story without comment.

“There was a bright white light and a presence like nothin’ I ever seen. It came into my room that very night. A soft voice spoke to me. It wasn’t just in my head, neither. It was a soft voice,” he emphasized. “It comforted me for the loss of my good friend Red and assured me that I was not to blame. Then I was taken to a place high above the earth to look down upon her. I felt as if I was sitting in the palm of someone’s hand. I was as alive as I’ve ever felt before in my whole life. Everything was crystal clear. It was as if I was sittin’ at my breakfast table eatin’ a bowl of those great cornflakes. Ya know, God really hit it right when he let folks figure out how to make cornflakes. Best food on earth…” Jack’s voice faded as he drifted to another place.

Dr. Bowman shuffled his feet hoping to center a man who was obviously suffering from some form of dementia. He had to admit, the old-timer had him going for a while. “What a great story,” he thought as he smiled sincerely at Mr. Harmon, wanting to do whatever he could to help the man.

“The voice spoke again,” Jack said in a whisper. “He asked me what I thought about the planet. I wasn’t sure what to say. I thought for a moment, then I answered that it was a marvelous thing to look at with the trees, and lakes, animals and such, and of course the people. And I had to say that only the greatest of creators could have had the time and patience to put it all together like what’s been done. Then the voice asked me what it was like to live without pain. Did it make life better or worse? I had a hard time answering that one. Finally I said, to be a part of it all you can never stop feelin’ things. It comes with the territory, the good and the bad.”

Doctor Bowman cleared his throat uneasily. “And what was said to that?” he asked softly, unsure of his patients current state of mind.

“Well for one thing He said that the time had come to take back the healing spirit from Mrs. Orber’s tree. We don’t want to see her cut down, if you please.” He looked straight into the doctor’s eyes, expecting an acknowledgement.

“And what else were you told?”

“The voice said that if I was to wait here for three months, three weeks, and three days that all would be as it was meant to be. Then I was told to tell you the story, Doc. And there are eleven people; I saw them that night, waiting outside the gate. They need to hear the story too. I was told that they’d take our words around the world!” He grinned shyly, knowing that he had become a part of something much bigger than himself.

Richard Bowman wondered how Mr. Harmond could have known about the exact number of people encamped just out of view of the mental health facility, but kept his thoughts to himself. The story, in fact, was spellbinding.

“Jack continued his intriguing tale, “Life will be life and in death, for those that choose to believe, there will be no sorrow and no pain,” He says to me. “It never hurts to pray for a miracle. And there will be more miracles! People need these signs, now and again; a taste of the honey, so to speak!”

“How about that, Doc? What would you do if’n a miracle was handed to you? Do you recon ‘ol Jack was jus’ chose ta be the one to plant the seed?” Jack winked at his would-be disciple. “I never did ask Him why he picked me. I don’t recon I even thought to ask…”

Dr. Bowman looked down at the floor to avoid the searching eyes of the obviously mentally disturbed old man. Then he swiveled around on his stool to face the small table. On a note pad laying there he quickly wrote, “Check Orber tree for foreign residue”, and then underlined the words and flipped it over.

The physician visually scanned his patient from head to toe once more, trying his best to determine what Jack Harmon might need to get his life back on track. The old man sat calmly in his chair, smiling now. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world. He had the look of a child.

“Mr. Harmond, have you thought any more about the nursing home I mentioned last month?”

In that same instant an intense explosion of light engulfed the examination room. It completely blinded the doctor who instinctively threw up his hands as a shield to his eyes. When the light was gone so was Jack Harmond.

In the valley just outside the gates of the small institution eleven people had their eyes on the sky. They had been waiting there, patiently, expectantly for the past six months. First one, then the others had seen the bright ball, four, maybe five feet in diameter shining brightly, even in the light of a noonday sun. It came out of the east, passed directly over them and then stopped above the infirmary. As they watched, pointing and shouting, “Look, it’s over there now!” it suddenly dropped, disappearing into the roof of the main building of the complex. In an instant it reappeared, hovered for a moment and then returned the way it had come.

Dr. Richard Bowman methodically checked himself over, thinking that the blinding light had been the incredible arc of a shorted out light fixture or even a bolt of lightening, while at the same time feeling a peacefulness wash over him like nothing he had ever known before. The old man was gone. On somewhat shaky legs he stood and opened the examination room door, scanning the empty hallway. His patient was nowhere to be seen.

His right hand dug nervously into the pocket of his lab coat. In a moment of clarity he pulled out the small cell phone that had been secluded there. Scanning the speed dial contacts he paused only briefly at the Sherriff’s Office number before cursering back up to Ann Meyer’s cell phone listing.

Ann answered after the second ring, “Richard, is that you?”

“Annie, you won’t believe what just happened!” Dr. Bowman cleared his throat. He was finding it extremely difficult to communicate. He felt tears welling in his eyes. All he could say was, “Annie, I love you. I’ve wasted so many years, thinking only about what was bad about this world, this life. Now everything has changed! There really are miracles, Ann! All we need to do is open our eyes to them. Annie, I know you love me. Love can be a miracle too! What a fool I’ve been, all these years.”

“The small receiver fell silent for a moment. “Richard, are you ok? Is everything alright?”

There was a tone of apprehension in her voice and Richard spoke quickly to reassure her, “I love you, Ann. Can I pick you up after work? Something wonderful has happened and I want to tell you all about it.”

When the conversation ended, Dr. Bowman glanced down at the small desk. The overturned note centered on the smooth, white surface. He grabbed it and stuffed it hastily into his jacket pocket. It took him a few more minutes to compose himself before he walked into the director’s office and reported the disappearance of Jack Harmond. Dutifully, he described the flash of light and the mysterious exit of the crusty old tree doctor. An announcement went out over the PA system and a facility-wide search began.

Richard Bowman knew in his heart what he was going to do next. Amidst the bustle of the search he exited the building. Orderlies were calling out Jack’s name as he walked slowly down the driveway and out of the arched entrance to where the small group of followers stood waiting.

The young bearded man approached Dr. Bowman as he drew closer.

“What news do you bring?” he asked softly, his companions closing in around the two men anxiously.

Richard did not hesitate, “There is a story that must be told,” he began. “We, with Jack’s blessing, are charged with sharing this news, this truth, with everyone we meet,” he smiled as they waited for his next words; all eyes wide-open in anticipation. “It is a story of Miracles.”