The snowfall was sparse but the flakes were the kind
That clung to both their beards.
The brothers took turns in the wood just behind
The home where they were reared.
“The story Dad told us each year,” Aron paused,
“Do you believe it still?”
Their saw exchanged hands before Caleb confessed,
“Not sure I ever will.
The kingdom Dad claimed was already at hand—
It’s too late to be true.
The lamb with the lioness still does not lie
And kings of countries do.
He always meant well and his faith I respect—
I know he was sincere—
But if the tale truly brought peace to the earth,
Then Dad would still be here.”

Now Aron with grief fixed his eyes on the pine,
The scent became his calm:
“Then why are you here this year? What’s in a tree?”
“I’m doing this for Mom.”
With Caleb’s last saw-stroke, the evergreen snapped
And landed with a thump.
Their sorrow was thick as they bound up the limbs,
Then Aron took the stump,
“It’s backward the story, but don’t you recall,
Redemption salts the plan.
To bring it to earth, Jesus first paid to bring
The kingdom into man.
In suff’ring we wait, but with hope we now see
Our pain is not our own.”
Then back to the homestead, they shouldered the tree
That can’t be borne alone.

© Tanner Rinke 2019