One time, a long time ago, there was this fisherman. I picture him to be a big burly fellow with longish hair and a rough beard, rough skin from being in the sun all the time, and one of the strongest guys around. I picture him being the kind of guy other guys looked up to and feared a little. I think he'd made some poor choices in his life, and he was looking for something better, but until then, he was fishing. When the wife nagged, he'd fish. When he had something on his mind, he'd take the boat out and fish. I bet he had huge hands. He lived his life, until Jesus came along and changed it for him.
His life was drastically changed. He still fished. As Pope, and Rock upon whom Jesus built his church.
I met another Peter. He likes to fish. He loves living in a place with mountains and trails. He looks just like the Peter I imagined from the Bible, except more yellow. (It's part of his disease.) He knows all the beautiful places, and has visited them frequently. He talks slowly, and has huge hands and feet. He's made some poor choices in his life, but they were his to make, and his apologies are between him and his maker. I had never met him before coming to Wyoming, but I came to see him. I came to help bury him, as he will soon be dead. This is not news to him, his doctors have already told him this, and most of the time he remembers, but once in a while he gets confused. It's part of his illness.
We went to his house today so he could decide what to do with his belongings. He gave me some sweatshirts, and told us what to do with the rest of his things. It took him a long time to say goodbye to his home. He's not coming back to this house. I packed his stuff, while his sister took him back to hospice.
You learn a lot about a guy by packing up his worldly possessions. He had been a carpenter. He liked working on construction sites and building things. He loved nature, and owned several pair of binoculars. (Which he took some good-natured ribbing for.) He's not going to be Pope. He's not going fishing again, he's just going to hospice, where he'll stop taking his medicine and get very confused, then one night he'll fall asleep, and be gone.
I hope he gets to meet Jesus and it's a happy meeting. I think they have plenty to talk about. Jesus helped MAKE Casper Mountain. (Pete's sister and I drove to the top, it was amazing!) Jesus was also a carpenter and loved building things. I've only known Pete for a few days, but I wish him well. I made him laugh, twice, which was one of my goals. We've packed his things, and now it's time for him to go. It's also time for us to come home, and let him die. In Wyoming, where he loves to be, surrounded by beautiful mountains, and a light snow in the morning and short sleeves in the afternoon. God's Blessings, Pete. Happy trails.
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