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gave to his congregation and to many strangers on the street. We join now, although with heavy hearts at the loss we suffer, in joy of our brother’s journey home, where he will forever worship you with the saints. Amen.”
    Militine raised her head as Reverend Swanson began sharing a comical story of when he and Pastor Klingle first met. How strange it seemed that such happiness should be shared on such a dismal occasion.
    â€œJefferson was not much for the cold damp of our climate. He preferred the sunny Georgia coastal land of his youth. But God called him to Seattle, and Jefferson boldly answered the call. So picture if you would the first day of May with a light drizzle falling on our fair city. But for Seattle it was otherwise a beautiful spring day. I was walking down the street heading to a meeting when Jefferson came bursting out of his hotel. He was wearing a heavy raincoat, a winter coat, and a suit coat, and I believe he might also have had on a sweater. I thought I had been attacked by some wild animal. The collision was such that it knocked us both to the ground, whereupon Jefferson promptly landed in a huge puddle of water.” Many in the congregation snickered.
    â€œI righted myself and extended my hand to Jefferson to help him up. He looked up at me with the most forlorn expressionand, before accepting my help, asked, ‘Is there nothing warm and dry to be had in this town?’ We became instant friends in that moment. I shall always remember him fondly, often huddled by the fire on days I thought quite hot.” The man paused and held open his arms. “I think it would be most fitting if others would share their stories. Just stand up and tell us what Pastor Klingle meant to you or what he might have helped you through.”
    Without delay several men rose to their feet. “I’ll tell you what,” one began, “Pastor Klingle helped me forgive my brother after he did me wrong. My brother didn’t even care that he’d robbed me blind. He took everything I had coming to me from our pa and never once asked forgiveness. There was a powerful anger in me, and it was tearin’ apart my insides. I was sick both from the rage and from the bottle I used to ease my misery. Pastor Klingle came to tend me when I was in the worst of it. He prayed with me and spoke to me from the Bible. He even told me of times when anger had got the best of him. He told me he had learned a hard lesson about forgiveness and that a man needs to forgive more for his own sake than for the sake of the other feller.
    â€œI thought a long time on that. After I sobered up, I took Pastor up on his offer to come to church. That Sunday he just happened to preach on Jacob and Esau and told how Jacob stole Esau’s birthright and all the trouble it caused. Made me realize my brother and me were just like that.” He gave a sheepish smile as he glanced around the sanctuary. “I tell you, I had to sit tight until I heard how that all turned out.”
    Abrianna giggled, as did most everyone else. The man was so intense in his telling that Militine, too, longed to know how the story resolved.
    â€œWell, in the end old Jacob had a lot of troubles. My brother, too. Jacob even knew that at one point Esau was plannin’ tokill him. God knows I wanted to get revenge on my brother. Anyhow, Pastor Klingle told how God used even the deceptions and evil dealings of one brother to turn things around where it benefited them both. I can’t say that’s how it happened for me and mine, but I remember Pastor told of the liberty that came for both brothers in forgiveness and how they could lay the past to rest. I wanted that as much as I thought I wanted another drink. So I got down on my knees and prayed that day. It made all the difference, and Pastor Klingle was the one who brought me to where I could see that my own hatred was what kept me all bound up.”
    Ahead of her in the next pew,