In early October the sun rises above the Hoxie Elementary School, and rays of morning light pierce the golden
leaves in the trees surrounding the church.  The old church building turns to honey -- translucent, bright and warm.

One October my Uncle Del and Aunt Dana drove from Wichita to northwestern Kansas to lead a fall conference at
our church in Hoxie.  This was years ago in a different world.  It was decades before my uncle left the ministry and
way before my uncle and aunt separated.  It was back in the halcyon days when Uncle Del's prayers began with
"Our dearest heavenly Father, we bow our heads before thee" and when my aunt sang "How Great Thou Art."

Uncle Del was a funny, playful youth pastor in Wichita, and Aunt Dana was an angel.  Her hair matched the leaves
and the bricks.  I liked it when they came to Hoxie.

They led the entire church service on that crisp, cool Sunday in October.  Our family arrived early.  My two
brothers, my two sisters and I piled out of our 1954 shiny black Ford sedan and flew towards the church
building.

Look at us little Follis birds flying toward the building.  We're fluttering, soaring above the ground.  A metal railing
on each side of the stairs leads the worshipers up eight 20-foot wide concrete steps.  The Follis kids glide above
the stairs, chirping all the way into the building.

Entering through heavy wooden doors, we turn left, fly down the stairs and dart into a large meeting room with a
brown-tiled floor laid out in 12-inch squares.  Folding wood chairs in straight rows stand at attention facing south.

Suddenly I stop in my tracks.

There is beautiful Aunt Dana, facing north.  She greets us and then all the elementary-age children.  "Welcome to
God's house, everyone," she says.  Her blonde hair in tight ringlets springs up and down on top of her head.  Her
smooth face, straight white teeth and magnificent voice cause the little northwestern Kansas birds to bounce up and
down on the wooden chairs.

"Everyone on your feet," she shouts.  "Up. Up. Up.  Okay, let's sing together: 'It's bubbling.  It's bubbling.  It's
bubbling in my soul.  I'm singing, and shouting, since Jesus made me whole.  Folks can't understand it, nor can I tell
you why.  It's bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling day and night.'"

There I am, singing, following Aunt Dana's instructions perfectly.  I am belting out the bubbling song, singing with
unbridled gusto.   Do you see me there on the second row?   I am that little bird with bright red hair.  That's me with
the flattop, the ironed white shirt, the red bow tie and the freshly polished, shining black shoes.

Forty years ago a presence invaded that crisp October day in northwestern Kansas.  I like to think that glow even
made my hard-working father relax, uncross his arms, and pray this simple prayer: "Thank you."

I know that for a brief moment the future invaded the present.  In a yellow-brick church building surrounded by
trees with glowing golden leaves, God pursued a trusting redheaded boy with freckles in a bow tie singing at the top
of his lungs.  I even knew it then.  I wouldn't have described it like this then, but I knew it still.

I like to think God was saying that day, "Son, someday, in another world, my kingdom will feel a lot like it feels on
this golden day."

Aunt Dana looked out at a room full of farm kids and said, "Boys and girls, you know that when you have Jesus in
your heart, your soul just bubbles."

Jesus said about children, "Anyone who doesn't have their kind of faith will never get into the Kingdom of God.
(Mark 10:45)"

I really believed Aunt Dana.  Just like I believe, deep down, that easygoing boy from Northwestern Kansas still
exists.  Oh yes, there are still days when that little redheaded boy uncrosses his arms, lifts his head and prays
unabashedly, "Your kingdom come."

And he still feels God say, "Son, more is coming. Someday soon, more is coming."
 

 Don Follis is an Urbana minister.  Reprinted with permission from the
Champaign-Urbana News-Gazette, copyright 2002.