It will not have the thorns of the gnarly locust I cut up yesterday. Nor will it be wrapped inextricably with thick cords of poison ivy. Greenbrier with its briers will not clutch at my heavenly Carharrts and pine bows will not switch me in the face as I pass (or if they do, there will be no pain with cussing). I will not grunt and sweat under the load of the awkward, heavy load over unsure footing between the forest margin and my golden 4WD chariot.
No hidden rocks and stumps will lurk under the litter of last summer’s foliage. And I will not find even one tick on my pants. The celestial wood will be light as cardboard and will fall apart in perfect stove lengths before it goes into the fire. Er, maybe I’m thinking of the OTHER place with the fire. Never mind.
“Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” –Matthew 6:19,20