(C) William J. Gorgus
When I was a young boy, twelve years old to be exact, I had my first encounter with God, and this is how it went.
It was early winter in Philadelphia and school had just let out for the weekend. It was beginning to snow and that’s a delight to every child. As I walked home the snow was beginning to gather, it seemed as though it might be a decent snow.
When night fell I went out to listen to the snow, it’s always so quiet then. The air has a certain freshness to it, and the breeze is crisp. I had a burning desire to go camping. I knew where there was a group of Giant Hemlock Trees in a park about ten miles from here, not too far to walk on such as nice night. I packed a few things and set out. Because I often spent the nights at my Grandmother’s house my mother wouldn’t miss me. My Grandmother would think that I was at home with my mother and dad, and because they weren’t on speaking terms most of the time there was no doubt that neither would miss me.
So off I went. I had to wait for the last commuter train to pass before I could hike the track safely. Before I got to the tracks the train had passed so I ventured up the long dark road. The snow was getting deep now, which was even more exciting. I kept listening to the crunch, crunch in the snow as I walked along, and before I knew it I was there.
A park ranger lived there and the park was closed at sundown. I had to go the long way around as to not leave tracks for the range to spot, should he venture out on a night like this. I came upon my favorite tree from, the back this time, and I looked at her draped in a blanket of snow causing her boughs to dip to the ground. I knew that behind this blanket of snow was a soft, dry bed of small flat needles and gentle warmth.
I pushed a part a bough to enter, as clods of snow fell on my head. It was warm inside as I had expected and quiet, oh...so quiet. I took my light and found a spot at the base of the tree and pulled some more needles together to form a bed, took out my sleeping bag, unzipped it then removing my shoes I climbed in. I sat up against the tree just to enjoy all of this when I noticed a light. At first I thought it was outside the canopy of the tree. It looked like candlelight, but that would not be possible as you would have to shield the flame to keep it in the breeze out there, and I wouldn’t have been able to see it. I kept watching, and then I realized that the flame wasn’t outside, it was right here under the tree with me. It was dark in here and I knew that someone had to be holding that candle, I was afraid to turn on my flashlight. The flame was getting closer and becoming much larger. I was becoming concerned, as this was a pine tree, and no place to have a fire. The flame was getting closer and by now it was the size of a soccer ball. I could see flames rolling about in this ball but for some reason I wasn’t afraid now. I could see clearly that there was no one holding this light it was just there all by itself. It began to talk to me, in a voice that was soft and gentle. For the life of me I can’t remember what it said, I just remember how I felt, and that I can’t put into words; it was just a feeling, down deep inside, I just knew that it was wonderful.
The ball stayed with me for some time and I was getting sleepy. It pulled back and became small again and soon either my eyes closed or the light went out, I don’t know which.
I awoke at first morning light. I sat up and I began to cry, I couldn’t understand this, because I felt happy yet I was crying. Soon this passed and I spent the rest of the day watching ducks in the stream beside the hemlock tree, and deer looking for grass under the snow out in the meadow. Nothing could have been any closer to paradise than that. Came afternoon, I hiked the railroad tracks back home and as I had surmised, no one missed me.
Now we talk about creating our lives, well I think I did, at least in this instance. You see we didn’t get a lot of snow where I lived, maybe only once or twice a winter, but I wanted it to snow, like nothing else I ever wanted, and it did. I recall sitting in the classroom looking at the darkening sky saying to myself, snow, SNOW, and as I left the schoolhouse door the first flakes hit my cheek. I jumped for joy, for again on Friday afternoon it was snowing, and the last snow hadn’t completely gone.
I ran home hoping it would continue, and it did, it was snowing harder and harder. I couldn’t wait for darkness to fall. We finished supper, and I helped with the dishes and went off up the tracks as fast as I could. It was snowing much harder than it did last week. Soon I was standing before my tree. I looked up at her as if to ask if I could enter and she said yes.
My bed was still there from last week. I fluffed it a little, unrolled my sleeping bag, jumped in and sat there staring off into the darkness thinking; OK I’m ready now. In just a little while the flame was there and just like last week it came to me and spoke.
This went on for six weekends, surely if all of those working people knew that I was the one causing it to snow so much they might have been rather upset with me, especially my Father who didn’t seem to like snow.
The experience changed some as the weeks went on, at one time the flame reached out and caressed my face and my arms, ever so gently, and although it was a flame there was no heat. I do recall talking back to the fire and it answered me, it was so kind, and I loved that fire. One time the fire was there even before I got there, for as I pushed the boughs back, there it was, just a candle size, but it was there.
After the six weeks it didn’t snow any more that winter. When spring came my parents moved to a house too far for me to be able to get to my tree. I longed to go back, but I couldn’t.
Fifty years went by, I now had four children and six grandchildren and had traveled a good bit of the world, but I still longed for my tree. I was invited to speak at a college a hundred miles or so form there, so I took my wife, Renee, who had heard the story of the Hemlock Tree and after the official stuff was over we went to the little park where the tree was. I had told my wife that there was this footbridge across a stream and off to the left would be the tree, my tree. Sure enough the bridge was just as I had described it and there to the left was, nothing. My wife was in a wheel chair and couldn’t get through the gravel to the footbridge, and so she pushed me and said, “Go on, I’ll wait here..” I went slowly across the bridge, as I approached the spot I could see all that remained was part of a rotted stump. You can’t imagine my feelings at that moment; sadness would really not express it. I nearly crawled to the stump. There were no needles there anymore, no soft comforting bed, it was eroded away leaving just mud, gravel and a little bit of stump. I never cried so hard in all my life as I did then. Not only was my tree gone but so was my God, my eternal flame. I was now totally alone.
An hour went by, I pulled myself together and went back to my waiting wife who had been talking to the new Park Ranger, and he had explained to her that a most unusual thing happened, an electrical storm killed all of the Hemlock Trees in this Park in just one night. As it turned out it had been the next winter after my last visit. As I approached my wife could see that I had been crying and so she said nothing. We went quietly back to the van, I loaded the wheelchair on and we made ready to go. As I started up the road tears blinded me to the point that I had to stop and wait another half hour. We then rode in silence until I found a motel and a place to eat. It was a sad ending to a wonderful story and to a most wonderful experience.
As I look back over my life I see that this was just one in a long list of wonderful experiences. I have come to feel that God isn’t out there, he’s inside, and he really never left me at all.
Bill Gorgus
Added insight 7/16/09: Just five years ago I learned that it wasn’t God I had been having contact with, but an alien civilization that had come here from another dimension. And as strange as it may sound I am one of them, here to satisfy their needs to protect the human race.
In terms of abduction; I have been abducted well over a hundred times. I have spoken, live, with my guardian / director many times.
I am 73 years old and have witnessed live Aliens, grays, from the fifth dimension, in captivity by the US Government when I worked for them. I also photographed many crashed UfO’s at Wright/Patt back in 1958-1962.
(A true story)
