Sonnet | Nature| Spirituality

Whittled Crosses

GiaB prompt #2–19: wood

His mates nicknamed him Hobbsy the Hobbit because of his diminutive stature, his friendly manner — a life-long habit – and his undying love of Ma Nature

He roamed the forest trails not far from home A eucalyptus high made him feel good Beside the mountain ash he was a gnome who hugged their trunks and thanked them for their wood

Dear Hobbsy was a man who loved the Lord A humble servant who respected trees For each tree is known by what it has borne* so Hobbsy worked the wood to make God pleased.

He whittled crosses from trees’ fallen limbs People in church clutched them when they sang hymns.

© Carolyn Hastings 2022

Thank you for reading my sonnet. It’s one that is close to my heart because I knew Hobbsy (his real name is John). John was a long-time friend of my parents from church.

I’ve written this piece in response to Victor Sarkin ’s latest Genius in a Bottle writing prompt: wood.

Victor shared a story about his dad so I thought I would take this opportunity to tell you a little about mine. I hope you don’t mind.

My Dad and Hobbsy’s Cross

My Dad would have been 100 years old last Saturday (May 14). He died 10 years ago, two days after his and Mum’s 62nd wedding anniversary.

Dad wasn’t a woodworker like his friend, John aka Hobbsy, but he appreciated wood. And he appreciated what Hobbsy did with wood. More than that, he appreciated the sacred connection that Hobbsy’s wooden crosses had with God.

Hobbsy gifted Dad with one of his simple, lovingly crafted wooden crosses. Dad took his cross with him to every hospital admission he had in his final years. He slept with his cross under his pillow and fingered its smooth contoured lines, as one would rosary beads, when he was gripped by anxiety and fear of the unknown. His little wooden cross brought him comfort when no one else could. It brought him closer to God. He took it with him when we laid his earthly body to rest — not that he needed it but we knew, and he knew, it was part of him.

No one knows how many crosses Hobbsy whittled but it was a lot. He died a few years ago just shy of his 100th birthday. He’d prayed to God telling Him that he wanted to depart his earthly body before he reached his centenary. God listened and rewarded His humble servant with his final wish.

The cross in the header image is my mother’s. It too was whittled by John.

Thank you, Victor and the editorial team, at Genius in a Bottle for accepting this piece into your publication. 🙏 💕

For those interested in reading Victor’s wood-inspired tribute to his dad and the details for the prompt, you’ll find it all here —

I’d love to hear from — Steve Fendt | Jim Dutton | Dr. Fatima Imam | John K Adams | Kimberly Hampton Nilsson — if you have, tap-on-wood, time and inclination to respond to the prompt. 🙏 ✨

Thank you all for reading. 🙏 💕

* The line, ‘for each tree is known by what it has borne’, is my rewording of —

for every tree is known by its own fruit. Luke 6: 44

✨ If you like what you’ve read and would like more —

👉 Subscribe to my email list and be the first to receive my latest Medium stories directly to your inbox. 📩 👉 Use my affiliate referral link to become a Medium member for $5 per month and have unlimited access to every Medium story including mine. ✨