Chapter 53 Postscript: two years later

The brilliant winter sun is shining brightly, and New York City is in a festive mood.Henry and I walked around Rockefeller Center, not far from the big Christmas tree between Forty-ninth and Fiftieth streets.He is going to see the famous ice skating rink. He said: I have heard of it all the time, but I have never seen it. It's Monday morning.Henry and I just finished a TV show together for the first time, talking about all the little miracles that have happened since the book came out.The host had a very warm attitude towards Henry, applauding him for coming back from his mistakes and for his courage to change his mistakes, and even hugged him after the video was over.I've never seen him so proud.

We each put our hands in our pockets and walked side by side, full of the quiet contentment that comes from a day full of contentment.Henry was wearing a fur coat and black fur hat, and he was smiling like a big kid coming to town for the first time.This might be a bit odd since his hometown is New York City.But since he was a child, Henry has hardly been to Manhattan, let alone visit the more luxurious areas here.We found the skating rink and leaned on the railing to look down.Below, on the white oval ice rink, a little girl in a leotard circles gracefully, and several older couples hold hands and skate.

Henry said: Let's take pictures. We stood together, his huge body pressed against me.Take a photo.Henry is very happy.He looked at the continuous tall buildings in the city of his birth.Squinting and looking up at the morning sun, he said softly: Wow! It was the last thing I could remember him doing. When I started writing this book, I knew there would be a sacrificial text in it.But I never dreamed that two sacrificial rites would be required to complete this book. As I reread these words, I am sitting in the lobby of Henry's Church in Detroit.It's very quiet here.mid-january.It's only been a month since that happy morning in New York.The snow piled high outside but it was warm inside and I instinctively looked up to see where there was a hole in the roof because there wasn't any.

Here's the thing: a lot of people read this story.They read about the Archmage, Henry, Cass, congregations, bums sleeping on the floor.It was not long before many letters arrived.At first there were only a few letters, but gradually there were more and more letters.Henry used to make me read piles of letters, all piled up on his desk, and he would shake his head in amused disbelief.These letters came from our city and other cities, our state and other states, and later even from other countries.Each letter is different, but in a sense they all say the same thing: I may not have much, but I want to share it with you.Please take this money and get your roof fixed.

Gradually, enough money was collected to complete the work.On a Monday morning in December 2009, a truck was parked next to the church, loaded with tiles.Henry, Cass, the elders of the church, and most of the congregation lined up on the sidewalk.Boxes of tiles are unloaded from the car. The tiles go through this human chain, passed from one hand to the other, and are sent up the stairs to the waiting workers. Ten days later, the roof was like new, the holes patched, and the rain, snow, and wind were driven outside where they belonged.The celebration day was arguably the happiest day in the church's history, and those present at the service included Detroit Mayor David.Binn and well-known female singer Anita.Baker.

That day Henry deliberately wore a short-sleeved top to emphasize his new hard-won warmth, and he cried and sang as he preached.At the end of the service, I climbed up the ladder and tore off a piece of plastic covering where the hole had been.Embedded in the plaster that filled the hole was a large merit plaque, on which were engraved the names of all those who had donated money to make the repair work possible, regardless of distance. Because anyone looking up in a church expects to see something sobering, doesn't it?What could be more thought-provoking than people from all over the world belonging to different faiths, races, and nationalities coming together to help fill a hole?

God.Henry said that day. yes, i replied. It felt like the rest of our lives started that day. I think, in a sense, it does.The problem is you never know how long the rest of your life is. Over the next twelve months, Henry had the opportunity to meet with the Archmage's family, including his wife, children and grandchildren.The archmage's daughter Jila is also a teacher. She and Henry often corresponded. The children in her class wrote letters to Henry, which made him so happy that words could not describe it. Hundreds of new volunteers have arrived from the suburbs to cook and distribute food to the homeless.Sibling Watch will be an oasis of hope and volunteerism.

Henry grasped at his newfound fame as if he had waited his whole life for this moment not to praise himself but to share ideas, to advocate for feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, and uniting churches to work together.He was full of plans.Every time I see him, he has various meeting schedules, another group is coming to serve dinner, and a new pastor or rabbi (yes, rabbi) is coming to visit and exchange ideas.Although travel was hard for his size, Henry still made several trips to California with me to visit churches that had generously donated for various repairs, including the Cathedral of Faith Church in San Jose and Fontana The Water of Life Community Church, Henry in Fontana overlooking the San Gabriel Mountains, with tears in his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

What's wrong?I asked him. I have never seen a real mountain.he said. That year, he saw a lot of things he had never seen before.He sees community leaders asking for his advice.He met Phil.McGraw and Tony.Bennett ① and other people who are completely different from each other.But he still lived in that crowded little house, guarded that poor and too big church, and his missionary work was more determined than before. He was determined to call the public and care about the plight of those around him. He taught me to play a song on the piano, a song he wrote, and sometimes we performed it together, me playing and Henry singing.It was a catchy and infectious song called <What's wrong with your brother? >

∮ What happened to that man, he sat down and thought Why did life lie to him? think of my tiredness he bowed his head and wept Are we going to pretend that his problems don't exist? He reaches out for help Are we going to tell him to go away? what happened to your brotherhe is crying what happened to your brotherDeath is approaching what happened to your brother Henry sings the song so emotionally, sweat dripping from his head, his high-pitched, begging voice sounds full of pathos, demanding an answer.He sings this song for every troubled soul he meets in his life.He sings for himself.

what happened to your brother Then Henry died. When I mention this matter, I still can't help but stop and swallow every time.On that sunny winter day in New York, we took a ride to the airport together. In the car, he said that the trip was very enjoyable and he really hoped to stay for an extra day. Why not?I said. real?he said. He changed the flight.The hotel is also booked.Henry and I hugged each other goodbye at the bus stop, a big bear hug with my head on his shoulder. We will meet again on Thursday night.He said. OK, I said. I'm going to talk to you about Christianity and Judaism.I have some ideas. Okay, I nodded and smiled secretly in my heart.He always said that.I have some ideas. Then he said: Goodbye then. We waved and the car took him away. I flew back to Detroit, and Henry met up with relatives and old friends in Brooklyn that night.I hear it was a pleasant visit, and it must have been a glorious moment, when Henry, who had been humble in those streets, was now a promising clergyman.As his youngest daughter said at his funeral: My father left New York a villain; he came back a superhero. But even superheroes die.Sometime in the early morning, alone in a hotel room, the huge body lay flat and said: Enough.Henry Covington, fifty-three years old, died of a heart attack.The phone went unanswered, a knock on his door went unanswered and emergency personnel broke in. It's too late. In the city of his birth, Henry returns to his final home. So, for the second time in this story, I stand in front of a congregation trying to say goodbye to a missionary, a man I admire.The church was packed, and Henry would have been proud to see that even those in the upper seats upstairs had to turn around to make room for more people. It was not like the Archmage's funeral, which happened so quickly and abruptly that it had a paralyzing effect, like a blow to the head.Sadness makes you dizzy.You blink.You swallow.I finished speaking in a vague dizziness, trying not to let myself cry. □□□ Dear Henry: This is not a sacrificial offering.It was a letter to a friend, read publicly at his funeral.Forgive my weakness, but I'm not ready to accept your life as a thing of the past.In my mind, you are still alive. Having said that, the way you live in this life is to compare the past with the present all the time, isn't it? Henry in the past knew the ugly walls of the prison. Now Henry knew the welcome door of the church. Henry used to drive into the streets just to cause trouble. Now Henry takes to the streets with food piled on his hood. Henry in the past, seeing someone like me, might have said: Enemy. The current Henry saw someone like me, opened his arms and said: friend. Once I asked you why you chose the name Sibling Guardian for your church, and we talked about the story of Cain and Abel ②You asked me to go back and look up the Bible.I noticed something special about that passage.After Cain murdered his brother, God asked him what happened to his brother.Cain's answer has become famous: Am I my brother's defender?But before that, Cain's first answer was: I don't know. I don't know where my siblings are. You could have said that too, Henry.When your situation improved, you could have turned a blind eye to the starvation and despair on the grim city streets, as most of us have.You could have said: I didn't know there was such a thing. But you said: I know.I know what it's like to live in that kind of place.I am the guardian of my siblings and I must act. You gave a better answer than Cain, Henry.So I expected that last week you would come before God and He would ask you: Where are your siblings?You will answer like this.You say: Lord, my siblings are eating the food that our church houses provide; my siblings are sleeping on the gray mats that we spread on the gym floor; my siblings are heating us with every last penny Even cold winter nights are warm; my brothers and sisters have come from all over the world to mend a hole in your sanctuary; now my brothers and sisters are thanking you, Lord, for the gifts you have given us. I expected God to smile, Henry, and say, Well done.You've been told that this place is too big for you, but you're also big, in every way, big, big, big-hearted.Maybe you are not standing in front of us now, but the you we knew before has not changed.We can't see it with our eyes, but we still feel it and believe it.People call it faith, right?Thank you, dear friend, for teaching me the meaning of this word. Glory, glory, Hallelujah, Henry.You have let go of your burden. Break it down next time. mickey ①Phil McGraw is a psychiatrist, known as Dr. Phil, who has become a celebrity because he often appears on TV talk shows to talk about sexual relations and interpersonal relationships. There are two contemporary American celebrities named Tony Bennett, one is an old-fashioned singer who is still singing at the age of eighty-eight, and the other is a well-known coach of a college basketball league. ② See "Old Testament.In Genesis, Cain is the eldest son of Adam and Eve, and Abel is his younger brother.Cain was a farmer and Abel was a shepherd.When offering sacrifices, God favored the lamb and suet offered by Abel, but did not like the agricultural products offered by Cain. Cain killed Abel out of jealousy. I sat in church thinking of Henry, thinking of the Archmage, and rereading those words, and I guess, if you had faith, you'd choose to say goodbye the way Henry always said goodbye, the words engraved on the inside of his coffin next time Break down each story. There were two people who made the world a better place.Now they are all dead.Henry.Covington and Albert.Louis has no chance to meet each other in this life.But I'm sure they'll make up for it, somewhere better, talking and laughing and sharing everything they have in common under God's loving gaze. Let's listen to the next chapter. Amen. Mickey.Albon in Detroit, January 2011 (End of the book)