Kerry Taylor

The maple leaves are beginning to fall on the Hill of Jeary, sillhouetted against the setting evening sun and bright with color upon the dawn of the glorious Fall days. Though no rake is in sight, the leaves are neatly piled in a circle around the tree which releases them.

Once ripe with green apples, bright red pie cherries, and deep purple plums, the orchard trees now stand on fire with their own respective colors down in the field below the maple tree. Tallest poplar and whitest birch trees line either side of the driveway leading up to the small log cabin at the top of the hill. Shaded by the maple tree, an old white-haired man sits on his porch pondering the life he has lived.

The falling leaves have special memories for Kerry Taylor, and as his mind drifts backward to the past, a slow tear of joy runs down his cheek. He is lost in memories.


It was August, and Kerry had just been surprised for his 23rd birthday. On a plane bound for the West Coast, he sat observing the other passengers on the flight. His eyes came to rest on a seat 6 rows up from which he could only glimpse an edge of a magnificent Maple leaf, wrapped carefully in a light cellophane and held gingerly by a very small hand. He was curious who would carry such a thing on a plane and for what purpose, and decided to think of every possible reason this would be done.

Grabbing the nearest free Sky Magazine, he tore the whitest page he could find out and began writing. The other two people in his row casually peeked at his note every so often, wondering what he could be doing, but not daring enough to ask.

Then, realizing he'd written ideas for an hour and that the flight would end soon, he decided to stop dodging and rose from his seat.

"Hello." he said to the girl in row 47. "Wow," he thought, "she has such bright eyes!"
"Hello." she returned. "Who are you?"
"Kerry. And I was admiring your leaf. May I ask its significance?"
"My leaf? Well its a long story, and we will be landing soon."
"Where are you headed at the end of the flight?"
"I have a 4 hour lay-over in Salt Lake City, going on to Seattle."
"Really? Me too - will you meet me at C2 when we arrive? I would love to hear the story."
"Sure. See you there."

Heart thumping for no apparent reason, Kerry moved quickly back to his seat as the captain announced their descent to the runway. Buckling himself in, Kerry readied himself to cancel his connecting flight to LA and book himself into flight 494 to Seattle.

As soon as he exited terminal B16 he went straight up to C2 and fixed his flight info - he would be a standby passenger, and hoped desperately that he would get a seat. He called his business partner in Southern California and postponed his meeting until the next day.
As she walked up to C2 he realized how small she was, like a child holding a leaf nearly as big as she was. But in her face, he could see she was no child.

"Hello again!" he said nervously, trying to hide his shaking hand.
"Hello." she said.
"So what's the story?" he asked.
"Well," she began, "it goes back to 4 years ago when my dad told me I was living life in the fast lane, and should slow down. He seemed to think I would miss too much of life - the small things, you know - if I continued on as I was.

Well, I didn't know how to slow down. It was normality - you know how life is these days, not much time anymore. I am goal-oriented, and I like to move right on to the next one after completing one. So daddy came up with an idea for me slow down a bit. He suggested that I journal my work. All of my goals are lined up in an order to get me to a final goal, and each one is something I have particularly picked out, practical but enjoyable. Some were quick and simple, others were long and study-intensive. He suggested that after I complete a goal, whatever size, that I take a day to go back and remember the time I spent, read the journal, and consider all of my activity - even non-goal related - during the period of time I spent. And then, he said, I should pick out something - like a landmark or symbol - to identify the success, and to make it memorable. I have always been a fan of the largest maple leaves I can find, so I knew immediately that that would be what I would choose."

Fascinated, Kerry listened to her tale, wondering why it would be that she would so quickly open up to him - a man she'd never met. But he continued listening.

"So I journalled along the timeline of each of my adventures, and as he suggested, went back at the end and remembered my journey. At first, all I could think was how silly I felt reading back on something I could clearly remember without reading it. But then I noticed that as I read I could see something missing. It wasn't what I had done that daddy wanted me to see, it was what I had not done. I am always so focused on my projects that I forget everything else around me and become very isolated.

Learning from the first journal, I was careful not to 'fall off the face of the earth' in the following projects. Each time I finished a journal, I put it into my bookshelf and hung the largest maple leaf I could find, wrapped in cellophane, from its binding.

I now have a library of over 77 completed journals and signature leaves hanging from them. Each one marks something I have learned, completely separate of the project itself, and, I have found out, more life-changing. The adventure became not what I would find in reaching my goal, but the things I would learn along the way, stopping to observe and be quiet to listen.

Last month, daddy gave me another idea. He asked how many goals I had left to accomplish - I admitted that I wasn't now sure; I had originally only had 51, and I was now long past that. He wondered if I'd run an experiment with the idea and play it backwards.

Always excited to try something new, I decided to run with it. So I packaged up a signature leaf I found on a small hill just North-East from Seattle and set out for a journey. The idea was to see how carrying this leaf would change my destination - and not just my physical destination. 'Let it build you a new destination' he said.

Honestly, I was getting a little disappointed. I travelled all the way from Seattle to Boulder, to Atlanta, to Chicago to New York on small business ventures. But nothing extraordinary happened, and in fact no one has even commented on my leaf. Now, on a homeward flight, when I had given up on the idea, you show up asking about it - so here we are."

Kerry sat back for a few minutes to take in the story, laughing to himself at how strange things can happen when you least suspect them.

"So you are saying that I have become your next adventure?" he asked.
"Yes." she said quietly, observing him.
"Wonderful. Where shall we begin?" he asked.

"We've already begun."


As the sun fell below the horizon and the hot day cooled into a warm refreshing night, Kerry continued to look out from his porch, now looking out at the stars. His porch swing swayed slightly in the cool breeze coming in off the water in the distance.

How strange, he thought, what the media, movies, and even culture feel are the ideal ways to meet and build a friendship with another. But it can be as simple as Arie's leaf.


On June 12, three years after meeting over Arie's leaf, Kerry Taylor and Arie Kaya were married in front of a small site where Kerry had just built Arie a cabin on a hill. The ceremony took place under the maple tree which had yielded the leaf from which they had first met, and he carried his bright-eyed young bride over the new threshold and closed the door.

As time went on, Arie suddenly noticed that she had begun to forget the adventures she had had before meeting Kerry. But reading through her journals, she also discovered that the life lessons learned along the way she had not forgotten. Her research, studies, knowledge and understanding of the information she had collected served her in its own place as the years went by, but never did it impact her life as she had originally expected it to. Instead she found that the wisdom she had least expected to receive was the most important to her every day life.

In the last few ventures before she had met Kerry, Arie had learned perhaps one of the most important pieces of wisdom for which she could have hoped, though it did not become apparent until sometime after they had met. Though it can be said that Arie was dedicated to everything into which she put herself, willing herself to complete the task even if it became unexpectedly difficult or frustrating, there were a few times when she did not want to continue, but chose to anyway. Looking back at this, she discovered that everything she had encountered thus far, and everything following in later years, was based on a choice.

Not long after meeting, Kerry and Arie had discovered that they were nothing alike. From basic every-day preferences, such as adding salt to the chips at mexican restaurants, to their views on politics, movies, music and culture, they were very different. Only in their faith were they alike, and this was the core of the bond between them. But Arie realized that she had a choice, no matter the differences, to love Kerry; and she realized from the beginning that Kerry had already made the choice to love her. Baffled, watching everything she had heard in her past about marriage and compatibility proving to be false, she made the choice to love Kerry.

Later, at their 37 year wedding anniversary, Aria would reflect that she had made the correct choice, and realize that she hadn't made that choice just once, but every moment of every day until then.

In December, a year and a half after their wedding, Jeary Taylor was born, and a new chapter began for Kerry and Arie. Never had either found such joy in Creation, nor had either found themselves so exhausted. Jeary grew into a tall strong young man, admired by all in the community for his honesty, loyalty and loving nature. Everyone wondered how this young man could be so strong in faith and powerful in spirit and purpose. Though Jeary had moments, just as everyone does, where he found himself in fear, worry, hurt or sadness, he knew that the the wisdom his parents had passed down to him all of his 14 years was the key. Complete faith in a being who is Lord and friend to all of His beloved mankind, and the understanding that all things in life are decided by a choice shaped him into the man he was becoming.

But tragedy struck, and Jeary's life was taken just before his 15th birthday. Kerry and Arie, though blessed to know exactly where Jeary had gone, were devastated at his death.

Spring came again. The trees began to bloom, and the rain again began to feed the legendary green landscape around the hill. Kerry and Arie gave thanks to God for the 14 years they had of Jeary's life, and named their hill "Jeary Hill" in memory of their son. Together, they sat on the new swing bench Kerry had built on the front porch of the small cabin, watching the countryside explode again into color and warmth as Fall began to take its place again.

Remembering, again, her old journals, Arie was struck by an idea and led Kerry into the now leave-strewn yard around the cabin. She began pushing the leaves into small piles surrounding the tree from which they fell. There were 14 piles, and she explained that each pile represented a year of the life of their boy. Then he understood, and wept, for she had explained what he had known but could not express. For just as each leaf on each journal Arie kept represented a completion of a goal, becoming the blessing of wisdom, so did each pile of leaves reflect how much blessing and learning each of them had experienced for the years of Jeary's life. Thus was born a tradition, and in the following years, the Taylors invited neighbors and friends to share in the experience of remembering their blessings, represented by the maple leaves around the tree on Jeary Hill.

Kerry and Arie had been married 38 years when Arie was hit with a sickness the doctors could not diagnose. And, though she survived, finally casting off the sickness, her eyes were never again the same and reflected her health. The brightness had dimmed just enough for Kerry to notice. He knew he would not have her much longer.

Three years later, Arie died while sleeping in Kerry's arms. He held her, knowing he must give her up. Loneliness flooded his heart, and he looked to Jesus for support - he suddenly did not want to go on; he didn't want to live without Arie.

But, once again, he was presented with a choice. And though it was difficult, Kerry knew for certain that he was alive for a purpose. He allowed his heart to be mended and the hole Arie had left filled by the Creator. Though often sad, and still lonely, Kerry enjoyed allowing himself to become lost in memory in his spare moments.

To this day, Kerry continues the tradition of making piles from the maple leaves around the tree on the hill, inviting friends and neighbors to join him in celebration of all God has done for them and given them in their lifetimes.

Now, back from his journeys through time, the tears stream quickly and quietly down his wrinkled cheeks. He leans his head back, sleep overtaking him, and he quietly slips away - sleeping now for the last time, sweet memories of Arie and Jeary the last things to pass through his thoughts. He smiles, and is gone.




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"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."
-Ecc. 3:1-8