Heritage calls

Son on opening day bagged buck and doe

Growing up a country kid in the north means hunting and fishing is  common. A proud heritage is passed on from grandfather to father, father to son and in my case you can throw in mother and father and daughter too. Because heading to the woods on opening day is not just for the men and the boys anymore in our family. We changed that a bit.

I have vivid memories of hanging back wondering about hunting but knowing it was not something open to me. Now though, it is and I love it!!

Being there early on opening morning as the sun begins to filter in through the tree tops in my Daddy’s woods holding his 16 gauge double barrel shotgun across my knees. I sat back to back with my hubby and watched and listened in fascination. My thought drifted back to my grandfather who shook his head sadly and said to the little girl that was me then,”I went hunting until one day. I looked at that deer and I just couldn’t shoot it. So I walked away and and I never went again.” Then they jumped to my Dad beaming with his pockets full of squirrels he had harvested on this same 20 acres where I sat back to back with my hubby. Again my thoughts moved to my surroundings and I watched the squirrels run along a beech limb high above my head and step off onto a neighboring branch tip with no hesitation. Impossible!! I thought as I watched. The branch was too small at the end and the next one too was too small to support the squirrel. But it was on and swooping along being chased by another squirrel with not a mistep or flaw in the pursuit of merriment or meal. I couldn’t tell what was being pursued.

Breath came in my lungs and out my mouth and I talked and listened to God as we whispered back and forth about getting meat for our table and horns for my young son’s trophy corner too. Was it too much to ask for? Well I was asking regardless. Bang! I heard it close enough to be pretty certain it was from his gun in the tree- stand nearby. Then silence. I talked on to God about my reasonings and thankfulness and requests…… A crack farther away. Then  hubby began to talk to me about his imaginings in a hoarse male whisper,”he’s gotten down from the tree stand and he stalked the deer. That was why the shot was farther off….” I whispered back,”Naw, I don’t think so and laughed quietly.”

Chicadee dee dee dee dee chirruped an acrobatic bird nearby. I smiled at his naming himself and didn’t give in to the urge to call back. If it weren’t opening day in my Daddy’s woods with his gun in my lap I would have. And I smiled again.  The shapes of the trees took my attention and I considered the twists and turns of the beeches and the knobs of disease in one small maple or beech, squinting to consider which it is. The Hemlocks soared above and darkened the woods a little ways off. My favorite pine!!! The silly feathery branches I love so . The logger had said they were wind whipped? No shocked? The lumber is no good. But the squirrels don’t mind.

Daddy didn’t hunt deer either. He said,”I’ll be damned if I could shoot one of those gorgeous creatures.” but he would jump at the chance to eat venison especially after I married a hunter and learned how, as he would say,” by hook and by crook,” to cook it into tasty meals.

My thoughts turned to rearing the six offspring and the goal I had of teaching them to raise and butcher and process chickens, ducks, turkeys sometimes pigs and fish and scale, and clean out the fish and hunt for wild mushrooms and raise a garden, can and freeze and dry and make jelly. Leading to fall when it was time to hunt with their Dad carrying his bow with a small child along who would be tucked into place nearby as he hunted. Then to deer season with a gun and more tagging along with Dad until the little child got big enough to carry his own gun and the girls voted to stay out of the woods. The goal was to learn that,” Yes! It is sad to have the animal and even the plant or weeds you have to pull out of your way when you garden, die so you can live. Nobody likes that or should like that and of course, that’s why I, Mama, have a frown and a headache on butchering day. But we thank God for the animal and plant life given for us. Even when we make maple syrup we thank Him for the tree giving up part of it’s sap for us.”

Gratitude is an important quality. Humility too is bred this way. Gathering, hunting, farming give more than they take from you in this way. It’s a hard life but a good life. ….. Cutting your own firewood from this very woods and now…. Bang! close by. Could it be??

We sat and waited and watched the woods. The wind swirled around us. Hail and sleet, rain and snow fell and melted. Hubby whispered, “I can’t see waiting till 10:30.” and then, “I’m not sure I can wait till 10.”  I smiled and answered. “Well lets go then and see what’s what.”

Walking out of the blind. He didn’t quite run to the tree stand. He whistled and our son came skittering out of the tree and ran to the buck on the ground smiling and telling his story of praying as he aimed the gun and asking God to give him this deer if God wanted him to have it. Then turning to see the other one, almost immediately, on the other side of the stand. A doe who was big and alone. Aiming again and asking God to give him this deer if He wanted him to have it. Thanking God when the gun would not fire on a third deer knowing that two were enough.

Wow!!! He learned a lesson and used the wisdom. He knew that the woods and the animals in it don’t really belong to us at all. Humility, patience, knowledge and relationship. And I said,”I’m proud of you. You know your grandfather would be proud of you. Both your grandfathers would have been. ” What a great day. I really want to get a picture of this. Let’s go get the trailer and then we can take a picture. God is generous with us today!!”

And his Papa directed him through dressing the deer out right there in the woods. Approving of the clean shot into the heart and noting these animals died right away and didn’t suffer much.” This is a lot of meat and I am really proud of you!” to the beaming son straining to start the process of butchering out his game.

Son and Papa on opening day when son bagged a buck and doe.

 

A Gift that Meets Our Need Is The Very Best

  “Oh. It’s only clothes. “I had an idea when I was younger that all Christmas presents should be something you don’t need. I think others helped me in forming this idea.

Gradually my idea of the perfect present has changed.

Others helped me change my ideal.

It occurred to me last week that Jesus was the perfect present and that this gift is totally the point of Christmas. The sum of the gift is to meet our need.

My little new granddaughter who was neglected by being given all the extras and few of the needs is a great illustration of how much filling our needs is something to be desired and celebrated. She was unable to discuss with  us or walk with us or play and romp like a Kindergarten age child should be able to. She even had some difficulty swallowing and chewing because she had been fed junk food so much that she didn’t have to chew, allowed to grab it off a plate when and if she decided to as she watched video after video after video.

It’s the new American way to warp children. Demand nothing of them. Simply plop them in front of a video with junk food and ignore them. The make no mess method of child-rearing.

But she changed as her life changed when she began to live with her father  and his new wife last summer and was given good wholesome food,exercise and responsibility and was listened to and talked to and taught how to use a toilet. Then how to turn pages of a book and how to drink out of a cup and how to have a conversation, tell a joke, sing a song, pray a prayer. Her legs and arms got stronger and she learned how to help make a meal and how to dress herself and choose her own clothes.

She has changed a lot because the kind of love she was given was the kind that helped her see how much she can do. She has changed because her needs were met ahead of her wants. Her desires changed because what was given her was good.

I think of that this Christmas.

and

I am convinced that the best presents fill needs not our wants.
Jesus is the Christmas gift of what we need. First God meets our needs then with our need met we can rejoice over butterflies and flowers and rainbows.  But what good is the extra stuff without our basic needs being met. If we die in our sin. What good is a candy bar anyway?

Summer Calls and Kids Help It

  Summer is at midpoint and I notice myself and people around me alternating between a panic and plodding moes. We like a collective ant colony movealong the path of seasonal tasks and pleasure. Produce and blossoms come in waves and I pick and pack away. The waves and the summer sun beckon and I abandon the tasks and take to the waves to laugh and remember good times past with a tinge of sadness over those that are past.

  I think life is particularly a mixed bag in the summer in the north because it is  short and because so many new faces appear who come north to vacation. It makes the rest of us want to kick up our heels and forget the laundry piles and the striving after greenbacks and join the party. But at the same time we have lived through enough winters ( actually one is enough) to know better. So most of the time we restrain ourselves and plod through the should haves only occasionally packing up the kids and taking to the shore.

  I noticed the last time I spent the afternoon at the beach that everybody had a child with them. Children it seems give us the needed excuse to enjoy ourselves! Hooray for kids for having the ability to influence us all in enjoyable pasttimes and pulling us out of our entrenchments!!

  Speaking of kids being a good influence on us …one of the small things that persists from the days when my house was filled with kids is a habit of collecting caterpillars and raising them till one day we begin to release mature butterflies! Such a simple pleasure raises my sprits and reminds me of God’s might and imagination as I watch the changes and the beauty unfold on my window sill. 

Guilty till Proven Innocent Beyond the Shadow of a Doubt

  In the life of a young couple I know the traditional idea of American law has been turned on it’s head. Not innocent until proven guilty beyond a shadow of doubt but the reverse has been the treatment they have received.

  It is horrifying to sit in court and hear the evaluation of them has revealed nothing nothing nothing to be alarmed about and yet as a result of a medical crisis with their newborn they have had both of their children taken away. They have been accused of abuse and social services has refused to back down.

  As this case has progressed and the word of what this young family has been enduring has spread through the community there has been a groundswell of support for them. More is needed though and my conviction is that cases like these should not be handled this way.

  The children are now being returned to their home to live with their mother but the Father is ordered to live with his parents with limited,supervised visits with his children.  Which means there is no time for this couple to be with each other!!! except Sundays when

  the judge against the insistence of Social services to the contrary yesterday gave this young family the day together if volunteers would be screened and approved by Social Services and then be scheduled to supervise time together!! Many vounteered including me but why does this tax supported arm of government have this kind of power in a situation whre no evidence backs their accusation!?? 

Father,Daddy,Papa,Dad,Pop Whatever You Call Him Treat Him

  Father’s Day approaches and men and women the world over are wondering what to do about it?

  Men don’t know what they want.

  Women respond by trying to give them what they want them to want or what they think they might want.

  Why don’t we just ask them what would be fun for them and leave it at that?

  Probably too easy. They might be so shocked they suffered a stroke.

  Any way my advice is to try it this year with the man or men in your life.

Just ask them what would make them feel appreciated as fathers and do that if it is at all possible.

It might be simple.

It might not cost a lot besides the pride you have to swallow.

You might find you actually enjoy it though.

Mine when asked today thought he might want to go fishing at a local fishing hole. So I’ll probably give him a can of worms for Father’s Day and try to tone down my own enthusiasm so I don’t out do him.

Mothering in Retrospect

It’s interesting being the mother of older children. My roll has changed from one who made things ok, made things happen, knew (supposedly) all the answers, and gave up my nights, my comfort ( wet sandy snuggles at the beach for instance and bouquets of flowers I was allergic to), my preferences, my beauty( you find you just don’t have time to spend hours on hair,skin,clothes and on the kids,house,hubby), the spotlight ( they always say hello to the baby not to you). To the one who knows but often struggles not to answer, the one who now enters and exits independently with no fanfare and no entourage of little ones trailing before and aft, and one who now defines comfort and beauty in different terms depending on the situation. I still give up for my offspring and hubby but not my nights as often although I am apt to sit up nights listening and praying and even sometimes watching a video or playing a game, nursing sickly kittens, hermit crabs and fish instead of my babies.

Today I spent the day listneing to my son read aloud C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity and stopping him to say now think about what he just said. What did he just switch to? What was the point? Why does that matter? Did you catch that explanation? Wasn’t that a good one? To which he replied yes ,I like that, What? Why Well How do I know why? But more and more he caught the spirit of the piece and an author and got excited over the ideas put forth and the illustrations. “Jesus had to either be God or a lunatic on the level of a man who thinks he is a poached egg. He was forgiving sins that were strange to forgive after all his foot was not the one trod upon unless of course he was God and then is all makes a different sort of sense and take the piano for instance it doesen’t have good keys and bad keys does it? Unless it is out of tune. They are all good. It is how they are used that makes the difference.” It’s fun to see that spark and be able to toss ideas around the room between the three almost grown offspring and myself.

Yes I miss the snuggly times, the automatic smiles and the simplicity of being able to stop the wail with a rocking session or a little snack. But you have to let go of what you have so that God can fill your hand with something else. And there are those grandchildren too. I do get some of those other motherly perks from that roll or will when I have a chance. I do have to store them up since I don’t have the chance for hugs,and cuddles, day in and day out.

So life changes and in some ways it stays the same.

I find myself wondering how to get the point across without saying the point is….. or the reason is….. I find myself still struggling with patience. I have a bit of the “I know God is trying to teach me patience and I wish He would hurry up.” like my friend K said so many years back now when she was telling me she would be bedridden for the rest of her pregnancy.

I laughed heartily recently at a saying, “I never said that when I grew up I wanted to be wrinkled.” But it does happen and if I’m not looking carefully in the mirror for my friend who sells Mary Kay. I don’t really mind so awfully much.

Well gotta go now. Time to feed my daughter’s hermit crab I’m babysitting!

Silent apologies to Plants

  I find myself feeling sorry for the plants as we till our garden spot. I apologize inwardly ( I’m sorry to nip you in the bud this way) to the about to bloom forget me nots and the rambling shoots of the raspberry bushes ( sorry but this is really not good for you to wander over here and over there )and the wild rasperries ( I don’t love you anymore. Sorry but the bigger berries have my heart now) I can’t bear to butt out ( I sent my son to exterminate them). I don’t feel bad for the grass but I do wonder about some of the shoots I have not identified( you just  might be something really nice).

  Silly of me. Isn’t it?

  with acres of wildness around me and lots of the wildplants climbing merrily into my  beds of flowers with permission I really need to control this one plot carefully or I can’t produce food for our table and for sharing. So I remind myself of that and silently take my turn picking up sticks,removing all evidence of last years garden  helping to eliminate the riot of springtime that has erupted in the beds. When is all done I am thankful for the smooth brown dirt ready to tuck seeds and plants into but the memory still lingers of the plants that were there.

  My hubby laughs at me and says he can’t relate.

  I remind him of the trees overshadowing the garden making it difficult for the struggling plants to grow because he can’t bear to cut a tree line back away from the boundaries we fenced. He gets quiet then.

  Next step seeds,row,plants,new choices of what to put upon this brown and black palette we have scraped down.

  and fix the fences around the boundary.

  Then maybe we’ll cut a few trees.

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Now that it’s spring I am looking forward to some day like this one when I am able to get out there on the lake and catch a nice mess of fish. Memories of fishing with my Daddy and my hubby and my kids are some of my best, happiest memories!

The Rain Falls on Me and You

  Every once in a while it seems life is like a clock and I suddenly get a glimpse of the inside and the way all the parts connect to each other. I was thinking about whys and hows yesterday as I made my way through the day handing my letter to the gal who’d poured out her story of a rotten marriage which turned sour on her honeymoon . Then went to have my back untwisted and saw the guy to whom she referred. On to the grocery store where my stuff was packed up by a gal missing from church since becoming a teen who has withdrawn to her own world. Makin me think of another gal who appeared Sunday with mother,sister in law and niece in tow. Beaming and showing off a photo of her stepson sporting a longer than waistlong braid. Things are fine she assured me after an absence of several years from my world. Which made me think of my own new granddaughter who like her stepson became a part of my life as an older child. Next I stopped to see if some teens who were sidelined by car trouble were doing ok.I was told they were fine. Help was on the way and yes they did know my two youngest offspring through a friend they had in common and asked ,”Don’t you go to S. Chapel?:”  Most of those people were connected to me through S. Chapel. One time or another I ran into them or they ran into me there or their friend did and I prayed for them as they celebrated joys or weathered difficulties.

  Difficulties and joys.

  Common grounds we have.

  Rain falls on all of us.

  It doesn’t part for me to walk through untouched. It falls on me. It is an evener.

  Life is rather even. Life is different kinds of rough for each of us but it is rough. So that makes us even.  If I try, I can relate to you because I ‘ve had tough things in my life too. I have had things to rejoice over too. I have had questions that I still don’t have the answers to and I have some answers too.

  One of my goals is to rejoice with those who are rejoicing and weep with those who are suffering.  Like my friend who said,”You should have called me. I would have come over and cried with you.” when she heard my tale of woe.  Or the one who said she called just to hear me laugh. “I just needed to hear some laughter you (speaking of the houseful of kids,Loggy and me)  always seem to be laughing at your house.”

  So now I think I’ll put an ice pack on my sore back and think about those others I know who are suffering and alternately those who are rejoicing which my son Prince reminds me of my urging me to take time out from this ramble to laugh at jokes Prince shared with me about our fifty states while munching on Cheerios he shares so generously. 

  Life is like the purring kitten climbing my leg with needlelike claws. A mix of pain and pleasure  for all of us to slurp together.

   

Pain and Poetry on a Drizzly Day

“I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me and what can be the use of him is more than I can see”,Robert Louis Stevenson

  The day began with awareness of the feeling of broken glass embedded in between my shoulder blades. I managed to throw my back out this past week and have not yet convinced my bones to line up correctly and quit torturing me.  I adjusted my position and went back to sleep to awake to the same feeling. The glass shards had moved a bit but the pain was still there. So I moved a bit and went back to fitful sleep. I repeated this a couple of more times and finally gave up. Sat up. looked out the glass door at the rain and began to read “A Child’s Garden of Verses” by Robert Louis Stephenson.  I began with the introduction to the verses, reading about RLS from another’s point of view. Interesting guy. a child prodigy walked,talked, wrote very young. From a prominent family of engineers who designed lighthouses in Scotland.  His mother’s family was also prominent. His grandfather a well respected clergyman who inspired RLS by admiring his writing prowess. But RLS was imprisoned in his bedroom by the illnesses for the winter months much of his childhood after contracting Tuberculosis and adding to it a wide assortment of childhood diseases. He wrote prolifically and died young.

  I thumbed through the poems finding the above lines and several other childhood favorites of mine. The lines back good memories from my own asthmatic childhood when I was pointed to his poetry because I also was sick a lot though not nearly as much as RLS. Some of it did not make sense to me since I was growing up in Michigan in the 20th century and he had grown in Scotland in another century.

  This book is one of a set of volumes which belonged to my Dad, so it stirred memories of Daddy and his delight in books, particularly old books. They were jewels to him which makes them more special to me. I treasured the moment which turned my thoughts to something sweeter. Feeling better I came down to walk the dog in the rain and pick a handful of spring blossoms glad that I was not sentenced to the “land of counterpane” as RLS had penned in rythmic lines across the ages to me.