Ticked Off

  You may have read in an earlier post, titled DUCK! And Cover, that we are in the midst of the hunting season making ducks fair game.  What you didn't read about is the young man in his mid-teens who eats, sleeps, and breathes hunting...and lives under my roof.  Yes, the clamor of duck calls regularly sounds off in my dining room, accompanied by a variety of camouflage paraphernalia everywhere the eye can rest.  Duck decoys arrive in the mail and are proudly displayed throughout...well, everywhere the eye can rest.  Thankfully those decoys took the loud hint and migrated to the hunter's bedroom.

It's time to go hunting!

  This past Saturday was a decent day for hunting.  I heard floorboards creaking rather early and knew my son was biding his time til he dared disturb his father's slumber.  This period of waiting has become a stressful ritual in our home.  Upon my husband's emergence from the bedroom, he is faced with non-stop references to the current hour and minute followed by intervals of hovering during breakfast.  The subliminal message permeating our mealtime is, "Who has time to eat?!?  There's hunting to be done!"  Thank heavens maturity and consistent working with our son has led to the message being subliminal...time has softened the full-on verbal barrage.

  The time had come and my husband put us all out of our misery by asking our son to load the vehicle, which of course had been done an hour ago.  A kiss from my husband, a forehead presented by my son for me to kiss, and out the door they went.  This was the perfect opportunity for me to grab my eleven year-old boy and head to our favorite trails at the Peninsula.  Yes, the same Peninsula the duck blinds are located on.


  We'd been walking about ten minutes when my younger son pointed to the road which leads back home and announced, "Hey, there goes our van!"  Perhaps the warning bells should have been going off in my head...yet, I've learned I'm never far enough, in cases of emergency, I can't be reached.  So, on we walked...even as the dreaded awaited call came ringing in.  "Yeees?  I said, trying to be as cheery as possible."  I don't wish to bore nor scandalize you with the tirade that exploded into my ear describing how they never even made it into the duck blind.  I won't fill you in on the unflattering and rather disrespectful picture, painted of my husband, with such hostile words.  My teen, who had been chomping at the bit for this highly anticipated moment, was more than frustrated with the hope that had gone dead in the water without firing a single shot.

I admit I did feel bad for the fowl-tempered fella and quickened my pace to get home...though not so much that I would catch the initial fall-out fireworks I imagined were going off.  I even texted a couple nephews looking for a stand-in hunting partner.  I automatically assumed my husband's back was causing him such pain that he bailed and needed to rest.  Therefore, I resigned myself to the rescuer's role and began to mentally prepare to wrap in a blankey and sit in the blind if imploring texts to my nephews didn't pan out.

  With the walk finally over, we headed to the car only to be let down by a deflated rear tire.  Great...what the heck kind of day is this??  I called my husband to ask if I should drive like that.  He said he'd fill the compressor and be right down.  As I write this I'm realizing everything happens for a reason...it's a very good thing he was home or my 11 year-old and I would have had a long, uphill, chilly walk home...after our long, chilly walk we just took.  I was briefly filled-in over the phone how our teen ignored requests to find a trail leading to the blind.  Instead, he stomped right into the tall grasses determined to find a quick route there.  There was something about ticks, which alerted me to my husband's rightful concern... Presque Isle, lovely as it is, is known to have a large deer tick population.  My husband had once been bit by a deer tick, confirmed to have Lyme's disease.  He was never at ease with spending much time at Presque Isle, let alone going off trail and into dense vegetation where they'd most likely be.


Deer ticks can cause Lyme disease

  After his arrival and quick fix of the tire, I offered to drive the van home while he'd take the car to the closest gas station and check the tire's air pressure.  That offer was quickly rescinded upon hearing that three large deer ticks had already been found crawling in the van.  Sure enough, our son had walked right into a hot spot for the buggers before his frustrated Dad demand they were going home due to lack of obedience.

Eeeew!

Once home, I was surprised by the calm I walked into.  I was certain there would  be arguing and pleading for me to fulfill my impatient hunter's plans for the day.  I was impressed to see his quiet resignation as he worked side by side with my husband to rid the van of these tiny, disease carrying, blood suckers.  I was relieved yet horrified that a total of eight ticks were discovered in our family's vehicle.  I listened to my 11 year-old ask, "Dad, what is the purpose of ticks in the world?" and wondered the same thing.  We didn't come up with much of an answer...likening them to mosquitoes and other insects that seem to do more harm than good.

  Perhaps, in that instance the tick's purpose was to provide a teachable moment.  Difficult as it was, there is more patience added to my young hunter's arsenal.  He has learned to pace the floors on Saturday mornings instead of bounding onto our bed...maybe he will listen to the voice that warns him to stay on the path and understand wisdom is born of experience.



Don't Be Stingy!

If we but sit in silence we shall take in and breathe out what we are meant to offer the world.  For the world needs our perspective.  The things taken in have been viewed for millennium...but it is in the filtering that fresh perspectives are breathed out and the ancient becomes new.

  Could it be your civic duty to breathe new life into the mundane that has become antiquated due to lack of curiosity and/or mindfulness?  Unique perspectives could change the world for the better if those called to slow down and notice SHARED insight and therefore offered hope.  Be brave. Find YOUR voice.  Perhaps it resonates a deeper voice that longs to speak Hope, Peace, Courage, and Wisdom to this world.

 Why not you? 

Bags packed and ready to go!!...Are you sure?

  A renowned wise old man needed help delivering an important package to a nearby village. A young man, eager to find favor with one so wise, readily offered his service.  He was so excited to do the bidding of the wise man that he left with an empty backpack before giving the wise man a chance to pack it.

  Realizing his error and fearful of being chastised for his haste, he decided to fill the pack with useful and beautiful items he found along his way.  ""Perhaps he will praise my ingenuity and careful choices," he thought.  First, he picked a bouquet of exquisite, delicate blossoms which bloomed high on a hillside.  He reasoned their difficulty to posses gave them value sure to be appreciated.  Next, he gathered nuts that had fallen from a tree onto a soft, shaded piece of land- certain their innards were fully intact and were therefore fresh and nutritious.  Finally, he was ecstatic to find a perfect golden nugget tucked beneath a rock in the stream.  Quite satisfied with his array of gifts and confident that the wise man would praise his finds, he hurried to the town to bestow his choice bounty upon the needy.
  His arrival was greeted by a bent over, old woman whose gap-toothed smile expressed her excitement and anticipation of the package he was to deliver.  The young man triumphantly held up his backpack with an air of importance and began to withdraw the items one by one.  The woman's smile faded to a look of confusion and mistrust.  "Are you sure this was sent by the wise man from the next town over?" she hesitantly asked.  The young man adamantly pointed to the flowers and described the sheer height he ad been conquered to pick them. He gestured to the fine array of nuts that had been gathered and vowed they were of the finest quality for miles around.  His final attempt to convince this seemingly ungrateful woman was to display the golden nugget in such a way as to let the sun glint off the precious mineral and dazzle the woman into being impressed.  Surely messages of admiration and immense gratitude would filter back to the wise man and thereby reveal his own cleverness.
  By now, the woman's smile had been replaced by an air of disappointment, but she nonetheless motioned for the young man to follow her so that he could deliver the package to the townsman for whom it had been intended.  Slowly following the woman's hobbled gait he finally reached the door of a pitifully small, decrepit dwelling.  His chest puffed with pride as he envisioned the gratitude from these poor people.  He fully intended to let the wise man have all credit believing his own reward would be the sage's praise for representing him with such beauty and riches.  The woman opened the door, revealing a dank and dark single room with a bed in the center.  As the young man's eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed the  form a frail man lying in the bed lifting a withered hand to beckon his visitor closer.  "Sir," the old woman addressed the young man, "please bend to my husband's ear for he is blind and can not see."  Then she spoke loudly to her husband to describe the blossoms his eyes would never see, the nuts that his long ago lost teeth would never crunch as he could only take in liquid these days.  She held the gold that had excited the young man with it's promise of status and wealth against her husband's gnarled fingers while she feebly described it as a yellow rock hoping her husband would find some joy or understanding in these odd gifts selected by the wise man.  The dying old man drew in, what was evidently, one of his last few breaths in order to acknowledge the gifts his wife had valiantly tried to describe with enthusiasm.
   The old woman bid their guest goodbye with a sad smile as her husband labored to breathe behind her.
 
  The young man journeyed home and his thoughts were a jumble of confusion.  Feeling he had failed his mission miserably he sought the wise man upon his return.  "Please," he implored the wise man, "tell me what you would have sent to this man who could neither see nor eat.  What could have made a difference to this couple?  Was the package supposed to be medicine or perhaps money for a new house?  Why were they disappointed with what I provided? Please, I must know."   The wise man slowly reached into his pocket and held out a simple piece of paper upon which these words were written:

  "Peace is coming- don't lose hope.  You shall be in Paradise soon.  You shall have no more tears, no more pain. You are not alone and you are loved very much."

  The young man thought back to his time with the dying man and his crippled wife and was flooded with embarrassment as he realized how utterly useless his choice of gifts had been.  He was saddened to think he had robbed this needy couple of the comfort they surely desired and would have found is those wise words during their most difficult hour.

  At a loss for words of his own, the young man, who had sought to impress the wise man with his own brand of wisdom, realized his folly... he had chosen gifts to be given in another's name based on his own  perspective and priorities. 

Lord, help us to seek You in the beginning of each new day so that we can receive all You have intended for this day's journey (GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD).  May we humbly seek Your wisdom so we may honestly offer Your gifts instead of our beliefs of what is needed. Dear Creator, You made all- You know all!  Help us to trust Your choice of people we encounter, hardships we are to endure, gifts we are to share.  Thank you for allowing us to be your hands and feet.  Give us courage and strength for our daily journey~ to go where You know souls await hope. ~Amen+