What Would I Give...

I made it through Thanksgiving without crying! Our 4th without Timothy and our 3rd without Herb. I was so amazed that I hadn't had any sort of meltdown. Then a few days later, a friend asked, “How was your Thanksgiving?”

   I didn’t have an answer. It didn’t even register as a holiday. There was nothing to report, good or bad. I realized my goal had been to survive, and I did. I was sort of puzzled about how the day came and went without any expectations on my part; then I saw a picture on Facebook of a hunter in camo, holding the head of his trophy buck. And I remembered…

   We were a hunting family. Hubby and the boys prepped for hunting all year long, hanging deer stands, checking trail cameras, etc; and Thanksgiving week was always a fun flurry of activity with hunters stuffing snacks in their pockets; leaving early and coming back in for a nap before the afternoon hunt; processing a deer on the bar in the kitchen (even on Thanksgiving Day!) with all hands on deck getting it in the freezer... Everyone knew their job. It was a lifestyle.

   Now that Herb and Timothy are both gone, and all the hunters have moved out, there is nothing. No coffee pot in the wee hours of the morning, bubbling out a reveille to the kids. No excitement in the air; No one saying, "Mom, pray that I get a big one!" No group of young and old heading out to the deerwoods in camouflage, all week long, discussing which way the wind was blowing and who would sit in which deer stand. No one tasting the apple pie or turkey as it’s coming out of the oven. Nothing.

   As I began to list the losses, I realized why Thanksgiving seemed like just another day. It was missing context! I was bawling my eyes out as I remembered this whole hunting life! So much for not crying through Thanksgiving! I had noticed that I was completely miserable, but wasn’t sure why. At least now I knew where it was coming from. I read somewhere that a problem named is a problem half-solved.

   And I have learned grief doesn’t just go away by itself – It takes time and effort to recognize the pain, release it to God, receive His peace, and listen for His truth. (“Processing”).

   As God would have it, I stumbled across a talk on You-tube by Elizabeth Elliott, whose husband Jim was speared to death on the mission field at age 28. Elizabeth wrote a book about his life, and his story was even featured in Life Magazine. Elizabeth said she had received many letters over the years from people who had been changed or led to Christ because of her husband’s testimony. She said she doubted if anyone would have even heard of him if he hadn’t been killed in the jungle. She seemed content, many years later, to know Jim’s life and death had been used in so many ways for the Kingdom of God.

   After listening to her talk, the sobering question came to my mind, “Would I let my men go a few years early, if it meant just one soul would be spared from a Christless eternity?”

   That's a tough question. But at the end of the day, Yes. I would. Because I know my men are believers, and right now, they are where I want all of my family to eventually be. They are safe.

   I, too, have heard stories of how people have been changed, even brought to Christ, through Timothy’s life and death. Can I be content with that?

   With God’s help, yes. I can. I don’t pretend my heart doesn’t ache, because it does (and tears are flowing even as I write this); but when I ask God for His perspective on every sad thought, it changes my focus. I can release my sadness to God, moment by moment, and choose to live in my new reality with a grateful heart - a smile and a tear - because God is still good, even when I don’t know what He is doing.

"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Job 1:21