Promises, promises…. hunting promises

These are pictures from one of Tony’s many hunts. This hunt was from 2005 and is one of his favorites. The harvest of a grand bull elk was not the reason for this hunt being a favorite. I’m proud to say that Tony is an excellent, safe, thankful hunter and has provided meat for our table for many years. This hunt is one of Tony’s favorite because RE and his pack string came with him. Not only did he enjoy having the company of RE, but he felt the presence of Hilary and his brother Marty. He said it was a bitter-sweet hunt. When Hilary died in January of 2005, Marty said, “No more waiting. We can’t trust that tomorrow will come, so I’m going hunting with you in the fall.”  Marty died in June before the August hunt of a sudden heart attack. As Tony moved among the trees, he asked both of them to pray to our Lord Jesus about capturing a big bull. This hunt was truly a memory filled, favorite hunt.

 

“And this is the promise that he made us: eternal life.” I John 2:25

I’ve been thinking about promises lately. In particular, I’ve been reminded about a certain promise I made to a hair dresser in Klamath Falls many years ago. The short of it is I broke that promise. I don’t remember the name of the hair dresser or even the salon he worked at, but I’m thinking about my broken promise. What was the promise? He taught me how to cut Tony’s hair before we moved back to Eagle Valley. For payment of the hair cutting lesson, he wanted to come hunt on our property. I tried to explain that we didn’t have THAT much property, but I promised I’d let him know about hunting. After reading an article in the Baker City Herald titled “Never mind the calendar: June 20 a major holiday”, this broken promise has haunted me. (see article below) Then the above verse from yesterday’s readings has me thinking again as to why I broke this promise.

As I ponder this fault of mine, I wonder if this is the reason I’m astonished how Hannah could keep her promise of leaving Samuel with Eli when he was only three years old. (This story is found in the first chapter of I Samuel) I understand how Eve could get tricked into eating from the tree in the middle of the garden. I marvel how Mary was willing to be ridiculed or even stoned by agreeing to God’s plan for eternal life.

O Lord, I’m again aware of my many faults and this one of promises broken is bothering me. I realize that fear and lack of trusting you causes me many hurts. Thank you, Jesus, that you don’t break your promises or change your mind. Help me stay firm in my commitments to you and to my family and friends.

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I asked Jayson Jacoby, editor of the Baker City Herald, if I could post this article from the Friday, June 22 newspaper and he was kind enough to share it with you. I think you will enjoy his way with words, even if you’re not a hunter.

Christmas?

Overrated if you’re older than 13 or so.

Thanksgiving?

Too much turkey.

Easter? Halloween?

The candy is great, but it is possible to have too many bite-size Tootsie Rolls scattered around the kitchen.

No, for many people around here the greatest holiday, or at least the one that breeds the strongest sense of anticipation, is ignored by most calendars.

 It’s June 20, and it’s the day the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife (ODFW) announces whose stockings are stuffed with controlled hunt tags, and who got lumps of coal with the word “unsuccessful” etched in them.

The traditional way to reveal gifts, a process involving boxes and wrapping paper and strapping tape strong enough to suspend a 747, has in this case, as with so much else these days, been replaced with the less satisfying, but perhaps more dramatic for its immediacy, act of tapping a keyboard or swiping a finger across a glass screen.

What happened Wednesday illustrates how vital the event is for thousands of Oregon hunters.

I’m a hunter but not an especially rabid one. I had put in for two tags — one buck deer, one elk, both in the Lookout Mountain Unit — and I logged into ODFW’s website Wednesday morning to check my results.

Or, rather, I tried to log in.

The site was down.

Based on some Facebook comments I read, it seems that the digital delay was for some hunters akin to walking into the living room on Christmas morning and finding that somebody had stolen the presents and shoved the tree through the front window besides.

Only this was worse. 

The website went back online later in the day, after all the draw results were available.

Not that this mollified many hunters.

Having to wait was annoying, but after the draws were announced the hunters who didn’t get the tags they wanted took to Facebook to vent their spleens.

I understand the frustration (I got both of my tags, after being skunked last year). For many hunters June 20 isn’t merely a single day to look forward to, but the day that decides much of the rest of their year. Drawing a tag could mean weeks of scouting, assembling gear, arranging vacations and much else besides.

Little wonder, then, that June 20 provokes such excitement. It’s the day that bestows gifts that last for months. And the prospect of fresh venison to supplement the turkey.

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