The look started at the same time that I started packing
up the van in anticipation of four days of bowhunting whitetail deer during the
beginning of the rut – arguably the best time of the long archery season to
connect with a mature buck. I had
invested two of my precious vacation days so that I could enjoy a long weekend of
“prime time” in the woods. “You’re not
really planning on being up north all four days?” And so came the question that accompanied the
aforementioned “not thrilled” look on her face.
Then she launched into a list of shall we say contrary
realities, such as: I was leaving her alone AGAIN with the four kids, the
reality that I had spent every weekend bowhunting since the opener in
mid-September, the growing, without any intervention of my part, list of chores
that needed to be tackled before winter.
There was more, but that is enough to set the stage.
I was mad, but deep down I knew it was not righteous
anger. It was more like the little boy
who got scolded and was pouting, especially because he had been caught
red-handed. I stormed out the door with a
huff and another armful of hunting gear.
I hesitated to return to the fray.
Then my eyes fell on the bags form the garden store in the corner of the
garage. I knew they were full of tulip
and daffodil bulbs that I was supposed to plant along the south side of the
house before the first snow. I admitted interiorly
that it was already the first week of November and the regular daily
temperature was already in the mid to low 30’s.
Snow could come anytime now. I
grabbed my shovel and set to work.
My wife came up beside me as I was patting down the
last of the bulbs. All she said was
“thank you”. Ouch, a direct hit right to
my guilt. I hung up the shovel and
jumped on my lawn tractor. I had wanted
to mow the lawn one more time. I
finished that and came in for lunch. It
was quiet until Michelle offered one last element of her peace plan. “If you really loved me, you’d clean the
bathrooms.” Hmmm. It occurred to me that I had never cleaned a
bathroom in the 18 years we had been married, or any time in my life for that
matter. I was the ‘outside chore’
specialist.
I didn’t answer her.
But I did get up from the table and head down to the laundry room, fetch
the cleaning supplies and set to work. I
was on my knees, scrubbing the final toilet of our three-bath house when I felt
her gaze on the back of my neck. “I
don’t think I ever loved you more”, she said.
Finish this up and you better get going if you’re going to get to your
deer stand before dark. I increased the
urgency of my brushstrokes.
I had one last temptation to anger. As I was backing out of the driveway I was
thinking that it was a densely overcast day, so dark would come early. A half mile from home and I had to hit the
breaks as a nice eight-point buck crossed the road. Part of me wanted to grumble that I was
missing good hunting light, but another part, a deeper down part just brought a
smile as I watched the buck disappear into the woodlot and instead of
frustration I chalked it up to being “a good sign” for the coming hunt.
And it was a good sign. I didn’t connect with a buck that evening,
but I did the next night. And to this
day it is still the biggest buck that I have taken with a bow. Although it was well past dark when I finally
had the deer field dressed and dragged and in the back of the van, I felt a sense
of urgency to head home. So, I packed up
the rest of my gear and headed south.
There was still most of the weekend left to enjoy with my family.
Although it took me 18 years to get there, daylight
does eventually come even to the thickest of swamps. My
wife, and even the kids as they got older took some turns here and there,
cleaning the bathrooms, but it continues to be a regular part of my chore
list. I have to say that I don’t mind it
at all. It keeps me in good graces with
my wife, and myself.
His Peace,
Deacon Dan
Photo by Karolina Grabowska: https://www.pexels.com/photo/crop-person-cleaning-toilet-rim-with-sponge-4239072/
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