Well, guys, the night before last I was feeling pretty anxious about the state of the world. I'm not usually a big worrier; I generally try to focus on the stuff I can do and refuse to think much about the rest. But I have to admit recent events have been getting me down. So, I was up a lot during the night. I spent a lot of time praying, singing, trying to get my head on straight.
Yesterday was a busy day. Did a lot of school work in the morning. I'm a teacher, and yeah, we're all having to re-learn how to reach kids in this new and hopefully temporary reality. After lunch the Badgerling (my 10 year old daughter) and I went for a long walk. We saw new baby lambs, friendly people out cycling, a few drivers that waved and smiled at us. We walked down the road a couple miles to North Fork creek, where we skipped rocks, soaked up sun (it being the absolutely tropical temperature of 51F), and watched a guy not catch fish.
When we got back, the offspring wanted to get out the bows. Now, my daughter has always loved the idea of archery more than the actual work. It isn't something I push on her, and more often then not she opts out when I ask if she wants to join me. Part of this might be her equipment. She has one of those semi-worthless fibergl**s kiddie bows, about 10# draw weight. It's really too small for her, but the next bow up is a 35# recurve, which is a little too heavy for her. This past Sunday I told her that if she shot every day for a week, maybe I'd let her try the recurve again.
Well, we got back from this long, long walk, pretty tuckered out. We decided to rest our feet for a half hour or so, then go out and shoot. So, we snuggled up on the couch, me with the Traditional Bowyers' Bible 1 (it finally came!), she with some fairy story. Then out to the yard. She figured out on Sunday how to string her own bow, so when I walked out the door with Jubal, my hunting bow, she was all ready to go.
We had an empty milk jug handy, so we decided to forego the regular archery range and go out to the back pasture, where we proceeded to whack the living daylights out of that poor jug. Badgerling, having shot an unprecedented two days in a row, was really zipping out the arrows from her toy bow. She was taking shots anywhere from five to 20 yards, much further than she normally tries. There were squeals of delight every time one of her arrows whacked into that jug. (If you've never shot at empty milk jugs, give it a try--the sound they make is most satisfying) There were giggles at every near-miss, and expressions of admiration at my every hit.
It was magical. Our tired feet were forgotten. We had planned on just shooting a quick quiver a piece before making supper. We ended up staying out for almost an hour, and it was me, not her, who finally said, "We've gotta quit and go inside." As we came in, we were talking about upgrade bows, maybe a 20# hickory longbow, maybe a bamboo-backed little recurve, dyed purple of course.
Maybe after I find out if I'm still going to have a job, sweetie.
About the time I had the chicken tacos going on the stove, Mrs. Badger came home, having ventured into town for the first time since the crud hit the fan. Badgerling was excited to show her mom the perforated milk jug. We had a good supper, then a game of Risk. The outcome of that game is still in question--It all depends on whether I can hold on to Asia for one more turn--but I'm feeling pretty good about my family and my community.
I guess there's no huge point to all this. Love your loved ones. Do what you can. Be greateful for whatever you can be grateful for. Make the kids in your life laugh, however and whenever you can. Share experiences. Trust God with the stuff you can't control, which, even in the best of times, is most of the stuff. I really think it's gonna be OK.
Thomas
