As I walked out the back door of my mom’s house, I could see my dad’s monument in the back field.  It’s been a cold rainy dreary Thanksgiving Day.   Sometimes it’s hard to see life on a day like today.  I cross the pond dam and fog drifts across the water in search of a limb to rest its heaviness on.  As I climb my bow stand, the long drive to get here is brought to mind as I pull my body up the tree.  As I settle in for my evening hunt, I can smell the smoke from our wood stove.  The rain continues to come down and I question why I would give up a warm house for this perch.  

Though the house is not crowded with just my mom and our boys, the woods call me to nestle amongst the trees.  Here I can see the bright green of the cedar tree and watch the water drip from its branches.  The owl down by the creek just told me the real darkness of this day is soon upon us.

Holidays are without a doubt hard with the missing voices, empty seats, and wrinkled memories of time gone by.  I sat earlier this week with a man who, for the most part, was a stranger to me.  He was 83.   We talked about life, faith in life, and time gone by.  Later in the evening he sat alone on the sofa and looked over at me and said, “I’m blessed”.   

When I passed my dad’s monument, it would be easy for me to sink into that hole that seems to feel like the muddy field I just walked through, but I didn’t.  Instead, I picked up a few persimmons laying on the pond dam and said, “I am blessed.”    As I typed these words to you from my perch those persimmons have provided my body with nourishment. Every day the man on the sofa uses his memories to provide his soul with nourishment, so that no matter how dreary the day is, he feels he is blessed.  I think the holidays are hard because we focus on what is not there, when we should focus on what is there.  

Happy Thanksgiving from the Roadmap Company.

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