| Outdoor Truths: Aiming Outdoorsmen Toward Christ Dec. 9th |
Gary Miller ~ outdoortruths.org
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A smile crossed my face the other day when I looked up into the top of a tall tree. There it was – a bouquet of mistletoe. At an instant I flashed back to my teenage years when I made it my purpose to shoot enough stems from a tree in order to present some to my mother for a decoration. I, like many others, had heard Christmas songs that mentioned mistletoe, but it wasn’t until my early years mingling through the woods that I realized what it was and where it came from.
I can also remember being impressed by how hard it was to come by. Gathering it was not as simple as I had originally thought. It was not something that anybody could harvest. It would take finding it in a tree that was not too tall to reach with the blast of my sixteen gauge shotgun and then knocking enough out of that tree without it looking like…. well, like it had just been pulverized with a shotgun.
I can remember one particular time how proud I was to add it to our Christmas decorations. I felt no different than if I had killed and brought home a turkey for our holiday meal. It still surprises me that even though I was always admonished to be careful; I was never hindered from taking my shotgun and going to the woods even as a youth. My, how times have changed.
I’m so glad that my parents allowed me to pursue my outdoor passion. I’m thankful they allowed me to stretch my imagination in order to understand that the greatest things in life are not always within a comfortable reach. I’m glad they tempered their desire for my safety with their desire for me to climb a little higher.
You see, why I smiled at the recent sight of mistletoe was not because I remembered blasting it out of a tree, but it was because I remembered my mother taking my gift and making it a part of her yearly decoration. It was that pride, both hers and mine, that brought back those fond memories. It was being able to tell my story to all of those who came to my house that year and who took notice of, or shared a kiss under, those small branches that fell to the ground during one special Christmas season.
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