Two Deaths in One Week…and something to learn about getting ready
You never know about death. Sometimes death is drawn out, long and painful to experience, long and painful to watch. On the other hand, sometimes, death comes upon you suddenly, unexpected. And so it was on Thursday.
We buried my brother-in-law, Gary, earlier this week. I gave the funeral sermon. While not an easy thing to do, I considered it an honor to serve as family pastor for my sister and her nuclear family of kids, grandkids, great-grandkids along with their many friends.
Gary’s death was long and drawn out. He first had prostate cancer 27 years ago when he was 58 years old. Then colon cancer, then liver cancer, along with diabetes that led to an amputation of one leg above the knee, and if that was all not bad enough, dementia.
Gary had been a star basketball player in college. Thus, this kind of health decline was especially hard to experience and watch. When I visited him this past June on a day when he struggled both physically and mentally, I leaned over his bed and said, “This sucks, doesn’t it, Gary.” His one-word response, with feeling: ‘YEP!”
There was nothing I could say or do to change the situation, except point my brother-in-law to the Word and Promises that we hold in the Christian faith.
My wife and I flew home a few days after the funeral, still dazed by the whole experience of grief and sadness and love and laughter that happen when a family system gathers together.
We came home to light rain and fog so thick the pilot had to make a do-over landing in Raleigh. With my mind and body restless, I went hunting the day after getting home.
I find the woods comforting as you wait for morning. There is a distinct agenda of sounds that welcome the coming day. People who get up after dawn never hear these sounds.
After watching daylight come and go, at about 8:00 I started to stillhunt. I knew these woods. Now in my fourth year of deer hunting, I know how to still hunt. The emphasis is on still, not hunt. But today, the woods seemed like a strange place I’d never been before. The cover seemed different. My hunting seemed awkward. Last year I made a resolution that no matter how or where I was hunting, hunt well each day.
I did not hunt well this day. I did not see deer. No, they saw me. All I saw was the tails and rumps of a doe group. Around 10:00 I reached the conclusion that while I was glad to be in the woods, I was still kind of dazed mentally and physically by the events of the week.
I sat down against a tree near my exit from the woods. I ate some trail mix, sighed and shook my head at myself. I considered how I might salvage a beautiful morning. I remembered a guy who said, “Nothing but small does in those woods.” That had been my experience.
I thought back to Gary and how death can be so drawn out, not realizing that I was about to experience death suddenly and unexpected.
I looked up and saw a buck, nose down, about 75 yards away moving left to right. I picked up my gun. The buck suddenly swerved 90 degrees and walked quickly towards me in that “I’m on a scent” pace. With one eye in my scope and one eye open outside the scope I watched him come straight to me, almost like your pet Lab, except that your pet Lab knows to stop.
This buck seemed determined to run me over.
75 yards became 30 yards became 20 yards and he still had his head down with the legitimate possibility that he would run over me. With no normal shot visible I began to wonder about jumping out of the way with a loaded gun when he suddenly looked up and slammed on his brakes at 30 feet. His body was slightly turned showing a bit of his left shoulder.
I shot. He ran. I stood. He crashed.
Like I said at the beginning, sometimes death is drawn out and sometimes death comes on you suddenly, unexpected. From start to finish this took about 45 seconds.
I sat back down against the tree even more dazed than I had been before. How did that just happen? I was not “in” the woods, so to speak. I was on the outside edge of the woods where no one would set up. This had nothing to do with my experience and skill. This was luck. Or, in Christian perspective, this was God’s grace.
My buck turned out to be a mature nine point, harvested from three-point range. Caitlin Clark makes longer shots than this one.
Field dressing was a mess due to the nearly straight-on angle but that was a small price to pay for a trophy to me. The drag out was by far the shortest I’d experienced: 250 yards. But let me be clear: dragging a full bodied nine point up a gradual slope made my heart go into overdrive. Not bad overdrive, just pumping hard under the load. I am grateful to still be in good health at 70. I stopped so my heart could slow down. It’s one thing for the buck to experience sudden death. Another thing entirely if it would be me!
Looking back two days later, I am still amazed and ever so grateful for my harvest.
Getting ready. In the past, I have been surprised by deer in similar ways. On those occasions, I froze and was not ready for whatever happened. At least this time I had the sense to get my gun ready for whatever happened next. That’s the only sensible part I played in this harvest.
Getting ready. In closing, as a pastor who has watched many people grow old and die, let me offer two pieces of practical, non-religious advice about looking ahead and getting ready.
One, is your house a house to grow old in? My sister and her husband realized too late that their split-level house with washer/dryer in the basement and bedrooms upstairs was not a good house in which to grow old. When you are young and trying to stay in shape, steps are your friend. When your body grows weak and your knees arthritic, steps are your enemy! This evaluation and decision should be made before you need it.
Second, get rid of your stuff! Put yourself in the place of those who will survive you, either your kids or your executor. Do you want them muttering curses about all the crap you left them to get rid of, sell or move? Plan ahead as your grow older. If you are middle age and have older parents, encourage them to get rid of their stuff. Or it will be YOU muttering curses when your parents die and you are left to stare at all the stuff you have to move, sell or get rid of.
I cooked up that buck’s liver this morning with onions. I read that a younger deer’s liver is much better than that of an older deer. My after-breakfast report: that time-proven advice is most certainly true; breakfast turned into eggs and onions without the liver.
Two deaths in one week… and something to learn about getting ready!
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You never know about death. Sometimes death is drawn out, long and painful to experience, long and painful to watch. On the other hand, sometimes, death comes upon you suddenly, unexpected. And so it was on Thursday.
We buried my brother-in-law, Gary, earlier this week. I gave the funeral sermon. While not an easy thing to do, I considered it an honor to serve as family pastor for my sister and her nuclear family of kids, grandkids, great-grandkids along with their many friends.
Gary’s death was long and drawn out. He first had prostate cancer 27 years ago when he was 58 years old. Then colon cancer, then liver cancer, along with diabetes that led to an amputation of one leg above the knee, and if that was all not bad enough, dementia.
Gary had been a star basketball player in college. Thus, this kind of health decline was especially hard to experience and watch. When I visited him this past June on a day when he struggled both physically and mentally, I leaned over his bed and said, “This sucks, doesn’t it, Gary.” His one-word response, with feeling: ‘YEP!”
There was nothing I could say or do to change the situation, except point my brother-in-law to the Word and Promises that we hold in the Christian faith.
My wife and I flew home a few days after the funeral, still dazed by the whole experience of grief and sadness and love and laughter that happen when a family system gathers together.
We came home to light rain and fog so thick the pilot had to make a do-over landing in Raleigh. With my mind and body restless, I went hunting the day after getting home.
I find the woods comforting as you wait for morning. There is a distinct agenda of sounds that welcome the coming day. People who get up after dawn never hear these sounds.
After watching daylight come and go, at about 8:00 I started to stillhunt. I knew these woods. Now in my fourth year of deer hunting, I know how to still hunt. The emphasis is on still, not hunt. But today, the woods seemed like a strange place I’d never been before. The cover seemed different. My hunting seemed awkward. Last year I made a resolution that no matter how or where I was hunting, hunt well each day.
I did not hunt well this day. I did not see deer. No, they saw me. All I saw was the tails and rumps of a doe group. Around 10:00 I reached the conclusion that while I was glad to be in the woods, I was still kind of dazed mentally and physically by the events of the week.
I sat down against a tree near my exit from the woods. I ate some trail mix, sighed and shook my head at myself. I considered how I might salvage a beautiful morning. I remembered a guy who said, “Nothing but small does in those woods.” That had been my experience.
I thought back to Gary and how death can be so drawn out, not realizing that I was about to experience death suddenly and unexpected.
I looked up and saw a buck, nose down, about 75 yards away moving left to right. I picked up my gun. The buck suddenly swerved 90 degrees and walked quickly towards me in that “I’m on a scent” pace. With one eye in my scope and one eye open outside the scope I watched him come straight to me, almost like your pet Lab, except that your pet Lab knows to stop.
This buck seemed determined to run me over.
75 yards became 30 yards became 20 yards and he still had his head down with the legitimate possibility that he would run over me. With no normal shot visible I began to wonder about jumping out of the way with a loaded gun when he suddenly looked up and slammed on his brakes at 30 feet. His body was slightly turned showing a bit of his left shoulder.
I shot. He ran. I stood. He crashed.
Like I said at the beginning, sometimes death is drawn out and sometimes death comes on you suddenly, unexpected. From start to finish this took about 45 seconds.
I sat back down against the tree even more dazed than I had been before. How did that just happen? I was not “in” the woods, so to speak. I was on the outside edge of the woods where no one would set up. This had nothing to do with my experience and skill. This was luck. Or, in Christian perspective, this was God’s grace.
My buck turned out to be a mature nine point, harvested from three-point range. Caitlin Clark makes longer shots than this one.
Field dressing was a mess due to the nearly straight-on angle but that was a small price to pay for a trophy to me. The drag out was by far the shortest I’d experienced: 250 yards. But let me be clear: dragging a full bodied nine point up a gradual slope made my heart go into overdrive. Not bad overdrive, just pumping hard under the load. I am grateful to still be in good health at 70. I stopped so my heart could slow down. It’s one thing for the buck to experience sudden death. Another thing entirely if it would be me!
Looking back two days later, I am still amazed and ever so grateful for my harvest.
Getting ready. In the past, I have been surprised by deer in similar ways. On those occasions, I froze and was not ready for whatever happened. At least this time I had the sense to get my gun ready for whatever happened next. That’s the only sensible part I played in this harvest.
Getting ready. In closing, as a pastor who has watched many people grow old and die, let me offer two pieces of practical, non-religious advice about looking ahead and getting ready.
One, is your house a house to grow old in? My sister and her husband realized too late that their split-level house with washer/dryer in the basement and bedrooms upstairs was not a good house in which to grow old. When you are young and trying to stay in shape, steps are your friend. When your body grows weak and your knees arthritic, steps are your enemy! This evaluation and decision should be made before you need it.
Second, get rid of your stuff! Put yourself in the place of those who will survive you, either your kids or your executor. Do you want them muttering curses about all the crap you left them to get rid of, sell or move? Plan ahead as your grow older. If you are middle age and have older parents, encourage them to get rid of their stuff. Or it will be YOU muttering curses when your parents die and you are left to stare at all the stuff you have to move, sell or get rid of.
I cooked up that buck’s liver this morning with onions. I read that a younger deer’s liver is much better than that of an older deer. My after-breakfast report: that time-proven advice is most certainly true; breakfast turned into eggs and onions without the liver.
Two deaths in one week… and something to learn about getting ready!
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