The Blessed No – November 2020
Two weekends ago, my husband, Andrei set off on an adventure to search for bear scat. After twenty-two years of being married, I am still shocked by his unending quest for new adventures. We were first married at the justice of the peace six weeks before our church wedding, now giving us the opportunity to celebrate our relationship on two distinctly different days. Over the years, we’ve capitalized on this for one reason or another.
This year, October saw Andrei dashing off to northern NY state to catch enough salmon to stock our two freezers - graciously leaving me behind with the dog and three kids.
Six weeks later, he prepared for bear hunting season and went in search of bear scat. This time, though, the search included his faithful sidekick, Nellie - our beloved hunting dog.
By late afternoon on our church-wedding anniversary, just as the long shadows of evening appeared - so did the bear-scat hunter asking if I had just enough energy to head back to the town where I grew up to have dinner together... I had spent the day ferociously tearing down garden structures, spreading compost on the garden beds just in time for the garlic bulbs to go in, and raking up inordinate mountains of leaves.
The sun began to set, mirroring my weary body… and Andrei said, “Let’s go. It will be good.”
And it was. We were no more dressed up than each of us wearing jeans and heavy sweaters. We spent less than $50 and drank tap water. We wore masks into the restaurant and back out again. All in all, it lasted no more than a few hours. It was carved out, intentional, and familiar… It was us. It was good. It fit the season.
This morning, however, I awoke to the baby (Nellie) alternately sobbing and running around the house - jumping on top of me, crying under the covers, and pawing at me to get up. All while the moon hung high and long before the sun awoke.
And I remembered…
Today was NOT the day for hunting bear scat. Papa had left the hunting pup behind in search of the real deal. The real bear. It’s a yearly endeavor which has yet to yield anything more than a pheasant - and only because it was stuck in a bush that year when he left for almost a week in search of the giant and elusive mammal.
No, today the highly trained hunting dog needed to stay home. She had finished her part in the hunt and it was time for only Papa and his friend to continue on. They had fully intended to pack up the SUV the night before so as to avoid seeing the sobbing hunter being left behind… but the friend received news that two close friends from his home country - brothers, in fact - had suddenly passed away from the current virus.
And so the season of sadness and mourning began… overshadowing the hunt.
And so I’ve brought the hunter dog to the forest to run. Along the way, we waded through the deep mud ruts - etched out by the tires of the great combines signaling an end to the soybean season.
I am struck by the beauty of the sunrise, the lifting fog, and the brilliance of autumn leaves. The sound of traffic hums quietly in the background. The hunter sees a squirrel and momentarily forgets she was left behind only hours ago.
I’m on the edge of the tree line now, tapping out my journal with one hand and pruning back a few prickly briars with another. I can see a patch of beautiful harvest-colored berries deeply hidden in the brush. I wonder if it’s worth getting scratched apart for the sake of the prize. They’re full and bright - unlike the ones along the path. It’s probably because of being better sheltered and protected from the harsher elements of frost and damaging wind.
Ahhhh sheltered and protected… isn’t that exactly what the hunter dog’s Papa said to her this morning, “Stay with mama. It’s not safe for you to come today. Dogs can’t come on this part of the hunt.” And no amount of begging, sobbing, wailing, or pleading eyes could make that loving Papa give in to his beloved pup.
Because sometimes the GENEROSITY OF GRACE is found deeply hidden in the sheltered and protective answer of “NO.”
For your good - NO…
Even though you can’t understand - NO...
But isn’t every perfect promise yes and amen?…
Even there we find the “NO” hidden deeply like the harvest berries - sheltered and protected.
Sometimes the perfect promise of yes has to weave its way submissively through no that it might find itself standing in the Light at the end of the tunnel.
Standing with the Light at the end of the tunnel.
Standing while hearing,
“It is good.”
And it is true, sometimes life and certain seasons feel as though we’re only allowed to hunt for scat. That’s it. And the thrill of the actual hunt won’t be ours.
But maybe that’s the “NO” protecting us. Sheltering us.
God said of King David that he was a man after His own heart. A man of war. A conqueror. And when this wild and warrior man wanted to build a temple in honor of His God ---
God said, “No.”
1 Chronicles 22 tells the story of how David did practically everything within his power to prepare for the building of the temple. He made rules, chose leaders, supplied materials… His son, Solomon, was still young and not yet ready for the task. Verse 5 reads, “So David got many of the materials ready before he died.”
David calls his son Solomon and lays before him the task of honoring God and building the temple. “My son, I wanted to build a temple for worshipping the Lord, my God. But the Lord spoke… you cannot build a temple for worship to me. BUT you have a son, a man of peace and rest. He will build a temple for worship to me. He will be my son, and I will be his father…”
Verse 11-13 “David said, ‘Now, my son, may the Lord be with you. May you build a temple for the Lord your God, as he said you would. He will make you the king of Israel. May the Lord give you wisdom and understanding so you will be able to obey the teachings of the Lord your God. Be careful to obey the rules and laws the Lord gave Moses for Israel. If you obey them, you will have success. Be strong and brave. Don’t be afraid or discouraged’.”
Because ---
Warriors can’t build temples.
Dogs can’t hunt bears.
And sometimes the generosity of grace is found hidden in the sheltered, protective answer of no...
