Shooting Starts

"I've got a plan," I thought. I think the year was 1991. I didn't know how life would unfold before me, but my job permitted me only two weeks of vacation that summer after graduating from high school. I spent my first allotted week with friends from my church youth group travelling to the Appalachian mountains for a mission trip. I learned that week that the God I served could surprise me with down home cooking when I was dreading a week of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. By the end of that week, I learned through experience that He could take my hand that wanted a thought-out plan to the plow and see His hand do wonders.  

I had one more week allowed for vacation and little money to spend, but I was sure I was entitled to another whole fry-timer free week.

So, I went camping-just me and my dog. My mom, siblings and soon-to-be stepfather helped me set up the tent and make dinner the first night before they started the hour-long drive back home. I'm sure we had hot-dogs. After they left, my dog and I took in the smells of my new-found freedom.

I set up camp on a weekday so there weren't many people there. I got to know my neighbors that first night, a homeless couple who lived in their RV. They told me they had to break camp every three weeks as that was the longest the campgrounds would let them stay. They celebrated their daughter's sixteenth birthday the week I was there.

I had great plans for the week. The dog and I would get up each morning, I'd enjoy a leisurely breakfast made on the camp-stove. I'd pack a little meal, take the dog with me to the lake each day; I wasn't sure how much of the lake he would enjoy. Maybe we'd dip our toes in the water and relax on the beach, return to the site each evening to make a fire and enjoy dinner. Then zip up the tent, go to bed and repeat the next day. No lunch crowds demanding their sandwiches. No mean bosses making my schedule. No wondering if I could make it through college.

I realized I'd have to revise my plans once I made the first day trip. A sign shot up like a giant hand screaming "Stop" as I approached the sand. It read something like No Dogs Past This Point. What had I done? I committed a whole week to this place, and we'd have to endure the monotony of the fields and forests. I remember I sat down at a picnic table over-looking the beach to re-think my plan. We relaxed. I might have pulled out a book to read. My dog found some bread that someone left for the birds, and, for some strange reason I thought it was like manna.

We hiked back to the campsite. I set about building my fire and made dinner. Then I leaned back into my chair to watch the scenery. The sun slowly set like a perfect red ball. I was so engrossed in the view I just had to capture the image. Without a camera, I pulled out a pen and notepad. Before long, this scene I began to write about became the beginning of a book.

I set down my instruments as I lost the light of the sun to write by and I watched the sky some more. I remembered a time of loss several years earlier when I prayed to God asking Him to let me know everything would be ok. The words had no sooner escaped my thoughts when a star shot across the sky. Five years later at that campsite, I prayed "God, wouldn't it be nice if you..." and another sparkling star travelled across this sky. It was faint, but I could see it. The week wouldn't be what I had planned, but I knew now it would be good.

Most of my plans remained the same that week. Wake up. Make and eat breakfast. I swapped my plans to the beach for a hike each day to my picnic table overlooking the lake to work on my book. We'd hike back each evening, make dinner on the campfire and go to bed when the sun was down.

I learned that week that I had a skill beyond salting the perfect french-fry. As I began to believe I could cut it in college, my course and activity selections evolved around developing my writing skill. I did get myself a few by-lines in some small papers. Each assignment gave me the courage to meet new people that wouldn't normally cross my path or learn more about the endless corners of this world. That all ended when I got a real job.

The year is now 2022. I pay bills. I don't make french-fries. I really like my job. I finished college and even went to graduate school to prepare me for its requirements. I'm still trying to finish that book. I had a good streak knocking out nearly 20,000 words. Then health challenges and job changes presented themselves. I've thought about dabbling with a blog where I can sort out some of my thoughts and put them in writing, a rough draft of sorts. I finally committed to the expense for my website tonight. Then I did the dishes and let the dogs (different dogs) outside one more time for the night.

I stepped outside with them as recent coyote incidents in the area have made me nervous to leave my companions alone outside, even for a few minutes. I pulled my sweater around me and breathed in the chill November air. I looked out through my neighbor's backyard and saw a dazzling diamond fall from the top of the sky behind my cedar trees.

I didn't even have to ask. I never did. God was letting me know yet again that things would be ok and I realized He'd given me a stamp of approval of sorts as I had made a solid step to start writing again. I'll choose to dedicate time to it and trust my Father in Heaven, who has always been there, to carve out the time and energy for me to get busy writing again. Thirty years is long enough for a dream.