A good friend snapped a photo of me in 2015 – walking out on the last day of duck season. It was nothing incredible; no brilliant sunset, no limits harvested, no special setting, and the photo was just on a cell phone. I remember the day well though. We started our hunt with high hopes from a pit that had produced well over the past weeks. The morning dawned, the skies a bit overcast, but the birds just didn’t work. We’ve all been there. The sting is slightly compounded on the last day though. Throughout the morning we would watch birds continually work the upper end of a field in shallow pools, which they had done over the years in late season. As other times, we decided to take a gamble and switch to that location. There was no blind, no cover, and the distance from the tree line we were tucked into was pushing the limit of comfort on shooting range.
The day just didn’t shape up as we thought it might. The shift in location was not productive, and it felt like season was just slipping away into the doldrums of the days ahead. You could almost feel it. You know the closing labor that lies just around the corner of that day; picking up decoys, vacating blinds, putting everything away, and remedying the pains of unforeseen things in season. The challenge is also that winter has not yet left. Many times it drags on for another month to 7 weeks; cold, wet, rather boring – especially if you’ve not traveled off to chase snow geese. That day would be compounded though. I remember standing in the trees feeling a bit lackluster of how the ducks hadn’t cooperated. The temps were a bit balmy. It just felt out of sorts. About the time we got settled in the trees I got a call from my mom telling me my grandfather had passed away from medical complications. The feeling was a bit helpless and almost surreal. I would process it the remainder of the hunt, the walk out, and all of the ride home. It was a strange ending.
While that was almost 5 years ago, it’s been a nice reflection to look back and see that the days marched onward. The seasons came and those seasons have gone – just according to the Lord’s will. There have been great hunts, plenty of sunshine, new additions to the family, and joy in the Lord. Equally, there has been searing loss, painful transitions, but a peace that can only come from God. I can’t say it’s been the only challenging moment or dismal hour in the past, nor will it be the last. Perhaps we would all say that this entire year has felt that way. From the political scene, to the civil unrest in these United States – it sure feels balmy, almost like things aren’t working right.
King Solomon wrote in his wisdom about, both, the sovereignty of God and also the futility of man; outside of understanding that sovereignty. In Ecclesiastes we find the seasons established, and times from Chapter 3 – as the mystery of time. But just below – we find complete assurance of God’s sovereignty even when things just don’t seem to be working correctly. Solomon writes, “Whatever is, has already been, and whatever will be, already is.” (Ecc. 3:15a, CSB) While proverbial and poetic – it is a foundational truth that God has sovereignly directed whatever is; whether it be the seasons of planting and growing, harvesting and storing, birthing and dying, or challenging days. Certainly, these times create a great
feeling of uncertainty – but how grateful we are that God has put “whatever is” to come - that it would already come to pass.
See you in the blind.
Jonathan Brazell