Halfway There

I am weary. Dead-dog, bone-weary tired. Putting that thought on paper and articulating it “out loud” seems only to increase my weariness.

I have been so busy lately focusing on the lives of others that it has been conveniently easy to overlook that I have been overlooking myself. But my world of duties has quieted overnight. That months’ long do-to list is done. And now I am left with me.

I have been looking so forward to this day; to the time when I could focus on my creative pursuits and my future. Engines revved and ready to go. What I didn’t plan on was the silence, the emptiness, the stillness. I stand at the door and look around and see a vast vastness.

Is the direction I’m heading the correct course? I think so but I keep travelling it and seem to be getting nowhere fast. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know which way to turn. But I know I can’t stop. This is exhausting. And I don’t have the energy to do whatever it is I am supposed to do. I need some help here.

One of my favorite movies is Where the Red Fern Grows from 1974. In it a young boy Billy saves up his money for two years and buys 2 coon-hounds. He loves these hounds. And these hounds love him and each other. He trains them from pups to track and “tree” raccoons.

One night Billy goes out hunting with his dogs – Old Dan and Little Ann. The dogs pick up the scent of a ‘coon and track it all throughout the woods until they “tree” it in the tallest sycamore tree in the woods. The only way for Billy to get the ‘coon is to chop the giant tree down.

It takes young Billy two days to chop down the tree with his ax. His family comes looking for him in the woods thinking something has happened to him. The family tries to get him to give-up, to find a smaller tree to cut down. He says “no.” His father offers to help him chop but he says “no.” He made a promise to his dogs that if they tree’d a ‘coon he would chop the tree down and that is exactly what he is going to do even if it takes him a year.

Billy is exhausted. Two days of chopping have him worn-out and bone-dead tired. The tree has a big chunk missing and it will eventually die and fall from the wound but it is clear that the tree is far from falling anytime soon. The ‘coon is safe.

Then Billy has a chat with God. He recalls something his Grandpa told him when he was working hard to save his money for two years to buy the dogs. That if Billy did what he could do, God would meet him halfway and do the rest.

Billy tells God that he has done his best. He has chopped as much as he can. He has kept his promise to his dogs. He has met God halfway. But he needs God’s help to bring the tree down; he cannot do it on his own. Billy needs God to meet him halfway.

Then suddenly a big wind stirs up. The tall sycamore starts waving in the wind and finally falls down, killing the ‘coon. The first thing Billy did when he got home with his prize and was asked how he did it was tell his Grandpa that he met God halfway.

Am I there? Have I tree’d my ‘coon? Have I chopped my tree halfway? I don’t know. I surely feel as though I have. I’m tired enough to have chopped a forest of trees. But as I stand here waiting to find out I will continue to chop. Like Billy, I will keep chopping even if it takes me a year. Through the weariness, through the tiredness and vast stillness I will chop.

Because one day God will meet me halfway and His wind will blow for me.

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