Some years ago, on a cold, snowy winters day in Iowa, my son, Stan Hitchcock the 2nd , our friend and guide, Kenny Johnson and myself, were trudging through boot top deep snow in a cut corn field following a well beaten Pheasant trail that looked like a bird freeway.
We had been tracking the Pheasant for what seemed like hours but in reality was about 20 minutes…but, take that times 20 degree temps and snow in your boots and it equals=hours. I was about to freeze to death, and my dad-blamed socks were wet from snow, the wind had picked up and the wind chill factor was about….hmmm, maybe 50 below? Course, that’s just an estimate of what it felt like, but since I never have felt 50 below zero before, I’m just guessing. We had not seen a single bird all day long, and here it was getting close to three o’clock in the afternoon, the snow was blowing right in my face, and dang it, I was tired of following bird tracks and no birds.
We were just below the crest of a gentle rise, coming up on a frozen creek and wooded area, when my son, Stan 2nd, looked over and said, “Dad, I’ll tell you what, Pheasant tracks make a mighty thin soup!” I chuckled, perked up a little, and we kept on a’walkin’ along that trail. Just as we reached the frozen creek and wooded area, Roosters exploded in front of us and it sounded like a war zone….the excitement was intense as we all took our shots, and supper was laying scattered in the snow. Man, what a hunt! The cold was forgotten in the victory of the hunt, and who cares if your feet are froze? Yessir, following that Pheasant trail was sure the thing to do, alright. Ain’t gonna be no, “mighty thin soup, tonight!”
This morning, as I enjoyed my hot cup of coffee with chickory and a little honey, and looked out on a cloudy, windy Tennessee morning, I thought about what my son had said, “Pheasant tracks make a mighty thin soup”, and remembered all the trails I had followed in my early life, going the wrong way many times, ending up in dead ends and heartache some times, and then, a few times, successfully filling the pot at the end of a trail.
From my vantage point at this stage of my life, I can look back and wonder…why in the world did I take that path….it hurt. Why didn’t I go the other way? The Answer: Because we are human, and prone to make mistakes, and lose our way. We need to look back and see how we reacted at the end of those trails….when trails turn to trials, did we give up? Did we go on over the hill and find the reward? That is the important conclusion I have reached. Yes, I lost my way many times, and yes, I took some wrong trails, but I never gave up, I kept on searching, I sought help from my guide, the Lord God Of The Universe, and in the end result, while there were times of “mighty thin soup”, there was also strength to carry on to the wonderful life of joy in His blessed walk. Sometimes, we need to quit worrying about where this trail will lead, and start enjoying the journey as we go.
I wish for you all, a blessed walk on whatever trail you might be following, strength to keep on going and the Lord keep you safe.
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