My heart was pounding. Picking up each foot took effort and determination, as if there were twenty-pound gnomes clinging gleefully to each ankle. I could see the end of the 5K race; I was almost there. Just a little more. Hoofta. Just a little more. When I finally crossed the line, I heaved and rested with my hands on my knees for a while, sucking in huge quantities of air. There was a celebration! We ate watermelon on Mainstreet and congratulated old friends on finishing the annual Summer Festival race. Then we gathered our things and walked the three miles back to the car.
Finish lines are funny things. They aren't really the end. They are a milestones, but you still have to keep walking. You still have to run another race tomorrow morning. And I like it that way. Most good stories have closure, but a healthy life does not. I discovered this when I came here this semester. I, like most senior graduates, had been eulogized, given money in the mail for months, and treated like the cat's meow during high school graduation. My senior class and I thought we were pretty darn cool, and it was a good finish line. Our story was done, and what a great story it had been.
But then we went to college. It was strange to realize that I was a college student. I guess I supposed I would never get this old, I would just somehow magically end as soon as I was done with high school. I realized (as I saw others among our freshman class realize) that I wasn't dead yet, and I had "miles to go, before I sleep." The finish line was a good place to stop and rest and regain my perspective, but it wasn't the end, thank Heaven.
We now approach the end of a truly remarkable first semester. I wouldn't trade it for anything. But I also know that as Einstein said, "Life is like riding a bicycle: you have to keep moving if you want to keep your balance." I am ready for the new race to start. I can't wait to see what mountains we all climb in the days and years ahead.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Meaty Thoughts
On Thanksgiving day, I went hunting with my father, uncle, sister, and cousin in Montana. We woke up early and traveled out to a private ranch chock full of deer.
Deer are stupid animals. Some will be stand there and let you shoot at them for long periods of time before they finally run away. They run into cars, they eat people's gardens, and eat the bark off of your trees. Hunting is population control, and it not only helps citizens, but benefits the deer community at large by reducing pandemic ups and downs.
With two bucks in the back of the truck, it was my turn to shoot whatever presented itself. I had a doe tag, and when we found a whitetail doe about 200 yards away, I took the shot. I pulled the trigger; the deer jumped and ran about five steps, staggered, and fell over dead. It was a good clean shot thru the heart. The deer didn't suffer a long, painful ordeal.
That week my dad showed me how to make teriyaki jerky out of the meat. I was proud of my deer jerky, (it tasted pretty darn good!) and brought some back to Provo with me. My friends had diverse reactions. One (guy) friend tasted and enjoyed, and kept on eating. A girl I am friends with came to the party and tasted it graciously, then declined based on the flavor. The guy ate her piece, I think. A third friend, a beautiful girl who I have a lot of respect for, wouldn't touch it. "You killed a deer!" She gasped. I suddenly felt like I was eating a baby. She didn't condemn me, but she was clearly not supportive of killing Bambi.
Now I'm pondering. I don't particularly like killing ungulates. Fish are fine, I have no qualms, but it is a little sad to see a four legged creature die at your hands. But a part of me suggests that it is important to kill an animal and eat it's meat every once in a while. Why? Because I am eating the meat of animals that someone had to kill almost daily. Who killed the chicken cordon bleu you ate at the Cannon last night? What about that burger? Did it grow on a tree? We know that the Lord gave us these animals in part for our nourishment. The scriptures do say to have moderation in meat, but they also denounce vegetarianism. If animals are going to die for your sake, isn't it important to literally take part in that process occassionally, as a reminder of what the animals go thru for you? On a deeper note, this parallels the sacrament. Just as animal sacrifices reminded ancient Israel of the sacrifice Christ would go thru to bring them life, so the sacrament is a way for us to symbolically partake of the flesh and blood of Him who gave his life that we might have eternal life. Reverently participating is a very important reminder.
I hope this doesn't sound sacrilegous. I may just be defense, but I think hunting is a good thing to do every now and then. Not only does it make you self-reliant (you would be able to provide meat for your family should a catastrophe occur) but it also keeps you in remembrance of the animals that die regularly so that you can live.
Deer are stupid animals. Some will be stand there and let you shoot at them for long periods of time before they finally run away. They run into cars, they eat people's gardens, and eat the bark off of your trees. Hunting is population control, and it not only helps citizens, but benefits the deer community at large by reducing pandemic ups and downs.
With two bucks in the back of the truck, it was my turn to shoot whatever presented itself. I had a doe tag, and when we found a whitetail doe about 200 yards away, I took the shot. I pulled the trigger; the deer jumped and ran about five steps, staggered, and fell over dead. It was a good clean shot thru the heart. The deer didn't suffer a long, painful ordeal.
That week my dad showed me how to make teriyaki jerky out of the meat. I was proud of my deer jerky, (it tasted pretty darn good!) and brought some back to Provo with me. My friends had diverse reactions. One (guy) friend tasted and enjoyed, and kept on eating. A girl I am friends with came to the party and tasted it graciously, then declined based on the flavor. The guy ate her piece, I think. A third friend, a beautiful girl who I have a lot of respect for, wouldn't touch it. "You killed a deer!" She gasped. I suddenly felt like I was eating a baby. She didn't condemn me, but she was clearly not supportive of killing Bambi.
Now I'm pondering. I don't particularly like killing ungulates. Fish are fine, I have no qualms, but it is a little sad to see a four legged creature die at your hands. But a part of me suggests that it is important to kill an animal and eat it's meat every once in a while. Why? Because I am eating the meat of animals that someone had to kill almost daily. Who killed the chicken cordon bleu you ate at the Cannon last night? What about that burger? Did it grow on a tree? We know that the Lord gave us these animals in part for our nourishment. The scriptures do say to have moderation in meat, but they also denounce vegetarianism. If animals are going to die for your sake, isn't it important to literally take part in that process occassionally, as a reminder of what the animals go thru for you? On a deeper note, this parallels the sacrament. Just as animal sacrifices reminded ancient Israel of the sacrifice Christ would go thru to bring them life, so the sacrament is a way for us to symbolically partake of the flesh and blood of Him who gave his life that we might have eternal life. Reverently participating is a very important reminder.
I hope this doesn't sound sacrilegous. I may just be defense, but I think hunting is a good thing to do every now and then. Not only does it make you self-reliant (you would be able to provide meat for your family should a catastrophe occur) but it also keeps you in remembrance of the animals that die regularly so that you can live.
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